Thursday, May 28, 2020

COVID Closet (Part 2 of 3 Parts) blog post #391

Courtesy of
Does it seem a little chilly in the frat house to you? It does to me. Well, let’s see what happens next.


          The first two days weren’t too bad. Bruno nearly wore out his iPhone talking to everyone he knew while the queer kept to himself. The kid was quiet as a dormouse. That suited Bruno just fine.
          But by day three, that was old hat. He filled the next eight hours playing computer games, twelve sleeping or catnapping, one in the weight room, and three doing things he didn’t even remember. He figured his mistake came on day four. He began thinking about his last night with “the former Cherry.” That’s the way he thought about her now. He was gonna have to come up with a moniker for her. He wasn’t sure he could call her given name without breaking into a smirk. Maybe “Honey Dew.” He liked the melons, and melons made him think of breasts, and breasts seemed appropriate. Yeah. Honey Dew it would be.
          By day five, he was wondering what Harry was doing to keep busy. Hadn’t seen much of the guy. He spent his time in his room or in the library. Probably pounding his pud and thinking of hunky guys. Hell, maybe Harry was thinking of him while he beat it off. His back pimpled at that thought. The rat bastard better not be!

          Harry put down the book he was reading and stretched his back before glancing at his watch. Two o’clock. Bruno should be heading down to the little gym in the frat house basement any time now. That was nice. Harry liked to sneak out onto the landing at the top of the stairs and watch his frat brother work out in nothing but a skimpy pair of gym shorts. The guy had an amazing body. Harry especially liked his pecs. They were like flat slabs with an intriguing dark spot centered in the middle of each. Well not quite. The jock’s right nipple was slightly off center. Harry didn’t know why, but that sent erotic messages to his groin. Ant that butt. And trim waist. And innie belly button. And… well, everything. He shivered at the thought of another free show coming up.
          Catching a glimpse of Bruno passing the library door, Harry closed his book without taking the time to mark his place and scrambled to his feet. Not too quick. Had to time it right. If Bruno caught him watching, no telling what might happen.
          By the time he eased the basement door open, Bruno was already at one of the machines that clanked a lot but showed off the jock’s biceps wonderfully. He got the door closed successfully, but brushed against the banister, making the keys in his pocket jangle. Bruno glanced up and glowered a moment but didn’t go off on him as expected.
          “Where you been hiding out?” Bruno asked in a halfway civil tone.
         Crap! He was caught. He might as well make the most of it. “My room and the library mostly.” He tripped down the stairs. “But even I do a little exercise… walking mostly. So reading and sleeping’s not doing the job. Thought you might show me how to do some of those curl things or weights or squats or whatever.”
          “Sure, but you’re not dressed for it. You got any sweats?”
          “Yeah. I’ll be right back.”
          Harry rushed up to his room and wasted half a minute wondering what to put on. He had short sweats and long sweats. He chose the shorts, decided the sneakers he wore were appropriate, and gulped audibly before foregoing a shirt and racing back to the gym.
          He slowed when he hit the stairs. Wouldn’t do to go running like a little boy chasing after a popsicle. The analogy made him smile. As he cleared the bottom step, he halted in his tracks to see Bruno eyeing him critically.
          “Not bad, guy,” the jock said. “Better’n I thought. You put some time and effort in it, and you’ll buff up okay.”
          He thought his knees would give way. “That right?”
          “Make a muscle.”
          Boy, if he could only pick the muscle! Obediently, he raised his arm and tensed. His knees did buckle slightly when Bruno reached out and squeezed his upper arm.
          “A little work and that’ll pop right up.”
          Wouldn’t take any work at all to make the muscle he was thinking of pop up. “Can you show me what I need to know?”
          “Yeah, we can work out a routine for you. Not too tough a one at first, but it’ll condition you.”
          Harry’s heart raced at the thought of working alongside the nearly naked hunk. Did he have on one of those jock strap things under those thin shorts? “Thanks, Bruno.”
          Harry noticed they overstayed the hour Bruno usually put in down in the basement. Understandable, his new mentor spent a lot of time showing Harry how to do this or that or the other. He didn’t give a damn about the exercise, but he went goose-pimply every time Bruno touched him to correct this stance or put his knees in the right position or whatever. Later, while Harry was lying abed taking care of the condition caused by his proximity to Bruno, it occurred to him that the jock had touched him just about everywhere except for the muscle he was exercising at the time. Hell, was it a muscle or an organ? And then the moment came, and his mind ceded rational thought to a detonation of exquisite sensations.

          As they worked out the next day, Bruno came to understand Harry had put himself into his hands. The kid knew nothing about workouts. Bruno was constantly correcting a stance or showing the guy something new. His chest swelled. Hell! He was a mentor. A teacher. A coach. Felt kinda good. He glanced over at Harry working hard on the frat’s cheap-ass, unstable stair stepper, frowning, concentrating… working.
          The kid wasn’t as scrawny as he’d thought. Good muscles on a slight frame. Hell, give him the summer, and he’d have Harry Cooper as beefed as any jock in school. His eyes roamed the figure.
          Christ! Why was he eyeing Harry’s butt? And the muscles playing in his back and thighs. Damn, what was happening. He needed another night with Honey Dew. But Bruno had to admit Harry was behaving himself. Hadn’t come on to him at all. Acting decent. Maybe he’d been too hard on the guy. Maybe Harry wasn’t a fag at all.

Do you perceive some changing attitudes in this story? They say that in good fiction, the characters change and evolve. But wow! We’re only seven days into their isolation, and some changes do seem to be taking place.

Until next week.

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See you next week.


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