Samesex/lunge.mm
                                          Working on my Lunge
                  I've decided that there's nothing more stifling than spending vacation
            with your folks -- especially if they think you're straight.  I mean all that
            shit like watching football with Dad and forcing out lewd, sexist jokes about
                    the cheerleaders, or laughing at another one of my brother's
               faggot-in-a-hottub jokes -- it just gets me down.  Mom doesn't help by
                          keeping Jimmy Swaggart on TV all Sunday morning.
                   Stuff like that makes me almost look forward to going back to school
            (and it takes a lot to make me look forward to that!)  I'm a student at Santa
              Lucia City College.  It's a dumpy little school a few miles outside of a
            dumpy little town, but it's the "back door" to the university nearby, so I'm
                                       going to give it a try.
                  I've got some hard classes lined up this quarter:  Calculus, Physics,
            and Philosophy for instance.  My first class, though, breaks up the monotony
             of a purely academic schedule.  All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy,
                         as they say.  My first class of the day is fencing.
                  I don't know the slightest thing about fencing.  All I know is what I
             saw on the olympics or in those old swashbuckler movies.  I wouldn't know a
             parry from a riposte or a lunge from a thrust.  But it looks kind of fun to
                             learn, and at least it won't have homework!
                       So on the first day of class, I drive to school through the
            early-morning fog.  Naturally, half of the "staff" parking places are empty,
            but I have to park a mile off campus.  I get out of the car and walk through
             the dew-covered grass to the Physical Education building.  I enter the gym
            and join about ten people waiting for class to begin.  A few others wander in
                                as the clock ticks on toward 8:00 AM.
                   "Have any of you fenced before?" one asks.  Only one person answers.
              "Once, at a Renaissance fair, for about twenty minutes," she says.  So it
            looks like we're all in this together -- complete beginners.  There oughta be
                          a law against handing swords to a mob of novices.
                   The professor walks in, though, and that's the first thing she does.
             She leads us down the hall to the equipment room and we each get outfitted
            with a mask, jacket, glove and fencing foil.  Processing each of us takes up
             just about the whole class period, so after I get my stuff I decide to just
                                    hang back and size people up.
                  The class is just about equally divided male and female, with students
             fat and thin, tall and short, muscular and scrawny.  A couple of women are
            struggling with the zippers on the back of each other's fencing jackets, and
            one guy is trying to figure out how to put on his mask while wearing glasses.
            Naturally, I keep on the lookout for cute guys, but nobody strikes my fancy.
                 That's kind of a drag but after all, I came to fence, not to fuck.
                  After all of our equipment is checked out, the professor leads us back
            to the gym.  As we walk in the door, I see this guy outfitted in his fencing
            jacket and white leotards doing stretching exercises on the opposite wall.  I
             can't see his face, but I'm sure looking!  I can tell from behind that this
                 guy is built, and I can hardly wait to see the rest of the picture.
                   I'm not disappointed.  Once the rest of the class have filed in, he
              gathers the rest of his gear together and faces us.  "This is Rich." the
              professor explains, "This is his second year of fencing.  I've got a bad
            back, so he's going to demonstrate and help teach."  Rich is not only built,
               he's gorgeous.  His smile and deep-brown eyes beam out of a smooth face
            topped by dark, sculptured locks.  He looks over us and says, "we're going to
                                  have a lot of fun this quarter."
                  I know I will.  Just looking at this guy all quarter will be plenty of
                                                fun.
                  The professor says, "go to it, Rich," and Rich does.  "Okay," he says,
            "we don't have time to learn footwork or anything today, but I'll try to give
             you an introduction to the sport.  Fencing is a game of finesse, not brute
            strength, and it's a lot different than what you see in those Zorro films on
             TV.  The winner is usually the one who has outsmarted, not outpowered, his
                                              opponent.
                    "The target area is the torso and back, and you try to touch your
            opponent with the tip of the foil.  Head shots and slashes don't work.  Can I
             get a victim... I mean, volunteer up here?"  We chuckle, then he says, "no
              volunteers, eh?  Well, how about you!"  He looks into my eyes and points
                                           straight at me.
                  I walk up to the front of the class and stand next to him.  "The first
             thing," he continues, "is that you should never cross foils without putting
             on your safety equipment.  All it takes is one little slip to lose an eye.
