The Summer After

Written by: Alex Snow

It was the summer after high school. I had been accepted into college, had an ROTC scholarship and was excited about the things that lay ahead. High school had been a time for coming into my own, but at 18 I still hadn’t come to understand my sexuality as a gay man. I was fit from having swam and played water polo the last 4 years and at 6’1″ and 160lbs, had a lean and toned build. My job involved working outside at a state park and despite wearing copious amounts of sunscreen, I had a glowing golden tan. My time was spent working, thinking about the future, hanging with friends who would also soon be leaving and relaxing at home.

It was a small town, under 10,000 people up in the mountains near Salt Lake City. The health teacher, Mrs. M as we called her, lived down the street and was often in her yard tending to the grass or flowers. On a walk one day I noticed her in her yard and stopped when she waived and said hello. She asked me about my future plans and asked how I was spending my summer.

“Just hanging out and working, trying to save some extra cash for the coming year at college,” I said.

She paused for a moment recalling something and said, “Oh hey, Mr. Schaffer was actually looking for some help moving stuff out of his house. He asked me if I knew anyone that would be able to and offered $100 for a day, I think he is looking for this coming Wednesday… do you want me to give him your number?”

Already having a job and not wanting to give up any free time I wasn’t too thrilled at the prospect, but $100 was a lot of cash, and I really liked Mr. Schaffer, my former PE teacher.

“Sure,” I replied and Mrs. M took down my number

Later that evening Mr. Schaffer called my house. We exchanged some small talk and locked down the details of the job. Being a small town pretty much everyone knew what was going on in each others lives. Mr. Schaffer had recently finalized a divorce and was moving out of his house as they just sold it as part of the agreement. He seemed like he had a lot of stressful things going on in his life and I was happy I would be able to help him out.

Wednesday rolled around and I showed up to his place about 8am and saw he had already moved quite a few boxes onto the front porch.

“Hey Alex!” he shouted deeply as he waived and walked out to shake my hand.

“I really appreciate you coming by to help me,” he said while squeezing my hand the way you could imagine a gym rat gym teacher would. “The people who bought the place want to move in two weeks and I’ve got way too much to do still,” he said.

“No problem,” I said, “happy to help.”

We spent the morning picking up a moving truck and loading already-packed boxes and some furniture into it. We were moving fast but it hardly felt like work. Mr. Schaffer was pretty funny and cut loose even more now that I wasn’t his student. It had been about 2 years since I had a class with him, as the school allowed you to substitute playing on a sports team for gym credit your last couple of years.

He was the stereotype of a PE teacher and his style was a bit of a throwback. He had curly thick hair that was cut in what I can best describe as something akin to a mullet. He was about 6 feet tall with a solid build, lean but much more muscly than myself at the time. I thought he was cool because he looked athletic and had a confident presence. His eyes were almost always opened wide, excited and eager and at times he was too intense…which apparently carried over to his temper as he got in trouble for grabbing a smartass student by the collar once.

As I watched him move those heavy boxes I noticed the veins and moderate coat of hair on his arms. He had a torn up t-shirt made into what resembled a tank top on and you could clearly see he had quite a bit of chest hair that extended to his collar bones. I found it odd when I caught myself gawking at this but went back to hauling boxes without too much reflection, settling on the theory he had the muscles I wanted and I was just admiring them.

By noon Mr. Schaffer and I had finished loading the moving truck. We took a lunch break and hopped in his pickup to grab some sandwiches at the local shop. When we got back to the house he asked me how many days I was able to come by.

“Oh I thought you only needed me today. What are you thinking you’ll need,” I asked.

“Well, I have to unload the truck into a storage unit and have a few projects to take care of around the house I can use help with. Maybe the next 4 days, would you be free?” he asked.

“I work the next couple days in the morning, but could come by after noon,” I replied.

“Great, Ill give you a hundred each time, 5-6 hrs max a day,” he said.

I wasn’t excited at the prospect of hard work after my other job, but something about being around Mr. Schaffer was exciting, and a 100 bucks for a half days job?! Awesome!

“Sound good to me Mr. Schaffer!” I said excitedly.

