## Archive-name: Lunge

From: jfriday@helena.stat.uga.edu (Paul Stacy)

Subject: ARCHIVE: Lunge

Newsgroups: alt.sex,alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.motss

Dedicated to Ted Kaldis (c) 1989 "John Thomas"

{Note: This is the one Firsthand magazine didn't accept...If you liked "Inner Peace" or "First Times" from that magazine, you'll like this one too...same author, same style, but not good enough for the editors, apparently}

I've decided that there's nothing more stifling than spend- ing 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: Calcu- lus, 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 stretch- ing 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 over- powered, 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 fasteners. 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 equip- ment 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 profes- sor, 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 fanta- sies 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 prac- tice 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 part- ner," 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 deriva- tives 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."

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, speech- less, 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 murmured 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 quiver. 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 respond- ed 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 fin- ger. 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 mattress. 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 hesita- tion, 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..."

Last modified (10/09/96 12:15:29) by Eli-the-Bearded.

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