              The jacket is put on like this..."  Rich then asks to see my jacket.  He
               helps me into the jacket while explaining to the class how the fittings
                            should go and how tight to fasten the straps.
                  I wasn't listening.  My mind was in a fog as I felt his hands perusing
              my body in search of straps and fastners.  One hand would slide along my
            back, the other across my chest.  He even reached between my legs from behind
            to get the crotch strap.  "This strap should be fastened securely, boys, for
              the obvious reasons, but not too tight, for the same reason!  When you go
             down on your lunges, your jacket will tighten up, and I guarantee that you
                              will feel it if your strap is too tight."
                 "Now the mask is put on like this.  You grab the tang in back, and slide
            it over your head.  It'll take time to get used to it, but it'll be automatic
                         in a couple of weeks.  Now you put on yours, uh..."
                  "Keith," I answered.  I put on my mask, somewhat clumsily, but not bad
                                         for the first time.
                  "The target area," Rich continued, "is the full torso.  That includes
            all of the chest and shoulders, to the belly and groin, to both sides, to the
               back."  He motioned with the tip of his foil over my body as he spoke.
                  "Well, it looks like we're out of time.  Bring your equipment to class
                  tomorrow and we'll learn some stretching exercises and footwork."
                  I lingered in class while removing my vest, folding it, and putting it
              in my mask.  As I watched Rich talk with the professor, I wondered if he
            singled me out as his "volunteer" because he was attracted to me.  His hands
               sure didn't feel like he had only instruction in mind.  But my mind had
              concocted such fantasies before, only to have them dashed on the rocks of
                      reality.  I would have to wait for my courage to appear.
                                                               * * * * *
                  I waited through the first two weeks of class.  I had a crush on Rich
            like I hadn't had since high school.  His smiling face and patience melted me
             whenever I asked him to help me on learning a new task (and in order to be
             around him, I asked him for a lot of advice!)  Once, as the class was doing
            footwork drills, he passed me and slapped me lightly on the ass.  "Keep that
            butt in, and straighten your back," he said.  You can be certain that I kept
                           my back bent and my butt way out from then on.
                      In his eyes, his voice and his body language, I constantly saw
             flirtatious signs, but I was still too unsure -- too scared -- to make any
              direct responses.  I admired him as he lead the class, and I volunteered
              whenever he needed a "victim."  I asked for help after class.  I tried to
                    pick up whatever clues I could, but I was never sure enough.
                 The third week of class, though, I made up my mind to make my move.  No
             matter what, I had to stop beating around the bush and take the initiative.
              I didn't, however, know how or when.  The opportunity came Tuesday after
                                               class.
                     We had just been practicing the double lunge and class had been
                dismissed.  I had Calculus immediately after fencing on Tuesdays and
             Thursdays, so I normally only stayed after to practice on the other days we
                            had fencing.  Rich, however didn't know this.
                 "Do you want to stay and fence a bit?  I need a good partner," he said.
                  Usually I had asked him if I could stay and fence.  This was the first
              time he had asked me.  I interpreted this as a good sign and figured that
            learning techniques of computing derivatives of trigonometric functions just
                           wasn't all that important anyway, so I stayed.
                   We stood on the fencing strip and saluted each other, then the bout
              began.  We each advanced, then he put his foil out in a feint thrust.  I
             reacted by retreating and attempting a parry.  He brought his foil back and
            advanced.  When he advanced, I made my move and lunged.  Before I brought my
             foil down to his target, however, he made a swift thrust and caught me as I
                                         lunged toward him.
                 "Touche!" he said.  "You still rely too much on strength.  You have the
             power to break through my parry, but you've got to learn finesse and style.
            If you had extended your foil toward my target before lunging, you would have
                forced me to react instead of act.  Instead you gave me an opening to
                                              attack."
                         "Oh," I said, daydreaming even as I pretended to listen.
                                      "Hey, when's your next class?"
                                  "This is my last class today," I lied.
                                 "You wanna go get a coke or something?"
                                                 "Sure!"
                                 "I'll meet you down at the Cyprus Cafe.

