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larger things to stick in his ass, and imagining that they were cocks — that guys were fucking him. The latest thing was his Little League Baseball bat, and he told himself that he couldn’t do that again, because it was too large and awkward, though he knew that he would try it, and maybe even move onto something larger, because it was like he had an insatiable need to do it to himself. If only Luke would fuck him!
    Mitchell turned at the end of the pool, and he knew his cock was soft. He told himself not to worry about it and to concentrate on the race. He had been put into the relay team and he didn’t want to lose the opportunity. He had turned first, and he could come home first, giving Tyler a good start for breaststroke.
    The problem with swimming backstroke was that people could see his cock in his speedos (or Mitchell imagined the guys could) and now it was definitely shrunken, a piece of soft skin, and he was coming home, and coming home strong. He pushed the thought of his cock out of his mind and concentrated on the last few strokes. His hand hit the wall and he saw Tyler dive over him, and then he turned quickly, trying to see how much of a head start he had given Tyler. Not much, but he had certainly won. Jack hadn’t been winning.
    Suddenly, there was an arm. Tadd reached down towards him. Mitchell took his hand and Tadd pulled him out of the pool in one flowing movement. He was that strong. Mitchell stumbled forward as Tadd lifted him, trying to find his footing, and as he stumbled, the back of his hand was suddenly pressed against Tadd’s cock and balls, soft and warm in his wet speedos, and almost instantly, Mitchell felt his cock harden, poking forward in his speedos. He moved his hand away, but he had certainly left it there, pushed up against Tadd’s cock and balls for longer than he needed to, feeling them with the back of his hand while he tried to regain his balance. Shit, he thought to himself. That had felt so good. He had never touched another guy’s cock and balls before. And Tadd was smiling at him.
    “You did well,” he said, patting Mitchell on the back.
    “What was the time?”
    Tadd told him and Mitchell nodded. Not his best time, but not bad, and Tyler was coming home strong. Suddenly, Tadd pushed Mitchell, pushing him with one hand like he was nothing, pushing him out of the way so that he could get to the blocks for the butterfly leg.
    Mitchell stumbled and almost fell. It made him feel like shit, being pushed like that. He stared at Tadd’s back. He felt like pushing him in. He felt like punching Tadd in the small of the back. He turned around and looked for his towel. Who gave a shit what time Tadd did? How could the guy act like that, congratulate him and pat him on the back, and then push him out of the way like he was nothing? He had a sudden impression of how Tadd must see him, as a nobody, a nothing, a weak little fuckhead with no cock and balls, someone who wasn’t even worth Tadd’s time.
    He walked over to the bench and grabbed his towel, and then, drying himself, he saw that there was someone in the bleachers — Sarah — the girl he was supposed to ask out, sitting there on her own. She was wearing a pink cardigan, had a wide skirt and pearls on, as though she had just stepped out of the nineteen fifties. She lifted her arm and waved. Mitchell waved back, a little half-heartedly. That was the last thing he needed, some girl to go crazy over him. He wondered how long she had been there and if she had seen him in his speedos. Hell, plenty of people had seen him in his speedos. He wrapped his towel around his waist, and fifteen minutes later training was over.

11
    Mitchell walked slowly toward the showers, doing it deliberately. He did sometimes make it into the first group of guys in the locker room, depending on who Coach Marley was talking to, though today he made sure that he was last. He hoped, as he had been hoping all day, that Jack would be sitting on the