Friends and Runners

K. Nitsua. Copyright 2010 by the author.

Once more this is a story that takes as its starting point a true reminiscence found on the Net, and borrows situations and occasional turns of phrase from its source. I therefore must acknowledge and thank the original, anonymous author. Ken

Greg Combs recognized his old college roommate the second he walked into the Applebee's by the interstate. Adam was sitting in a booth near the entrance, facing the door, a smile on his face.

"Hey," was all he said as Greg approached.

He rose and clasped his hand firmly. "You made it."

Greg was at a loss for words, so he contented himself with a smile and a nod. He took a seat across from Adam and finally found something to say.

"Well. The power of Facebook."

Adam nodded.

Greg looked at the glass in Adam's hand. "What are you drinking?"

The server came up then and Greg ordered the same. He looked across the table again.

"Wow. Twenty-five years. You look great, man."

Truth was Adam did look good, though his hair was a little thinner and grayer than Greg remembered. He hadn't let himself go, the athlete who'd made Greg's sophomore year at college so memorable. Funny how a chance meeting could change your life...

It was the late 1970s and the start of his second year at the state U. All the world, and especially universities, seemed to be in a liberal swing. He had rented a basement apartment off-campus, sight unseen. It turned out to be one of two studio apartments with a shared front entrance and connecting bathroom and shower. Not much space but he didn't need much, and it was cheap.

It didn't take long for him to meet his neighbor who lived in the other studio. Greg had only been there a day when there was a knock on the door. He opened it to see a lanky, dark-haired boy dressed in t-shirt and shorts, the shirt soaked through and clinging to a hard slender chest. He smiled and stuck out his hand.

"Adam Kryznak. Sorry I'm a bit sweaty. I just got through jogging."

"Greg Combs. Nice to meet you."

"What are you studying?"

"Business."

"Cool. I'm in kinesiology."

"What's that?"

Adam grinned. "Fancy name for phys ed. I'm doing that and teacher certification. Going to teach or coach at the high school level. Say," he said, "You into jogging at all? I could use someone to run with."

Greg scratched his head. "Well, some. I was on the JV track team in high school, but haven't run at all since then. Maybe I should get back into it."

"Sounds cool. Got any time tomorrow?"

The next day, they went off on what Adam called a "short run." It was a warm day, and the run turned out to be two or three miles too long for Greg's out-of-shape legs. He didn't want to admit that he was getting winded, especially since he knew the other boy was running off his usual pace to make things easier for him.

For what seemed like an eternity they ran through campus, onto an outdoor track, then finally circled back toward their place.

Greg could barely get the words out as they ran up their street. "Listen, man, I'm going to quit. You go on if you want."

"Really?" Adam said. He'd barely started to break a sweat. "Okay. See you back at the house."

Greg stumbled down the steps and into the apartment. In the front hallway he bent over as his body was racked with the dry heaves. He struggled out of his sodden clothes, got in the shower and stood trembling under the warm spray. After a while he began to feel better, though he was exhausted and his legs felt like lead. He dried himself off and put the towel around his waist, stumbled through the door into his apartment and collapsed onto the bed. In a few moments he was fast asleep.

Sometime later a light knock on the door woke him up. Greg looked up, groggy, to see Adam coming toward him from the bathroom--he'd left the connecting door wide open.

His neighbor held out a crumpled bundle. "You left these. Where do you want them?"

Greg recognized his jogging clothes, which he'd been too bushed to think about. "Oh-just throw them in that laundry basket next to the wall."

"Are you okay?" Adam asked, concern in his eyes.

"Guess it was a bit too much, the first time out," Greg said. He tried to move and winced. "God, my legs are killing me."

"I'll fix that," Adam said. "Stay like that, on your stomach."

Greg realized he was wearing nothing but a towel. "Should I-" he started to say, but Adam had already disappeared.

He returned in a moment with a bottle of baby oil. "I was in a sports massage class last semester. We'll see how much of it stuck." Adam sat on the edge of the bed and poured a capful of the oil into his hand. "Now just lie there and relax."

Greg didn't feel very relaxed at all. This was a strange situation he was in, hardly a stitch on and someone he'd really just met laying his hands on him. If Adam felt anything similar he didn't let on. He worked on the soles of Greg's feet and his calves with brisk, confident strokes. Despite himself Greg began to relax. Adam's sure touch felt good.

