Unlikely Love 1

Of all my classes at high school, gym is probably my least favorite. The pointless exercises we're forced to do every day I could easily do on my own time - and mostly, I do. Yet, here I was in my senior year at Midland High School, in San Francisco, CA, swimming around in the pool, hating every minute of it. Gym was my last class of the day. The coach blew his whistle, and everyone started climbing out of the pool, and headed for the locker room. 

Ever since I had been young, I knew that I was only into dudes. Living near the beach my whole life, I'd spent a lot of time there admiring the hot guys in their speedos and wetsuits. The lifeguard of the beach had seemed like a God to me - he had an amazing physique, gorgeous tanned skin. I'd watch him every day on the beach, sitting up in his chair in his tight red swim suit, never moving. Later, I got into surfing, and I'd been going out on the water to this day. There were quite a few hot men I knew who tried to go to the beach and catch some waves, as often as I did - but as far as I could tell, I was the only gay one. 

I grabbed onto the pool ladder and rose my bronzed, 6 foot frame out of the pool, water sliding down my body. The warm, bright fall sun blazed down, making me sweat. Pushing my long, dirty blonde hair out of my eyes, I grabbed my towel from the deck and headed for the locker room to shower. As I strolled down the dank aisles of lockers, I could hear and see the football team whooping it up in the showers - shouting at each other, throwing soap, and smacking each other's asses. No doubt they had practice soon. I got to my locker, dropped my towel, and peeled off my skintight, thigh length speedo, revealing my 8 inch dick. It wasn't exactly soft by this time - the football players had been an eyeful. I gave it a few tugs, grabbed my towel again, and headed into the shower room, slamming the lock behind me.

Some of the other people in my gym class were already in the showers, too, along with the football team. They all had beautifully chiseled bodies, some more than others, and all of them were hung like horses. From my personal experience, I knew how big the dicks of athletic jocks were. I took the shower on the end, turned on the hot water, and tried to ignore them. My cock, however, had other ideas. It grew slowly as my eyes roamed over the other dudes, admiring their flat stomachs and ample cocks. 
"Hey, look, it's Turner! What a faggot!" shouted a football player, laughing at me.
"Hey, I bet you wanna come over here and suck my cock, don't you, Jason!" yelled Scott Davidson, a guy from my gym class. He grabbed his crotch and thrust it at me. "Little cocksucker!" The others laughed.
"Fuck off guys, I don't want your shit," I told them, rubbing soap in my asscrack. My cock was almost fully hard by this time, and there was no hiding it now. "Just leave me the hell alone." Finished cleaning my body, I snapped off the shower water, grabbed my towel, and got the hell out of there, mad as hell, but so horny by now my cock was aching. 
"Aw, we made the little fagboy mad, guys!" yelled Brad Weston, mocking me. He was the biggest asshole of all, as well as the quarterback of the school's football team, bigger and more muscular than all the other guys. I hated him the most, but he was an amazingly hot dude. I could see him across the room, showering in the middle of all his naked teammates, who by now were all laughing at me.
"Eat shit, Brad, you fucker!" I threw over my shoulder, as I walked out of the locker room, wishing I could punch his face in. 

In the 8th grade I'd admitted to myself that I was gay. I was only interested in guys - dating girls didn't interest me at all. People had been treating me like shit ever since then - I was always the gay boy in high school, and everyone always insulted me for it. 5 years later now, I was 18 years old, and I still didn't care much what anyone said about me. I was into guys - so what? I was completely apathetic to everyone at this fucked up school, I just wanted to get the hell out of there. I had no friends to hang on to, at all. The few people that I'd known before high school were now all a bunch of homophobes, too, leaving me completely alone. Brad had been one of them - I'd known him since the 7th grade. Or at least, he'd been in my classes. I think I'd said maybe 1 word to him, and that was it. In the 8th grade, Brad realized I was gay, and never even looked at me again, except to make fun of me or punch me in the gut. He and his friends had beaten me up more than once before, behind the locker room, under the school bleachers. I'd even sucked their cocks, as they laughed at me, calling me a little fuckin' cockslut. It just proved that nothing could have been more fucked up, but it still turned me on more than anything - They all had arrogant attitudes, and I wanted to suck off each one of them, starting with Brad, although I had never even seen his cock.

I stomped out of the showers, my dick leading the way, and threw open my locker, madder than hell, hating all the dudes for making me so horny over them. I dried off the rest of the water on my body and tossed the now soaking wet towel on the bench, and grabbed some clothes from the locker. As I stood up, pulling on a pair of tight white briefs, I could see Brad making his way toward me, looking pissed as fuck. I quickly stuffed my dick inside my undies and pretended like I didn't see him.