“Just call me John, I haven’t been your teacher in years man,” he countered, then motioned with his hand for me to follow him to another room with some boxes that needed to be moved.

Over the course of the next week I continued to go over to help John. Something was different about it though. There were parts of myself that I kept suppressed in the past (like staring too long at guys) that I didn’t seem to be as concerned with now. Maybe having graduated and lined up some stuff for the future gave me a bit of confidence boost and I just didn’t care as much with what other people thought I was doing? I couldn’t put my finger on my motivations or my shift in perspective but I knew I was liking it.

As the week progressed we worked, laughed and joked. I think he was enjoying having some company and a distraction around after the bummer that was his divorce. I was enjoying going over more each day in a way I didn’t understand. He was turning into a bit of a mentor but still felt young spirited enough I could joke and relate to him. I would feel almost giddy when I would get a smile out of him. Even stranger as we worked in the heat and got sweaty, my heart raced at the scent he put off. It wasn’t nasty like B.O, but rather the smell of someone who recently showered and then sweat right after- just purely him. I didn’t understand it but I knew I wanted to be around him.

By the end of the week we started to roughhouse a bit. I would say some stupid cocky line and he’d playfully pushed me. I’d respond with an ‘aw hell no’ and jump on him trying to take him down, that kind of thing. The very first time I leaped on him I felt the firmness of his back on my chest and froze in surprise at the sensation. He only saw in this an opportunity to grab and flip me, wrestling me to the ground. Now I was pinned underneath him, even more unable to process what things my brain was working out. I think he picked up on something being slightly off and paused for just a moment himself before playfully slapping me in the face in what seemed like an effort to circumvent the awkward moment.

“Remember who’s the boss, bitch,” he teased playfully as he flexed his muscles.

I laughed, feeling more comfortable he was either oblivious to what was going on in my mind or just not acknowledging it to spare me any embarrassment.

We eventually finished up the last of the projects he had with the house on the fourth day and we stood there in what seemed a bit of an empty moment, knowing there wouldn’t be more to do together tomorrow. It was a feeling kind of like the melancholy of a Sunday before work, mixed with a sense of missing him even though he was standing right there. I was sad that John, 18 years my senior at 36, probably wouldn’t think of hanging out with me outside of needing work done. Why would a guy that taught me PE want to spend free time with me?

Just then John said “Hey, Im not looking for a place to buy until next year, lost too much in the divorce. Im going to stay at a friends when school starts back up again, but in the meantime I’m planning to get out of town to travel and camp a bit, hike, bike etc. You were really athletic from what I remember in class and I think you like those sorts of things. I’ll be heading up to this lake way back in the Uintas this weekend, You up for it?”

“Yeah that sounds chill,” I replied.

My response may have been muted but inside I was feeling very excited which again, I didn’t quite understand. I told myself it was because camping and hiking with my new found friend of sorts sounded like an awesome time, but that didn’t feel like the whole story.

“Awesome. I have all the gear, if you have a sleeping bag thats all you’ll need,” he said.

“Yeah I got a bag,” I responded.

“Im going to load my pickup Friday evening, be over around 9am and we will roll out then, sound good?” he asked as he furrowed his brow.

“Ya, see you then!” I said.

Friday morning rolled around we took off toward the Uintas. As we drove up into the mountains paved road turned to gravel, then dirt, then eventually into what didn’t even look like a road. John seemed to know where he was going so I didn’t think too much of it and just fiddled with playing pop music that he made fun of me for listening to, but also seemed to like.

We eventually reached our spot, a beautiful place surrounded by aspens that opened up to a crystal clear lake. We were unsurprisingly the only ones there and grabbed the gear out of the bed of the truck and started setting up on what I felt was the perfect spot. I noticed the tent wasn’t particularly big. It had printed on the bag it fit up to three people, but as those things go it probably fit two without any extra room. My mind considered this with John being my tent mate and I felt a smile form on my face.

We set up a makeshift fire pit and finished laying out our gear. John disappeared for a second and I figured he went to take a piss. My jaw dropped as I had stuck my hand in the water earlier and knew how cold it was. John leaped in, flinging his body as far into the water as he could, then promptly popped up screaming, “FUUUUCK this shit is cold!”