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"
                   As I walked to my car, my heart beat double-time.  First off, to my
             fantasy-soaked mind, this constituted our first date.  Second, Santa Lucia
            isn't big enough to have it's own gay bar, so the popular gay hangout is none
            other than the Cyprus Cafe.  The head "bartender" there is a notorious flirt
            and he has attracted "friends" who told their friends who told their friends
                 and so on.  This is not a very subtle hint, if indeed it is a hint.
                                                               * * * * *
                  "So, come here often?"  I couldn't believe that the cliche came out of
                         my mouth as I sat with Rich in a booth at the cafe.
                    "Yep.  I like the atmosphere here, you know?" he said with a wink.
                 "Yeah, I know what you mean," I said in such a way as to try to provoke
                       him into revealing if I really did know what he meant.
                    Rich leaned over the table and crossed his hands in front of him.
             "Keith," he said, "let me ask you a question."  My heart began to drown out
            the folk guitarist in the other room as I nodded.  "Am I just getting crazy,
                             or have we been flirting with each other?"
                 Although it was just what I wanted to hear, I was so shocked to hear it
              that I could barely answer.  I stared, speechless, into his deep eyes --
            terrified at what I might find there, but unable to look away.  I swallowed a
                      couple of times before I could squeak out, "I think so."
                   "Good," he said, "'cause I couldn't stand playing this waiting game
            anymore.  I just had to know."  He leaned back in his chair and took a sip of
                                              his cola.
                  Now that it was out, I screamed inside -- Why didn't I ask last week?
                Two weeks ago?  Why was I so scared?  Why did I torture myself?  But,
            eventually, I had to acknowledge that what's done is done.  There's no reason
             to lament the past when there is so much to look forward to in the future.
                                         "So.  What now?" I asked
                 "Well, hmmm..." he said and took another drink.  He leaned toward me and
            lowered his voice, "I don't know about you, but I feel like putting an end to
                these three weeks of foreplay and start, uh, working on our lunges."
                  I was up from the table before I could even say "okay" and we were out
             the door and headed toward his apartment.  We took his car, and all the way
              there I was thinking about what was ahead.  I couldn't even talk I was so
             excited.  Just the thought of my hands on Rich's prime ass, and my dick got
               harder than the gearshift stick that Rich was holding.  The way he was
             rubbing the gearshift stick, I knew that his mind was preoccupied as well.
                 We parked at the Cyprus Glen student apartments and rushed up the stairs
            to his third-floor apartment.  I strategically allowed him to lead the way up
              the stairs so that I could follow that gorgeous denim-covered ass with my
              eyes.  Finally we got to the door and he thrust his key in the lock.  We
                          entered the room and he shut the door behind us.
                  The late-morning sun pushed light through the curtains and padded the
               room with a soft crimson glow.  Rich closed the door and threw his arms
               around my waist, and I put mine around his back.  "Mmmmm," I purred and
              pulled him close to me.  He moved his hands down the small of my back and
               around my ass and grabbed.  My dick in my pants was pushing seductively
            against his.  I moved my face down to kiss his cheek, and he immediately met
             my mouth with his, kissing me hard and probing deep with his tongue until,
                        suddenly, he broke off and pulled me over to his bed.
                  He crashed down on the mattress, pulling me with him.  I landed with a
            gasp and the bedsprings groaned.  The middle of the bed collapsed and we lay
                tangled together, laughing and trying to think up a way to unscramble
                           ourselves.  "God the beds here suck," he said.
                   "Mm Hmm...  But I suck better," I murmurred and lightly grabbed his
              earlobe with my teeth.  I slid my lips around his ear, searching for that
              ever-elusive point that I felt sure would make him quivver.  First at the
             top, then along the side, then as I thrust my tongue deep into his ear -- I
             heard him gasp and felt his legs, as tangled as they were, tense against my
                                                body.
                              "Let's get out of this mess," I finally said.
                                      "Mmmmm...  I'm comfortable..."
                   "Yeah, I figured, but lets find room for the mattress on the floor,
                                               okay?"
                                           "Well, all right..."
                     We managed to extricate ourselves and pull the mattress from the
             bedframe.  When we set the it on the ground, Rich came up behind me and put
            his arms around me.  "This looks pretty stable," he said.  I leaned back into
             him and rubbed my cheek against his.  I could feel his prick against my ass
             and so I pushed closer to him and began to grind against him.  He responded
                 in kind, and slid his hand up my shirt and pulled me closer to him.
