(by Edward Zeusgany, copyright 2001, all rights reserved)

When I began work on my master’s degree, I took an apartment in Salem. Then I joined the YMCA. and offered my services as an assistant to the coach of the swimming team. All boys, there was no girls’ team.

He really didn’t want anyone encroaching on his pond, but there wasn’t any easy way for him to refuse the offer of a volunteer with years of experience. Since he did not have much interest in diving, I was given that responsibility and no others. I understood from this, that I was not to advise the swimmers.

My knowledge of the fine points of diving was weak and I was not a good diver myself, so I read some books on the subject. I did my best with the kids, who were all in their early teens, and soon discovered that I was able to help them to a considerable degree. Their performances increased steadily, during the time that I served in this capacity.

The divers had their half hour pool time starting at six p.m., just prior to the swimmers’ workout that was scheduled for seven. The swimmers would start to arrive anytime after six thirty to warm up. When I was though with my kids, I would get in a few laps before practice began.

After a few weeks, I began to notice that, while I was having my swim, someone every now and then was giving me a poke. This took a while to figure out. When a lot of people are doing laps in a small pool, there is bound to be an occasional bump; but this was happening too often. Furthermore, these jabs were the same each time. Accidental collisions among swimmers are more random as to the location and severity of the clash.

It also took me a while to figure out who it was. There was a kid, who always did his warm-up laps in the lane at the side of the pool furthest from the entrance. I always took my swim in the lane next to that. The reason I did not at first suspect this boy was because he seemed to be all business. I had never previously even spoken to him, nor had he to me. When he delivered his poke, he did not break his stroke very much, and would wait until he was sure that I had my head in the water or was taking air in the opposite direction.

Once I began to suspect him, I took more notice. The coach addressed him as Paul. He was fourteen, slightly shorter than I, and had short, straight blond hair. More cute than handsome, his face gave me the impression of a chipmunk. His cheeks were full and rounded and he had teeth that seemed too big for his mouth. Nowhere on his lovely body was there a single sign of acne.

Now that I suspected him, it became obvious during the following warm-up period that it was he, who was delivering these little jabs to my side. The next time that he passed me, headed toward the deep end of the pool, I reached out and grabbed his ankle, holding it just long enough to disrupt his kick, slow him down, and make him work to get his rhythm back. I made my turn and was nearing the shallow end of the pool, when he jumped on top of me. This resulted in an episode of horseplay. Resting up at the end of the pool, we spoke for the first time.

Whenever we were swimming together, the little jabs and grabs and ambushes continued. We were becoming friends, although we did not see each other outside of those few minutes between diving and swimming practice. This came to an end, when I left for Fort Dix.

*****

I had joined the army reserve in order to avoid being drafted and loosing two whole years. In six months I would be able to resume my studies, to resume life. I was trained to shoot an M-1, was the honor graduate of clerk-typist school, and had on-the-job training at the battalion headquarters of one of the training commands. For that I received a letter of commendation from my Colonel.

When I returned home, I found that Paul was no longer on the swimming team. A few days later, I ran into him at the Y and he told me that he had taken up weightlifting. There was a weight room in the basement of the building. He asked me to join the little group that worked out there.

I had never considered lifting weights to be something that I would want to do. Swimming had been my preferred physical activity for many years. Weightlifting seemed boring to me. I would only be doing it to chase a fifteen year old kid and I was now twenty-four.

I resisted for a while, but Paul kept after me. I’d often see him, when I was getting ready to leave the Y. The weightlifters would be coming in. It was a small group. Paul introduced me to several, and had talked them into encouraging me to try it.

At first, I would go to the weight room for a short while after diving practice. I was surprised to find that I had a talent for weightlifting. I progressed rapidly in the olympic lifts. The local competition in the 123 lb. class was not very good, and it soon seemed possible for me to enter and do well. All I had to do was lose a few pounds and continue to improve. I decided to drop the coaching of divers, and concentrate on weightlifting. The swimming coach did not seem to be very disappointed, when I told him.

Paul had entered a couple of competitions. He had not placed, but he was improving. He was lifting in the 132 lb. class and the competition was stronger in that division. He had grown some and was now somewhat taller than I. His face had thinned a little. He was still cute, but less of a chipmunk.

Workouts were not as boring as I had thought. It was a nice group of kids who trained there. The oldest was eighteen. He was the leader, since there wasn’t a coach. Charlie was the best lifter and had the most experience. Everyone helped everyone else as much as they could. The group trained on Monday, Wednesday and Friday nights and Saturday afternoons.

