Rob was surprised at how Jack had fixed up the old barn. From the outside, it looked like any dilapidated old barn in that part of Missouri, but inside, Rob could see that Jack had made it into quite a home gym.
The walls were insulated and there was a floor heater in a corner, making the room quite comfortable, considering the cold outside. The mats were a bit worn but obviously clean, and a set of heavy weights, while also obviously a bit dated, had been re-painted and the handles cleaned of rust.
Jack took off his hoodie as soon as he entered, and Rob couldn’t help but watch as Jack’s mid-section was revealed as his t-shirt was pulled up. Rob hadn’t really ever seen Jack with his shirt off, and he was impressed by the sharply delineated grooves of his abs. Jack grinned as he tossed the hoodie to the side, and Rob looked away, suddenly aware that he’d been staring. He hadn’t meant to, but then again, did it matter?
That was the confusing part. Rob had never been able to just look, to take another guy in. His instincts were so strong that even here, when he thought that it was okay, he still immediately sought out something else in the room to fixate on.
“Those are nice weights,” he said, stepping up onto the mats. He stopped. He had on his boots, and the mats were clean. “I’m…sorry. I should take these off, shouldn’t I?”
Jack plopped down on the mats and began to unlace a boot. “Yeah. You want to roll for a bit?”
Rob hesitated. Wrestle with Jack? The thought suddenly seemed over-whelming. He’d wrestled Jack before. Wrestled so many guys. But this time it seemed different. They were alone, in the barn, and they both knew—didn’t they?—that this was going to be something more than just a grappling session.
Rob swallowed hard. “Yeah…yeah…” He hadn’t meant to sound so hesitant, but his heart was racing and he felt hot. His whole body seemed charged with electricity and although he didn’t want to, he tried to imagine Jack in just a pair of gym shorts.
Jack, for his part, seemed totally unconcerned. He flipped off one boot and then the other, and then his socks. He hopped to his feet and stripped off his t-shirt, revealing a body that made Rob gasp. Jack was built, Rob knew that, but without a shirt, without a singlet—which was how Rob had seen him in the past—Jack was muscled and gloriously defined. His skin was dark and his pecs were decorated with a fine mat of black hair.
Rob got hard.
“C’mon,” said Jack, playfully. “I can’t believe I’m finally alone with you. You are so…handsome, you know that Rob?”
Rob laughed. More of a snort really, and he wiped at his nose. He felt like a child suddenly. Like an awkward little boy with a man. This wasn’t good. He was going to have to wrestle Jack in less than two weeks for a State Championship, and he couldn’t let him intimidate him. Even though Rob knew that Jack wasn’t attempting to do that. Probably wasn’t even thinking about that.
Still, Rob stood on the edge of the mats, frozen, and unable to move. Jack grinned, and walked over to him, and unbuttoned Rob’s heavy coat. He folded it and put it on a chair. Then he walked back to Rob, who stood there, unable to move, while Jack continued to undress him—removing his sweatshirt and t-shirt—and as Rob compliantly sat on the mats, his boots and socks.
Then they both stood, boy to boy, in just their jeans, facing each other. Jack was smiling, and Rob smiled, too. He was so self-conscious, so aware that he was pale to Jack’s dark, so…hairless…compared to Jack. He reached out, and touched Jack’s arm, and felt a rush of excitement. Jack took a step closer and they were only inches apart, Jack’s head inclined toward his. Rob’s breathing seemed labored, as though he were attempting to breath underwater, and he almost broke out into a sweat as he nodded his head to angle it closer to Jack’s. Jack’s hand came up and brushed against Rob’s abs, and he contracted his stomach. Jack laughed, almost a silent laugh, and his hand brushed Rob’s abs again. Then he grasped Rob’s jeans and he gently pulled Rob toward him. Their heads came together, softly; their foreheads touching, and then they turned and their lips met.
Rob had never kissed a guy before. Never felt another man’s lips on his. Jack’s breath was warm, and he had a musky, manly smell to him. Rob had been hard, but now his cock became insistent against the fabric of his jeans, and he leaned in closer, feeling Jack’s body pressed against his. He opened his lips and Jack’s tongue entered.
Almost before Rob knew it, they were on the mats, rolling, exploring, touching. Jack’s body felt so sublime so absolutely right. Rob almost wanted to cry, not with sadness, but with recognition, with the realization that finally, finally it was happening. That he was where he belonged. That every broken puzzle piece had been turned right and now fit exactly as it should.
Then, their hands interlocked and they began to playfully struggle. Rob straddled Jack and held him on the mats, while Jack furiously kissed Rob and pressed upward, not only with his muscular arms but with his crotch—a sensation that staggered Rob with its implications. It was enough to make him loose focus, and suddenly Jack was on top, his hand down Rob’s pants, grasping Rob’s hard cock, and his tongue down Rob’s throat. Rob arched his back in a feeble attempt to bridge, but he wasn’t attempting an escape. He didn’t want to escape. He wanted to be pinned there on the mats, his back wet with rising perspiration, as Jack held him in his hand.
But there was an instinct there in Rob. An instinct born of countless years on the mats, in competition and practice, and in spite of how much he loved Jack’s hand on him, he worked a leg around and turned Jack. The hand down Rob’s pants meant that Jack wasn’t posted properly, so Rob was able to angle him up and over and catch Jack in a pin. Jack sensed the shift, and rolled to his stomach, working his legs up underneath him for an escape. But Rob was emboldened know, and instead of catching Jack in a tight waist, he plunged his hand down Jack’s pants and caught hold of Jack’s cock. He felt the slight pre-cum on the head and worked it with his thumb, causing Jack to emit a groan of pleasure. Rob caught Jack around the neck with his free arm and pulled Jack backward on top of him, angling Jack for backpoints that no one was there to award. He worked on Jack’s cock in a furious, frantic sort of way, sure that Jack was breaking, giving up, ready to succumb to Rob.
But he didn’t, not yet. Instead he rolled free and they both, by some mutual ascent, stood and stripped off their jeans and shorts. And then they moved in, and locked up again.
They went at it, arms entangled, and bodies flushed with sweat and the excitement of their passion. There was real competition there, but also a playful friendliness as they caught hold of one-another and released, as they worked for a pin, and escaped. Their strength was so even, their bodies so different, and yet so well-matched, that the effort to gain control was always met with an equal resolve to escape. Over and over, their hands found each other, working each other’s member. Over and over, their mouths found each other too, their tongues sinking deeper and their sighs and groans filling the room.
Then, almost before they knew it, they came.
Both of them.
At the same time.
Their bodies erupting in spasms of pleasure. They held onto each other, tense and nervous, shaking as the last drops were teased forth onto the mats shiny with their sweat. And then they collapsed against each other, holding tighter than they’d ever thought possible.