                    His other hand slid down, slowly, down one leg and then the other,
             sliding against my rock-hard dick teasingly, almost as if unintentionally.
            Then suddenly, he rubbed my prick hard through my pants, and I almost jumped
            at him.  My cock was getting so urgently hot that, looking down, I could see
             the tip peeking out, too excited to be contained.  Rich slid his hand up to
            this sight and began rubbing the precum-lubed tip of my dick with his finger.
            All of that attention focused on such a small, and oh-so-sensitive, area made
                           me want to scream.  I almost couldn't take it.
                 I abruptly turned around and grabbed him tight.  This time I grabbed him
               and pulled him down to the matress.  I was happy to find that the floor
                didn't collapse beneath us!  I pulled his shirt over his head, and he
                returned the favor.  Unwilling to waste any more time, we tore at our
            remaining clothes until we lay in front of each other naked and quite ready.
               Rich looked me up and down.  "On guard!" he said admiringly.  I almost
                                              blushed.
                 I dove again toward his earlobe and while caressing it with my tongue, I
              let one hand slide over the downy hair of his ass.  With my other hand I
               started to rub his cock with an intensity of purpose that I never even
                                  allowed myself when jacking off.
                 He grabbed my ass and purred between gasping breaths.  "Keith," he said,
                                    "I want to come inside you."
                                         "That can be arranged."
                              His panting came faster, "Like soon, I mean!"
                                 "Let's check out some safety equipment."
                           "Mmmmmm..." he said, "I hate to interrupt things..."
                  I laughed, "Well, it can't be worse than being swallowed by your bed!"
                  Rich reached over behind his back and pulled a string of rubbers from
             his bottom desk drawer.  Within seconds he had ripped one open and slid it
                        over his throbbing cock.  "Are you ready?" he asked.
                 "I've been ready for weeks," I said and rolled over.  He rolled over on
            top of me, his dick falling hot on my ass.  With his tongue in my ear and his
             hand combing through my hair, I waited, expectantly.  Soon I felt him start
             to enter me.  I felt him tense, and then felt the moment of will it hurt or
                                          will it --- aaah!
                  He was in me.  I heard his choppy moans as he lunged deeper within me.
             I teased him with my ass, tightening and moving forward, then suddenly back
             with enough force to whiplash his balls against my butt.  "I'm not going to
                                  last much longer," he whispered.
                 "Don't let me hold you back," I answered.  No sooner had I completed the
             sentence than he was lifting his head and screaming with each hard thrust.
               Soon, he was spent, and he collapsed on top of me.  "Your turn babe..."
                 I gave his prick another playful squeeze with my ass, "you're gonna have
                                      to get off of me first."
                                   "Okay," he said.  "Gimme a minute."
                    I could barely restrain myself for a second, but I gave him a few
              seconds to recover.  Before long, though, I had jumped up and strapped a
            rubber in place.  "Ready?" I asked, and God, I sure was.  My cock was bright
                     and hot and hard in my hand as I guided it to his asshole.
                 "Never readier.  Go for it."  And I did.  With no hesitation, I plunged
              in with an animal grunt.  I felt his ass grab me and I thrust deeper.  It
             felt like he squeezed the blood from my cock straight to my brain.  I felt
              myself swell with the electric feeling, and I held it as long as I could
               stand.  I dug my teeth into his shoulder and put my hips on auto-pilot.
                     My head flooded; I became my cock.  All of my energy, all of my
            sensations, all of my attention was on my dick.  I grew less aware of my loud
            breathing, of my mouth on Rich's shoulder, of the room, of the earth I lived
             on.  And then I spit pulses of cum, attempting to extinguish the fire with
                                                lava!
                 As soon as it had begun, it was over.  I again became aware of the world
                         around me, and Rich beneath me.  "Keith?" he said.
                                              "...mmmmmm..."
                                           "So, d'ja have fun?"
                                              "...mmmmmm..."
                                              "Well, uh..."
                                              "...mmmmmm..."
                                       "...nap time, I guess, huh?"
                                         "...uh huhmmmmmmmmm..."
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