After a workout, some of us would go to an ice cream shop near the Y for coffee. Then Paul usually wanted a ride home. He lived quite a distance from the center of town. On Saturdays, he would invite me to come in. I met his parents and sister. Paul’s father was seldom there. He had a large boat and earned extra money by taking out fishing parties. Paul would make me a cup of coffee and we would sit around and talk.

In the summer, Paul kept a string of lobster pots. He wanted me to come with him on a certain Tuesday. I was to be there by six in the morning. Summer school had not started yet, so I agreed.

First he bought bait, the remains of red snapper that had been filleted. Then he purchased gas for the boat and we were on our way. Paul had a winch, so pulling the traps was not as difficult as it otherwise would have been. Half of the traps were empty of lobsters. Others would have one, but it would be smaller than the legal limit, as determined by a brass tool that measures the distance from an eye socket to the end of the thorax. A few traps contained several lobsters of legal size. The catch that day was not a particularly good one. When we got back to shore, we were both tired, and smelly from handling the bait.

Paul saved out two lobsters for us to eat and sold the rest. He wanted to take the lobsters to my apartment and cook them. It was about four o’clock in the afternoon when we got there.

I told Paul that I was going to take a shower and that he could, too, if he wished. He said that I should go ahead. I hadn’t been under the water for much more than a minute, when he pulled the curtain back and stepped in beside me.

“Give me the soap,” he requested. I handed it to him. He told me to turn around and he began to wash my back, but he did not stop there. He soaped my whole body. Getting down on his knees, he washed my legs and between them. Then he pulled me towards himself, taking my cock into his mouth. The water from the shower was striking me on the chest and cascading over his head and shoulders. His hair was plastered to his forehead. Hie eyes were closed. I could see his long eyelashes lying against his cheeks.

When I came, he spat it out, and standing, rinsed his mouth with the hot water. I drew him to me, my arms around him and whispered into his ear, “If you don’t care for the taste, you can get rid of it quicker by swallowing.” Then I washed him and ate him, as he had me.

I wanted to stay in the shower to hug and kiss, but Paul did not. Gradually, and to my disappointment, I discovered that Paul did not desire a romantic affair. He wanted companionship, occasional physical contact, a relationship of comrades. I decided that I had better settle for what was on offer.

*****

Paul and his friend, David, continued to see each other as before. They had sex every once in a while. David continued to look for a more constant lover, but did not find one during this time. Paul went to college in Maryland, and had summer jobs related to his schooling, so he was seldom home. Even then, Paul did not let David know, so they did not see each other again. They corresponded on an occasional basis, until Paul graduated from college with a major in electrical engineering.

Paul moved to the West Coast, to take an excellent position with a major company. He was a founding member of a gay mountain club, a group for men who were interested in cycling, white water canoeing, mountain climbing, and other outdoor activities. He has broken a lot of hearts, but has never meant to do so. When they let him know that they were suffering, he viewed them as weak. After all, David never behaved in that manner, and Paul often judged others by his old friend.

David continued his academic career, going on for his doctorate, and entering the ranks of the Academy.

When I (David) began the MAT (Master of Arts in Teaching) program at Harvard, I lived with my parents in Salem. I had no apartment to take “Paul” to. I did spend one night at his house. It was the night before we went lobstering. His mother was at home. We were in separate bedrooms and he did not come to me.

We spent one night at my parents’ house, when they were away for a weekend. We slept, or rather he slept and I lay awake beside him, in the three quarter bed in my room. I kept a hand or foot in contact with his body. Whenever he noticed, he moved away.

I bothered with “Paul” because I had nothing better going, and because I really liked him. But why did he bother with me, what did he want? A loner, “Paul” had no other close friends, male or female, as far as I could tell. He had been given a double promotion when he was in the forth grade. A year younger than his classmates, perhaps they resented his presence and his all A grades. Perhaps he planned all along to go to Annapolis and knew that a homosexual relationship, if discovered, would disqualify him.

He had, from time to time, given me positive signals. Once he had said that maybe would could share some sleep some time. Perhaps he put up with me because I was the only one to put up with him. His parents were not very outgoing, particularly his father. It could be that he just liked me for my mind and personality.

After he graduated from the Naval Academy, he was assigned to a nuclear powered carrier. In fact it was nuclear engineering that had been his major. When he finished his four year obligation to the Navy, he secured a position with a private company that built ships for the government. I got a letter that said that he was engaged to be married.