Brad had the most amazing body I had ever seen. He must have worked out almost every day. He had a massive, muscular physique, the most amazing, tanned, tight looking skin. His nipples were large, round, and hard looking, and I'd always longed to suck on them. Brad had chiseled, washboard abs, huge pectorals that looked as though they were made of steel, massive arms, and bulging legs, a great v-shaped waist, a powerful looking neck. He had to have been over 6 feet tall, and his large hands and feet made him seem even bigger and more powerful. He was the hottest dude ever.

Brad flexed his rippling, dripping wet body toward me, wrapped only in a small white towel. His hair was dark brown, spiked up, and dyed blonde on the tips. He had closely shaven sideburns to the bottom of his ears, and a patch of hair just under his lip, which I found powerfully hot. His face was lightly stubbled otherwise. I could see Brad's unshaven happy trail going down to his crotch which was barely covered by the towel. The top of his thick brown pubic bush was revealed, but I couldn't tell how hard his cock was. 
Just as I was turning around to grab a shirt from my locker, Brad strode up behind me and shoved me against the lockers. Hard. "Mother fucker, I don't ever wanna hear you sayin' shit like that to me again!" Brad yelled.
"Go the fuck away Brad, quit givin' me your shit." I said quietly.
Brad slammed his fist into my stomach, hard, and sauntered away. "Fuckin' fag!"
Grimacing in pain, I pulled on my skintight white muscle Tee and some jeans, then I threw all my shit in my backpack and got the fuck out of there.

There were tears in my eyes as I walked off campus, mostly from the pain of Brad's fist. He could throw one hell of a punch. The sun was going down as I stumbled over the lawns out to the front of the school - it had to have been close to 4PM, so I'd missed the fuckin' bus and I'd have to walk all the damn way home. As I made my way past the parking lot, I could see a few cars left - mostly from the football team and coaches. They'd be practicing until at least 6 I guessed. My dick started growing again, at the thought of all those hot dudes workin' out in the weight room and sweatin' everywhere. I wondered if Brad was in there with them too right then. He was probably still in the showers, slapping his bud's asses and laughing at me. What a bunch of hot as hell fuckin' jerks.

I reached the front of the campus and started walking down the sidewalk towards home. I was madder than hell all the time - still trying to tell myself that I didn't give a fuck about them. My throat burned with anger.
"FUCK!" I screamed, punching the fence. This was how my whole fuckin' useless life was gonna be - hot ass guys fuckin' with me all the damn time. Not that I really cared - they could all just fuckin' die. I kept walking until the school was almost out of sight around a corner.
After a while, I was too pissed off at myself to keep goin'...needed a break. I flopped against the fence along the sidewalk and sat there, hatin' everyone. My feet hung over into the street. Thoughts of all those jerks pumping iron back there entered my head again, and my dick twitched, making me start rubbing it through my pants. 
"Stupid ass bastards..." I mumbled to myself, glancing back at the school. But then I noticed something. The parking lot was now empty - save for just a few cars. One of them, that I knew to be Brad's truck, was turning out down the street towards me. No doubt he'd be passin' and throwing something at me, so I quickly got up from the sidewalk and began walking a little faster - not that I was afraid of that asshole.

The sun was almost down by now, but there was still plenty of light left. I tried to ignore the noise of Brad's truck as it got nearer to me - at least I could pretend I didn't know it was him. Just as I was about to cross the street, he pulled up behind me. I spun around, fuckin' mad.
"What the FUCK do you want from me, asshole?!" I screamed, not caring anymore.
Brad just sat there in his truck, staring at me. "Come here, Jason."
"Why the hell should I do that? So you can punch me in the head again?!"
"Just come here you bitch, I wanna talk to you!"
I walked over to his sleek black truck, the kind I'd always wanted. It was a nice truck, although a little old, but I could tell Brad had worked on it. He looked at me through the open window, his hair now covered by a blue baseball cap. I could see his massive pecs and arms through the skintight khaki t-shirt he now wore.
"What the fuck are you doin' here? Don't you have football practice to be at?" I asked angrily. "You don't have to go out of your way just to fuck with me!"
Brad chuckled. "You need a ride?" He reached for a pack of cigarettes on his dashboard and tapped one out.
"You're offering me a ride? After the way you were? Fuck you," I told him. As I turned my back on him, I thought I could see on his face - hurt. Or was he just going back to his angry, fucked up attitude towards me?
"Don't talk to me anymore, jackass. I don't wanna see you ever again."
"Get in the god damned truck, Jason!" Brad yelled at me, sounding more furious than ever.
"Why? So I can suck your dick or somethin'? Can't find anyone else to give you head?!" It was out before I could stop the words...but the prospect of it filled me with lust for Brad once again.
Brad smirked at me through his cigarette. The smoke from it blew away in the wind...it was gettin' pretty cold out now. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Can't I at least take you home, man? I just wanna talk to you."