Then he started as the towel around his waist was unfastened and parted. He whipped his head around. "What are you doing?"

Adam's tone didn't change, nor his strokes. "Your thigh muscles and glutes, man. That's where you're really sore, right? Don't worry," he grinned, "No one's looking. Now put your head down. It's not good for your back to twist like that."

Once again Greg obeyed. He was glad his face was hidden so Adam couldn't see him blushing. His neighbor's touch was strong, so strong that a few of his strokes made him grunt. Still, the massage was working. The soreness was receding and a warm glow was taking its place. He closed his eyes, and his breathing grew deep and even.

Presently Adam's strokes grew slower, then stopped. He spanked Greg lightly on the butt. "All done, man. How do you feel?"

"Incredible," Greg said. "Can't thank you enough."

"Don't mention it. Got to go jump in the shower now. Don't get up too soon, take it slow."

Greg waited until he heard the shower go on before he got up. He wiped the excess oil from his lower body with the towel, trying not to notice his semi-erect cock swinging between his thighs.

"So what made you look me up on Facebook, Greg?"

Adam's tone was casual but nevertheless Greg stiffened. It was a fair question. He shrugged.

"You know how it is. You've got time to kill at work one day, you start thinking about old friends. Especially ones with unusual last names," he offered, smiling at Adam.

"Yeah, I bet I was easy to find. And not even living that far from you."

Their dinners came at that moment, sparing for the moment the need for further conversation. They attacked their food with gusto, washing it down with more wine. After a while Greg began to relax. Adam had been perfectly pleasant so far. The evening might turn out to be okay.

"You must still be running, judging from the way you look," he said.

Adam nodded. "I've started to do more and more biking too. I'm doing my first triathlon this year. Better late than never."

"Wow, that's great." Greg's admiration was genuine.

"What about you? Still keeping up the running?"

Greg shifted, uncomfortable. "I've got to admit--not much. I never was that good at it, you remember. I work out regularly, though--weights, elliptical--that kind of thing." He gestured to Adam. "I have you to thank for turning me on to exercise. I always wondered why you stuck with me. I was pathetic that first time."

Adam inclined his head with a small smile, but didn't say anything.

After that disastrous first run Greg thought that would be the end of it, but to his surprise Adam asked him a couple of days later if he wanted to do it again. Greg begged off-his legs were still stiff as boards. It was probably about a week later that they went on another jog together. In the meantime Greg had gone to the campus track for a couple of solo outings so as not to embarrass himself again. Sure enough, he did a little better and they returned to their place together this time.

"Like another massage?" Adam asked, when they got inside.

Greg hesitated, remembering the strange reaction he'd had the first time. "I don't know," he finally said.

Adam smiled and cuffed him gently. "C'mon. I need the practice."

Greg shrugged. "Okay."

"Great. Get your things off, put a towel on the bed and get on your stomach like last time. I'll be there in a minute."

In his room Greg slipped off his t-shirt and shorts and stood, uncertain, in his jockstrap. He decided to keep it on. A few moments after he lay on the bed he heard Adam come in.

"Okay if I keep the jock on?" Greg asked.

"Doesn't matter," his friend replied, as he spread the oil on his skin. The treatment was pretty much the same as before, though Adam took more time and added more pressure. Greg began to relax again. He let out his breath in a sigh.

"It's a great stress reliever, isn't it?" Adam said.

"Sure is."

"Not just for sport, but for other stuff. I'm going to put up a sign offering backrubs during exam week."

"Good idea," Greg said.

"Course, it's not just exams that get guys stressed," Adam said. "You got a girlfriend?"

Greg raised his head, surprised at the suddenly personal question. "Uh-no."

"Better get one. Got to keep those pipes cleared, man." Adam was kneading Greg's buttocks with long, vigorous strokes. Suddenly Greg started. He whipped his head around. Adam was grinning, his fingers still inside the pouch of Greg's jockstrap, gently rolling his balls around.

"Yep, they feel pretty full to me."

"Cut that out," Greg protested.

"Aw, relax," Adam said, though he did withdraw his fingers. "I'm just messing around with you. You're not going to turn gay or anything."

Greg shook his head and lay back down. "You're crazy."

"Yeah, and you love it." Adam slapped his butt. "All done."