I laughed and without thought also ran screaming toward the lake, flinging off my clothes as I ran but keeping my boxer briefs on. When my body hit the water I reflexively gasped from the shock of the temperature. My arms did a couple of frantic strokes toward John and I crawled onto him screaming how cold it was and trying to dunk him below the water. My arms were wrapped around his thick neck, tugging and pulling to no avail. He grabbed them and promptly flipped me over his shoulder, dunking me in the freezing water and shouting “thats what you get”!

After only 2 or 3 minutes in the water we retreated to the shore and the warmth of the strong sun and began to dry off with the t-shirts we shed on the ground.

I fully noticed Mr. Schaffers body now, as it was the first time I had seen him without a shirt. He had a dark but uniformed hair across his chest and stomach. His pecs were defined, nipples moderately sized and erect from the cold and his torso toned. Not a six pack but something I felt was natural and more what I also aspired to. His arms were well shaped with large deltoids and defined biceps and triceps. He had vascular forearms as well and you could make out clearly the many veins. His legs were built, but had the look of being functionally fit like someone who ran but also did squats.

Finally I found myself fixated on his groin. I wasn’t surprised he wore briefs. They weren’t popular at the time but as I said, his sense of style was a bit behind. The water had matted the cotton fabric tightly to his cock and balls. There were three distinct lumps- two heavy testicles and one (despite the cold) rather large mass that was the shaft of his cock, along with his dark pubes also partially visible through the translucent white cotton.

He looked up at me as he was drying and saw me staring. I quickly glanced away as if I hadn’t been gawking and he started telling some story which was an obvious effort to spare me embarrassment, the kindness of which only made me feel more drawn to him.

We made sandwiches and went for a long hike. Mr. Schaffer, or John as I keep forgetting to call him during our times together, had been there before and led the way. I didn’t mind walking behind him on the narrow trail further up the mountains as I enjoyed looking at his broad and muscly back and watching his ass as it bounced around in his shorts. It was becoming harder to tell myself I was simply appreciating features on a body I would like to have also. When we stopped for some water I sat next to him on a rock. The sweat was glistening on his body and the masculine scent emanating from him and stinging my nostrils.

I knew I was looking ok too, my muscles pumped from pulling myself up rocks and the steep slope, my tan body also glistening in the sun. I had some hair on my chest, extending from my nipples and chest down the center of my abdomen until finally disappearing into my shorts. This time I caught John staring at my well formed pecs as I took a sip of the water, only he didn’t avert his eyes as quickly as I did, allowing them to meet mine in a knowing way I wasn’t used to before finally looking away, which gave me butterflies in my stomach.

Finishing the hike we returned to our camp. John went to get the cooler out of the truck while I started a fire. We ate and talked as the sun set. A bit after we finished eating John pulled out a bottle of whiskey.

“Don’t mind if I drink a bit?” he asked.

“Nah its cool,” I said “I actually drink quite a bit of whiskey with my friends” thinking I’d be getting to partake.

“haha I bet you do but your sticking to water tonight! Im not going to give your 18 year old ass whiskey,” he said, at which I rolled my eyes.

We talked for an hours. When John would stand up to go pee I would sneak swigs of whisky out of his bottle until he caught me.

“Hey you shit! What the fuck are you doing!” he yelled as I jumped from being startled.

“What?!” I yelled back with a shit-eating grin on my face.

“Ah…fuck it you already got it in you,” he said, then sat down next to me to steal the bottle back for another swig.

When he plopped down his leg touched mine and I noticed he didn’t move it, which I didn’t mind. I wasn’t sure if he wasn’t aware because he had a bit to drink or if he was comfortable and thought it was kinda nice like I did.

Thirty more minutes of talking came with a dip in temperature and some sleepiness. John stood up and declared he was going to bed.

“if you’re staying up don’t fucking drink all the whisky you ass,” he yelled as he walked toward the tent.

“Nah I’m tired too,” I said.

I took one more swig from the bottle and followed John to the tent.

