Chapter 10
April, 2024
Travis
I headed for the surface of the pool, pushing my hair away from my face as I emerged into the bright lights. I trod water, staring at Cameron who sat on the pool’s edge. “Okay, we talked about how Olympic judges score. Let’s imagine you’re a judge. How would you score that dive?”
“I thought it was excellent.”
I swam over to him and hauled myself out of the water to sit beside him. “So it would be a surprise to learn I’d probably get an eight for that performance, maybe as low as a seven, which places it in the Good category? And only if the judge was feeling pretty lenient.”
He blinked. “Seriously?”
I nodded. “Judges examine four parts of each dive: the starting position or the approach, the take-off, flight, and your entry into the water. I didn’t keep both feet together during take-off, my twist wasn’t what I’d stated it would be, I entered the water at the wrong angle, and my splash was too big.”
Cameron stared at the water. “I’ve got a lot to learn, haven’t I?”
I patted his knee. “Your swimming coach obviously thinks you have the potential to be Olympic material, or else he wouldn’t have sent you my way. The good news is, we have more than three years to hone your performance before they start picking divers for the squad. And if you want to be in with a chance, you’re going to have to work at it.” I glanced at our surroundings. “And as we seem to be the last ones here, maybe we should haul our asses into the shower and then get out of here before they lock us in for the night.”
He nodded, then stood, his Speedos at my eye level. I averted my gaze. I’d only been coaching him for five days, and I’d noticed he was packing on day three. The session seemed to excite him, but I knew that would wear off with time.
The last thing I wanted was to have the police knocking on my door because the guy I was coaching had a boner and caught me staring at it, then reported me.
Don’t shit where you eat, remember?
I followed him toward the locker room and the showers, doing my best not to notice how the tight fabric of his swim briefs accentuated the curve of his ass.
Does he have to be so freaking hot?
I’d coached countless college guys during my time at UCLA, and while it was such a hardship to be surrounded by students with lean swimmers’ bodies, stamina, and great breath control, I didn’t dip my toes into that particular pool. If I wanted young, hot AF and athletic, Grindr seemed to have a never-ending supply, and most of them legal.
I avoided the obviously not-so-legal ones like the fucking plague.
We went into the locker room, and I grabbed my soap, shampoo, and towel. The place was empty. I preferred early morning sessions as a rule, but this had been the only time Cameron had available, so I’d claimed the last coaching slot.
I squirmed out of my Speedos and ambled into the wide tiled shower area. Four jets jutted from the wall, and I flipped the nearest one on, bowing my head under the stream of hot water. When I heard another shower being turned on, I didn’t turn around.
The last thing I wanted was an image in my head of Cameron, naked and wet.
Especially if he was still hard.
I rubbed shampoo into my hair, then rinsed. I grabbed my bar of soap and worked up a lather. Behind me, Cameron was humming to himself, and it took me a moment to recognize the tune.
It was “I’m Gonna Wash That Man Right Outta My Hair” from the musical South Pacific .
I burst out laughing. “You are way too young to know that number.”
“My great-grandma used to sing it.” There was a pause. “Of course, I wouldn’t ever want to wash you out of my hair.”
I stilled. What the hell?
“Excuse me?” I’d clearly misheard.
“I mean, why would I do that? You’re hot.”
Holy Fuck.
“You shouldn’t say stuff like that,” I croaked, keeping my back to him.
“Why not? We’re both adults, right?”
Fuck . He was right behind me.
“It isn’t illegal to tell your coach you’ve been fantasizing about him ever since you saw him in the pool a year ago.”
Fantasizing? A year ?
Oh God.
“Look, maybe it isn’t illegal, but that kinda thing gets frowned upon.” And is likely to end up with one of us arrested and jailed for sexual abuse.
“Who’s gonna know, Travis? I can call you Travis, can’t I? Coach Beckham sounds way too formal.”
I swallowed.
“I haven’t imagined those glances, have I? You know, when I’m wearing my swim briefs?” I registered body heat, and Cameron lowered his voice. “The ones I’m not wearing now.” It held a husky quality that went straight to my dick.
“We can’t do this,” I whispered.
But Lord , I wanted to.
“No one is here. We’ve got about ten minutes, maybe fifteen, until the custodian checks the locker room. I know, because I timed it last night.”
“You… you timed it? Why would you do that?”
Cameron chuckled. “Why do you think I changed our session to this one?”
Oh God.
“You planned this.” It wasn’t a question.
“Of course I did. I think I was pretty patient waiting five days, to be honest. So my first question is…can I wash your back?”
The randomness threw me for a moment. “Seriously?”
Another chuckle. “Sure. I’ve been aching to get my hands on you.”
Washing’s fairly innocent, right?
As if in a dream, I held out the bar of soap. A couple of seconds later, he stroked my shoulders and back with firm hands, digging his fingers into the muscles, kneading my flesh.
“You’re a little tense, coach.”
“You should take up massage,” I joked, aware of my rising cock.
When he didn’t reply, I went to turn my head.
“Face the wall.” He delivered the words with a touch of steel. Then he reached around to my front and grasped my shaft.
