Ping Pong and the Lost Checkbook

[harry113]

Thanks!! Hot!! Beautiful!! & wonderfully written.
Next chapter please.
Harry

 

[testudfan]

Hello! Sorry about the brief hiatus, but it's not that surprising, really. I knew I'd have next to no time to post for awhile and with my work duties, it's not a shock that the next installment comes now. I encourage you to reread the last chapter if you've forgotten where we were (as if you could forget ).

Here is:

______________________Part 9_____________________




“You’re a mess.”

“I have my cum AND yours on me. It’s really sexy.”

“Do you wanna jump in the shower?”

“I probably should. Otherwise, I’ll get everything all sticky. You know, if you wanted to show me where everything is in the bathroom, you could come with.” He alit on the floor and walked toward the bathroom. He shucked his boxers and I realized that I had never seen his ass before completely naked. It had “escaped” having any of the hair that covered the rest of his legs and was certainly—what was that word again? — callipygous. By this time, he had turned his head around and caught me staring. “I know you like what you see. Come on, then.”

I crawled off the bed and followed him into the bathroom. His gait was composed and his legs carried him along in smooth, even paces—he was certainly self-confident about his body; but then, if I had his, I’d be showing it off to everyone, as a way of saying Yes. I’m perfect. Thanks for noticing. I turned the tap on and felt the water warming up as Chris stepped closer to me.

“Shower or bath?” I asked.

“Shower. I’m in desperate need of sleep.”

I turned the shower on and stepped in, holding out my hand. Chris looked at it for a second, confused. “I don’t think you’re incapable. Just take it.”

“Sorry.” He smiled slightly and grabbed my hand so that I was able to pull him in—slowly—close to me.

“You’re okay, right?”

“I’m surprised you have to ask. For some reason, I’m fantastic. I have no idea why...” he trailed off, smirking.

“No idea, huh?” I lathered my loofa (that sounds kind of dirty) and ran it across Chris’s skin, never dropping my gaze from his eyes, spending a little bit too much time on his chest and thighs (sue me) before turning him back to face the water; it cascaded across his back as I washed and I could follow the trails of the water as they highlighted his muscles, faint but noticeable, until they reached the curvature of his butt, begging to be worshiped. I followed the water with the loofa, partly disappearing in the smooth crevasse and I knelt to be closer. Six hundred thousand thoughts raced through my mind but their focus was the same thing: this boy was undeniably special.

I finished washing him off, stood up, and turned him around. My lips met his briefly and he took the sponge from my hand and lavished his attention on me.

“Your nipple’s really red. Does it hurt?” he inquired cautiously.

I touched it to see, and I shivered. Nope, I was good. “Not at all. It’s never going to forget that performance, either.”

He laughed. “I don’t know what it is. I couldn’t stop myself.” He pinched it slightly. “See?”

I rinsed under the shower head and turned off the water. Chris stepped out of the shower and grabbed the towel off the rack. “Oh, it’s really warm.”

“I know; the heating fan is right above it. I turned it on before we got in.”

“Awesome idea.”

He covered me in the towel and applied gentle pressure, drying me from head to toe. He spent an inordinate amount of time on my calves, I felt, but everything he did felt nice. When he was finished, I grabbed the towel from him and dried him off before placing it on the shelf and putting my arms around him. I guided him toward the bedroom and we waddled awkwardly for a few steps before I let him go so that we could actually make some progress.

“You’re so weird sometimes,” Chris said as he ruffled my hair teasingly.

“You like it. Admit it.”

“Whatever.”

We climbed into my bed and he flopped down on top of the covers.

“Oof.” (He’s so eloquent sometimes.)

I pulled him into me and he nestled himself firmly against my stomach.

“I know it sounds redundant, but this is exactly what I dreamed of that very first time I came over.”

“If I recall correctly, you said it was a great dream.”

“It was.”

“Well it’s time to have another one. You need to go to sleep.”

“D’accord. Bonne nuit.”

I shut my eyes and felt his breath even and temper before drifting into a blissful sleep myself.



I had really hoped that the smell of breakfast would wake Chris up the next morning, and I was right; it did. The smell of eggs burning in and sticking to the pan. How hard is it to cook an egg? For me, it’s impossible. Apparently, I should have made something easier, like zabaglione or duck à l’orange. Instead, I had to toss it and pour us some cereal. He didn’t say anything about the egg disaster, which I thought was nice of him. He knew, after all, that I wasn’t completely incapable in the kitchen.

“Do you have plans today?”

He held up a finger and finishing chewing before responding, “I kind of had plans with Robert to go bowling with his friends. You should come. I promise it won’t be lots of fun, with the possible exception being that I’m going to be there.”

“What time are you all leaving? And is Pete coming?”

“Probably about eight tonight, maybe a little later. And yes. I’ll totally understand if you don’t want to come.”

“I can’t avoid him forever. I’ll just treat him like the annoying in-law.”

“So... you’ll come with?”

“Of course. What time do you want me over?”

“Oh. I wasn’t planning on leaving here all day.”

“That’s fine, but I have some errands to run and homework to do.”

He laughed, “I was just joking.”

“I wasn’t.”

I was probably acting a little more serious than I needed to, but that was how I felt about the whole situation. If he wanted to stay at my apartment all day doing absolutely nothing, I would be fine with it. As distractible as I could be (and as distracting as his just sitting there was sure to be), I’d rather he be here than be miserable or lonely elsewhere.