We took our shirts and pants off and wiggled into our sleeping bags. It was almost impossible not to touch in the small tent and our outer thighs were pressed together as we laid on our backs. We could have shifted and made a little space but neither of us moved. My heart began to pump faster and I felt the blood rush to my groin as my cock instantly responded to the sensation of his leg through the sleeping bag. There was no denying it, I was attracted to John. And in that sleepy moment with a couple of shots of whiskey in me, I was ok with it.

My cock continued to grow, aching with how hard it had become. My balls felt heavy and tight from a near full day of being aroused by this man. I looked over at him, quickly asleep, his eyes closed, lips slightly apart. I wanted so badly to be closer to him, to feel more of him on me, and without the material of the sleeping bag between our skin.

After a few minutes of laying there, my cock aching from how engorged it had become, I rolled toward him. Laying on my side my forearm was now resting on his shoulder and bicep. I don’t know if he was asleep or not, but neither of us moved. I felt as close to a guy as I had ever felt in that moment. I didn’t quite understand everything that was going on in my head but I knew I liked it.

What felt like only moments later I found myself opening my eyes as I must have drifted off to sleep. It was warm in the sleeping bag and I began to think how I could unzip it a bit without waking John up. Thats when I realized John also must have gotten warm in the middle of the night because he had unzipped his whole bag and was laying on his back next to me in his underwear.

John must have gotten aroused in his sleep because to my surprise his seemingly massive cock was engorged, fighting to get out of his underwear! The head and some of the shaft had managed its way out of the fly. It was bulbous, thick and uncircumcised which I hadn’t realized at first because it was so hard the skin was quite stretched. As I stared at it it pulsed, up and down. My eyes began to focus more and I saw a steady stream of pre-cum oozing from his dick-hole. My own cock was again painfully throbbing. I was so taken aback by the size of John’s cock and the pre-cum I hadn’t noticed he had stretched an arm out over the top of my head. My face was close to the side of his body and the gentle scent of his pit wafted across my nostrils. I was surprised it wasn’t stronger from the day spent hiking around.

I was desperate to both relieve the pressure I felt in my cock and balls and to escape the increasing heat of my sleeping bag. After a few more minutes of pondering what to do I decided to unzip my bag. I was hot and sweating but I also wanted to display my body so John would wake to see it in the morning. I had no idea what I was doing but I knew I wanted him to see me. I wanted him to be as turned on as I was looking at him.

I slowly drew the zipper down my bag and opened it up, exposing myself as John had. The noise woke him, but just barely. He shifted onto his side, now facing me without opening his eyes. As I had already scooted closely to him, with his turn his chest was now resting on my shoulder and his cock was now resting just above my hip on my stomach. It had come out of the fly of his underwear almost completely. It was what I imagined to be eight inches and very thick, the tube that carried his entrancing pre-cum swollen and defined on the underside of his cock and his bulbous mushroom head glistening on top of his veiny shaft.

My breaths became short and fast as I was now very tense, horny and not wanting to wake him. As I layed there I felt a warm pre-cum pool on my belly where the head of his cock pulsed. I looked down to see a copious amount of Johns fluid cover a sizable chunk of my abdomen and begin to drip down my side.

At this point thoughts raced through my head I had never had before. I imagined this mans girthy cock in my mouth, leaking the same fluid and coating my tongue and throat. I imagined the salty taste to be similar to my own (which I had tried a couple of times). I imagined him sliding his cock into my ass. My breathing became harder to control. I couldn’t take it any longer, I needed my cock to be touched. I slowly slid my hand to my crotch and worked my dick through the fly of my underwear, just like John’s was. While I wasn’t quite as long as Mr. Schaffer I was just as thick and my head just as bulbous. I too leaked pre-cum like crazy and I had soaked the front of my underwear thoroughly.

I dipped my fingers in the puddle of Johns pre and wrapped them around my cock. Then I began to stroke, gently. The smoothness of his fluid felt more amazing than any hand lotion I had ever used. It felt as though it was meant for this… meant for my cock. As I became more aroused I closed my eyes and must have unwittingly picked up my speed and begun to breathe heavier and louder. I eventually realized this, freezing my movement. As I opened my eyes and glanced at John I was horrified to see two open eyes starting back at me.