That stopped me. As I stared into his piercing, silvery gray eyes, I thought about all the times he'd pissed me off before. I'd tried to ignore it, but now, it seemed to be getting harder and harder to. No one would just leave me alone to my own life and quit fuckin' with me just 'cause I was gay. Why did they all care so damn much? Brad was the last person in the world I expected to be treated normally by, especially since he acted so homophobic all the time. I never could tell if it was just a cover up for him - or all the other guys I'd sucked off before, against my will. They had known that I wouldn't complain, either. Brad had real remorse in his eyes now, and I almost wanted to say yes. But there was no way I wanted him to get the idea that I was just a quick way for him to get his rocks off...although I would have given almost anything to suck his cock.
I sighed. "Whatever then..."
"Cool, jump in." Brad said, and started his truck up again.
I walked around the front, pulled open the door, and climbed up into the cab. The smell of Brad's rank football gear met my nose - his gym bag and dirty towel laid at my feet. I tossed my pack in the back as he cruised down the street. Brad ground out his cigarette and looked at me.
"You want a smoke?"
"Fuck that, no way. I don't go with that." I said to him.
"Whatever, fag," Brad chuckled, lighting another. 
"I thought I told you to stop callin' me that, asshole!" I yelled at him. "Just let me fuckin' walk myself home. I don't need you." I wanted to get out of the truck, but I just didn't care anymore. 

We came to a stop sign and Brad grabbed me by the t-shirt, getting right in my face. I could feel it stretching under his grip. "Don't make me fuck you up, Jason. You know I could any time I wanted to," Brad said quietly, glaring at me.
"Go 'head. I really don't give a shit what you do to me." I shot back. I was close enough to see the small silver stud earring he wore in his right ear, and the chain around his neck he always had on. The alluring scent of soap combined with his sweat and body odor filled my nostrils. 

Brad gave my t-shirt one more tug, and this time it ripped clean off, revealing my sweaty, heaving chest. My dark brown nipples instantly became hard as the cold air from the window hit them, and every hair on my body stood up, including the thin, blonde hair that covered my torso. I could feel Brad's eyes on my pecs and abs, sizing them up. I may not have been as muscular as him, but I still had a pretty nice swimmer's build from all the time I spent in the pool.
"You got a nice chest, Jay," Brad said, still eyeing me.
"You ruined my goddamn shirt, Brad!" I yelled, throwing it on the floor.
"So don't wear one," he smirked.
I rolled my eyes and looked out the window, the cold air blowing through my hair and across my chest. I felt my cock growing, and I put my hand across my lap. There was no way I could let Brad know how horny I was getting.

A minute later, after we had gotten on the highway into town, Brad spoke again.
"Where the hell d'you live, anyway?"
"West Pine. 3910." 
"A'right."
It was practically dark now. I looked at the clock on the dashboard - 5:30.
"Damn, I'm hungry."
"Well, you wanna get somethin' to eat?" Brad asked.
I was stunned. Less than 3 hours before - this same dude, Brad Weston, had been abusing me and calling me a fag for no damn good reason. Now, I was riding with him in his truck, being invited to eat dinner together. I was still pissed at him for the way he had been towards me, but then, there was no way I wanted to turn down a chance to eat with this hot as fuck boy.
"Fine...sure. Probably nothing to eat at home anyway." I mumbled. "I'm gonna need a shirt though...mine's kinda ruined." I glared at him, but the anger had gone out of me.
Brad chuckled softly. "Wear one of mine, Jason. You're probably too skinny to fit in my shirts though."
"Shut up, asshole." I twisted around in my seat, looking in the back. I spotted a balled up shirt, and grabbed it. It was a blue lycra muscle top, and it smelled like Brad's sweat. 

Holding it up to my nose, I inhaled deeply, enjoying his masculine body odor. My cock stiffened, but I no longer cared. Brad already knew I was gay - obviously he wasn't bothered enough by it to stop him from offering me a ride. Besides, neither of us had anything the other hadn't seen before. I rubbed my cock through my pants.
Brad looked at me and smirked. "What're you doing, bitch? You can jack off later, let's eat." He laughed good naturedly.