That first intimate contact sent a shudder through me, and I forgot about criminal charges, my face splashed over the newspapers, and the university firing my ass. I let out a groan, stifling it almost instantly in case I could be heard. Cameron tugged and squeezed my dick, and I pushed with my hips, sliding it through his soapy fingers.
“That feel good?”
I snorted. “No, it feels amazing.”
“Can’t tell you how many times I’ve imagined doing this.”
I might have fantasized about it myself—I just wouldn’t have acted out my desires.
He leaned in close. “Want to wash my back?”
No, I wanted him to play with my cock until I shot my load all over the tiles, but I knew I wasn’t the one in control of this situation. “Sure.”
Then he was standing in front of me, his back to me, and dear Lord, that ass begged to be touched.
Cameron held the soap up. “You might need this.”
He was laughing at me.
I worked up a lather and washed him, moving from his shoulders, down his spine to the hollow above the swell of his ass cheeks. I squeezed the plump yet firm globes, catching my breath when Cameron reached back to spread them, revealing his hole.
“That needs cleaning too,” he told me. “And be thorough, please.”
I brushed the edge of my soapy hand through his crack, and Cameron arched his back, his hands braced on the tiles. I rubbed over his pucker with my thumb, feeling it contract beneath my fingertip.
“You’re right. Gotta do a good job, yeah?”
“Wait.” He turned, and our rigid shafts crossed. He wrapped his hand around both of them, stroking, rinsing, removing all trace of soap. Then he knelt in front of me, and my heart skipped a beat.
“I’m in control now, Travis.”
His words sent a shiver through me.
His hand on my chest, Cameron shoved me, forcing me to move until my back was against the wall, waiting for what was coming next. Cameron leaned in, as slow as you please, and swallowed my cock to the root.
I didn’t know what to do with my hands. I gripped his shoulder, then laced my fingers behind my nape and rolled my hips, fucking his mouth with easy strokes, my attention divided between the glorious wet heat engulfing my dick, and the door that could open at any moment. Cameron’s head bobbed, his hands on my thighs, and I cradled the back of his head in both hands, thrusting deep, hips pumping, pausing only to smack the head of my cock on his lower lip or his cheek. I peered between our bodies to where Cameron’s dick pointed, straight as an arrow but a damn sight thicker, and I took pity on his poor knees.
I slipped my hands under his pits and hoisted him to his feet. “Now you face the wall,” I instructed. “And show me that ass again.”
His breathing erratic, Cameron turned. He grabbed hold of the shower levers and tilted his hips. I crouched behind him, nudging him gently forward until a stream of water trickled down his spine, washing away what soap remained there. Then I spread him and dove in, loving the warm hole that jumped under my tongue, and the low cry tumbling from his lips.
Hurry the fuck up! a voice screamed inside my head.
I fucked that little hole, kissing and licking it, pushing at the muscle, feeling it loosen, my hand curled around Cameron’s shaft, so hard and wanting.
I could do this All. Fucking. Night.
“Please,” Cameron begged. “Let me finish you before he gets here.”
“That won’t take much. I’m so close.”
He turned to face me, resumed his kneeling position, and took me deep, his fingers digging into my ass, mine into his scalp as I face-fucked him, hips snapping. I stared at our connection, mesmerized by the sight of my shaft sliding between his lips, and I groaned as I came, my cum filling his mouth, leaking out around my dick.
When he’d taken every last drop, he gazed up at me with bright eyes.
“Fucking delicious.”
Then he grabbed his own cock and pumped, and a moment later he shot onto the tiles, where all evidence was sluiced away. I pulled him upright and claimed his mouth in a heated kiss, tasting myself on his lips, exploring him with my tongue.
Suddenly, Cameron jerked his head toward the door and returned to his own shower. I got the message and turned my back to him, humming as I made a show of rinsing off under the jets. Two seconds later, I heard the door open.
“Oh, sorry, Coach Beckham. I thought you’d gone. I’ll be back in a few minutes to lock up.”
“Fine,” I called out. “We’ll get out of your way.” I waited until the door closed before glancing at Cameron.
He flipped off the water and howled with laughter. “Phew, that was close.”
I turned off the jets. “Too close.”
Cameron picked up his bottle of shampoo and sauntered over to me. “How about next time we do this in a bed? Or even on a couch?”
I didn’t move. “Then you want to do this again?” I’d assumed once he’d gotten what he wanted, that would be an end to it.
Cameron lowered his gaze to my crotch, then raised his chin to look me in the eye. “You bet I do. I want your dick to go where your tongue’s already been.” He grinned. “If that’s okay with you—Coach.”
“If we’re going to do this, then you call me Travis. And this stays between us.”
His eyes lit up. “You got it. But I think I should tell you right now I’ve got this condition that needs a lot of attention.”
I froze. “What kind of condition? Is it serious? Will it interfere with your diving?”
He smiled. “It won’t stop me from diving, but it might take up some of your evenings. You see, I need an internal massage on a regular basis.”
His words sank in, and I grinned. “Well, I am a physio, after all.”