Greg rolled over. Adam looked thoughtfully at the swelling pouch of his jock. "You really ought to get laid, man. Look at you, throwing wood like that."

He blushed, but countered, "Like it's so easy."

His friend shrugged. "Anytime you need some help, just say the word." Adam got up and left before Greg could ask him exactly what he meant.

They were done and the waiter cleared their plates. Adam declined dessert and Greg followed suit. Over cups of black coffee silence fell.

He could shake Adam's hand, tell him how glad he was to have seen him, get up and go, and that would be the end of it. Greg didn't want to do that. He thought Adam probably felt the same way. Though he had been friendly and distant during dinner, his old college roommate wasn't making any move to end the evening. Instead he sat, sipping his coffee, occasionally catching Greg's eye.

"So you're at the college here now?" Greg knew that already, but he had to say something.

Adam nodded. "Coaching track, teaching some phys ed courses."

"So you ended up doing what you wanted to do. Good for you."

A shrug. "I guess. I'm not raking in the big bucks. Do some sports massage on the side, so I can make a little extra. Still, it's just me, so I'm not doing so bad."

Greg said, "I'm single myself. Newly single."

"Divorced?"

He nodded.

"How long were you married?"

"Eight years. I have a little girl, six years old. She lives with her mom."

"What happened?"

"Not sure." He knew exactly what had happened but he didn't feel ready to talk about it. "She was--is a nice person. Didn't work out." He had to change the subject. "So you're still doing massage? You were damn good at that. Turned me on to that too. I still do it."

"You do massage?"

Greg shook his head. "No, I mean, I get massaged. It's a great stress-reliever. You told me that."

He didn't tell Adam just then that his favorite masseur was a muscular man who was happy to indulge Greg's request that he wear only a jockstrap when he worked. Greg wore one too, though it always ended up on the floor by the end of the massage. He knew it was going to be peeled off when Tom's thick fingers penetrated his pouch and began to juggle his balls gently, slickening them with the massage oil.

By mid-semester the two friends had fallen into the habit of going running together once or twice, though Greg would occasionally beg off when he had an test coming up or a paper due. By now he looked forward to their runs, not only because he was able to keep up now but because of Adam's post-run treatments. He always kept his jock on during the massages and always got a finger stuck into his pouch at the end.

He'd started wondering about how to reciprocate, when Adam answered his unspoken question a few weeks later. "Hey," he said, as they walked into their place after a run, "After I do your legs today, want to do mine?"

"Uh...sure," Greg replied. "I really won't know what I'm doing, though. I mean, you're the athletic training expert."

"Just try and do the same strokes on me that I've been doing on you." Adam smirked. "Don't worry, I'll let you know how you're doing."

Soon they were both on Greg's bed, stripped to their jocks. Greg looked at Adam's muscular back and long legs, glistening with sweat and oil. He felt his cock start to swell in his pouch, as it so often had this semester.

He did his best to duplicate Adam's massage, his friend giving him occasional instructions. As Greg was finishing up with a few long strokes up the backs of Adam's legs an idea came into his head. On the last one he let his hands slide onto Adam's firm butt, under the straps of his jock. He tugged the pouch down and slipped a finger inside. Adam's balls were large and heavy. He raised his head to find his friend looking up at him, stifling a grin.

"Didn't think you'd have the nerve to do that," Adam said.

Greg shrugged. "You said do whatever you'd been doing to me."

"That I did." Adam rose and, to Greg's surprise, clasped him in a quick embrace. It was the first time he had ever done more than shake his hand or clap him on the shoulder. "Thanks, man. You did good." Then he picked up his clothes and was gone.

Greg sat unmoving on his bed. His cock was pressing painfully against his pouch and he let it spring free. The small bottle of baby oil Adam used for their massages lay on the bed-he'd forgotten it. Greg reached for it and poured some into his hand, then took hold of his cock. He closed his eyes as he began to jerk his rod. His mouth opened, his breath quickened as images of his friend played in his mind: Adam running alongside him with sinewy grace, Adam grinning at him in his crooked way, Adam lying on his bed naked except for his jockstrap.

Then he thought of Adam jiggling his balls inside his jock pouch. That did it. Greg's body pitched forward. He fought to stifle his moans as the orgasm shook his body. Instinctively he pushed his spurting cock back into the pouch so he wouldn't soil the bed, and felt cum soak through the rough fabric and through his fingers. When he was sure it wouldn't drip onto the covers he let go and raised his hand, looking at the glistening sticky fluid on it, still breathing hard.

His door to their shared bathroom stood half open. What if Adam had heard him jerking off? Greg stared at the connecting door at the other end, half-dreading, half-hoping it would open. Nothing happened. Finally with a sigh he rose on rubbery legs to get cleaned up.

"So you get massages from a man. That's interesting," his former college roommate said.

"Why interesting?"

There was a definite tightness about Adam's smile. "I wouldn't have thought letting another guy touch you would be something you'd be into now."

Greg lowered his head, nervous. They were getting close to things they had so far avoided. He wanted to clear the air, but his nerve failed him and he tried to change the subject.

"Whatever happened to that girl you used to date? What was her name-Jana?"

Adam stared blankly. "Who? Oh, her." He shrugged. "I have no idea. Haven't been with a woman since. Realized I was avoiding the truth."

"The truth?"

"About me, Greg. That I was gay." Adam's gaze pierced him, his eyes narrow. "Can I ask you something?"

"What?"

"Why did you want to get together tonight?"

Greg stammered something incoherent, then fell silent.

He had admitted to himself that he was attracted to Adam, but he fought to keep his feelings hidden. No way was word going to get around that he was a "queer." He thought about not going jogging with his apartment mate any more, but decided against it. Adam would ask why, and Greg wasn't sure he could think up a convincing answer. Besides, he didn't want to give up their times together. It was odd-Adam had a very active social life that included his athletic training buddies and a girlfriend, Jana, a tall blonde who Adam had introduced to Greg when he'd brought her back to his place one night after a date. Greg had been kept awake by their muffled giggles and groans of pleasure late into that night, but he hadn't minded. He had lain in his bed listening to their furtive lovemaking, his own cock hard in his hand as he pictured Adam's rangy body engaged in the act.

Adam could have left Greg to fend for himself socially, but he continued to seek out his companionship for their jogs, which couldn't have been in the least bit challenging for him. Greg wondered whether Adam had guessed his feelings and was toying with him. Yet his friendliness seemed so open, so genuine.

Greg couldn't figure it out, so eventually he gave up and decided to let events run their course. Their jogs together continued, once a week or so, and so did the mutual exchange of massages afterward. By unspoken agreement they always kept their jocks on during their sessions. Greg no longer bothered to hide the fact that Adam's touch made him hard, and he was sure that Adam was throwing wood as well when he rubbed him down. He'd felt his friend's hard shaft in his pouch at the end of his massage-they always finished by reaching inside their jock pouches and jiggling each other's balls. That little gesture had become so routine they didn't even talk about it. There was never any other "queer" activity or touching.

All that changed one December afternoon, just before finals.

It was a cold, clear afternoon, the sun shining brightly. They figured they'd be okay in their usual running costumes, even though snow lay on the ground from a recent fall. Once they got moving it wasn't too bad, but by the end of their long run the sun was dipping beneath the horizon and their icy t-shirts clung to their backs. When they got back to their apartment they fairly tripped over each other in their haste to be the first to get inside.

In the front hallway they jumped up and down, whooping and rubbing their bare arms, trying to get warm.

"Jesus. Is the heat even on in this dump?" Adam said.

"D-don't know," Greg chattered. He was wishing they didn't share a bathroom-it meant only one of them could get in a hot shower right away.

Adam read his mind. "Go jump in the shower, man," he said. "You'll catch your death of cold."

Greg shook his head. "No, you can go first."

His friend grinned at him. "Don't be macho. Just go."

Greg glared in mock annoyance, even though his teeth were chattering. "So you get to be the hero? Screw that."

"Oh for Pete's sake. We're both freezing. Come on." Before Greg could say anything Adam grabbed his hand and pulled him into his apartment and into their shared bathroom. His friend turned the tap on full blast. Steaming jets of water spouted from the showerhead.

"Strip and get in, quick," Adam urged. Greg was shivering uncontrollably and in no condition to disobey. He peeled off his sodden clothes and jumped in. It wasn't until the hot water had run over him for at least a minute that his muscles unclenched and he relaxed with a sigh, his eyes closed.