Chris stayed the day, and I got most of what I wanted to do done (I took a couple of breaks to attack Chris because he looked so delicious in my clothes, but other than that, I was pretty good) and he even lured me into some conversations about the novel I was going to be reading next, Life is Funny. Mostly, he did the talking. He remembered every character’s name and storyline, and all the relationships, and all the conflicts, even though there seemed to be about twenty major characters and all the plotlines were intertwined. Whenever he talked at length about something, he became both animated and serious. Good literature inspires, I guess.

When we met up with Robert and his friends that night, both wearing outfits from my wardrobe (which was more than fine with me because my smaller waist really made my jeans hug his more beautiful butt), we joined the sweater-with-collared-shirt brigade on lanes 43 and 44. Pete was all over Robert—until he saw his new best friend, that is—but ran up to me and hugged me limply, much the way you’d hug Queen Elizabeth II; that is, if you were going to hug the Queen of England.

“Luke! I’m so glad you could come!” Pete squealed. “So you must really like Chris, huh? Are you guys dating?”

“Sure.”

“You two are really cute together. So...” he leaned in conspiratorially, “if you’re interested, maybe we could all get together sometime soon for some... harmless fun.” He winked, a gesture that was not lost on me.

“What did you have in mind, Pete?”

“I dunno, dinner or a wine tasting downtown or something. Robert’s trying to make me a little more ‘sophisticated’ I think. Between you and me, I don’t know that he really likes me all that much.”

“You two are together, right?”

“Not really, no. We never were. I hoped that moving in would help, but it hasn’t.”

“You two seem really dissimilar; is that the problem?”

Pete looked around and said, “Walk with me.”

We went in the direction of the bar and Pete restarted his conversation. “When I first met Robert, he was a lot more like me than it seems. He wasn’t afraid to be a little bit more free, I guess. I know I’m kind of stupid, but that didn’t matter before. Now it seems to. Truth is, I think you’re too smart for me, too, and Chris, well... I fucked him but good.”

“Chris let you fuck him?”

“What? Oh, no. Christ no. I stole Robert away. I’m not proud of it, but it never would have worked between them. Chris is so... intense, and Robert needs someone he can control. So I told Robert this and I basically told him he could use me, or whatever. I basically told him that Chris would never give him what he wanted. Chris came home one day and we were having sex on the couch. It was shitty. Especially since I had just moved in to help with the rent. Chris, of course, blamed me. I tried to explain it to him the way I saw it, but he didn’t want to hear it. Mostly, I think it was because he’s never had like a real boyfriend before and Robert seemed like a good choice. I’m not the nicest person in the world, but I stand behind the fact that they would not have been compatible.”

“Yeah, but then you hit on me, too.”

“You weren’t technically dating—“

“Doesn’t matter. They weren’t technically dating, either. You still have made a concerted effort to take the only two people Chris has showed an interest—oh fuck. I get it.”

“Get what?”

“You know what. But there’s one thing I don’t get: why go for Robert then?”

“Easy. I could get him, so I did.”

“Whereas...”

“Way too big a challenge.” He shook his head.

“Got it. Okay, so I’m laying this out now: it stops now. One hundred percent. Promise me, and this stays between us. I never told him about you hitting on me, either.”

“Really?”

“Really. There was nothing to be gained from it, and you know it would only have made Chris more upset. So it stops now, or I tell him. Everything. You have to give it up. If you don’t like Robert, let him go, too, but this plan of yours, if it’s even a plan, stops now. I can’t stress that enough.” Pete looked so defeated, it almost saddened me. Even though I don’t think it would have worked for him the way he wanted it to, here was the realization for him that it never would.

“Let me buy you a drink so it seems less suspicious that we’ve been gone for awhile.”

“No, that’s okay. I’m not drinking today. Robert wants me to stay sober.”

“And you?”

“I just want to have a beer.”

“What kind?”

“Bud Light.”

Shocker. “You go back to the party, and tell Chris I’ll be right there.” Pete was going to get his beer, I thought, ordering the drinks and watching him walk away. This had proven to be an eventful night already, and I hadn’t even shown everyone yet how amazing a bowler I was. When I got back to the lanes, I saw that they had waited for me. I gave Chris a little kiss and whispered, “Here it goes.”

The first ball I threw went directly into the right gutter. No surprise there. The second one made a disgusting *Pop* sound as it released my thumb, then landed with a *Thud* as it hit the lane from about three feet in the air—the angle was almost straight down since the ball didn’t leave my hand at the right time— then rolled at a snail’s pace down the lane, into the same gutter. Ah yes, all was right with the world.

“Geez, you’re terrible!” Chris laughed. Everyone else had been polite—I heard lots of choruses of “Good try!" and some attempts to give me some advice that would never work, I knew— but once Chris started laughing, everyone did. I was used to this. As coordinated as I could be on the tennis court, I sucked at bowling.

Chris sat down next to me and said, “You didn’t tell me you were such an awful bowler.”

“I didn’t need to. I knew that would become perfectly apparent tonight.”

He laughed. “Okay, you’re right. We don’t have to stay all night. I’m sorry”

“No need to apologize. I’m going to have a good time, regardless. I always do.” I smiled.

“I’ll help you throw the next one. We’ll get you on the board yet. What did Pete want? He looked a little dejected when he got back to the lane.”

“He wanted to talk to me about Robert, is all. I don’t think he’s as happy as he seems.”

“I believe it.”

“Hey, it’s your turn.” Chris got up and walked over to the lane. Damn, he looked really amazing in my jeans. Well, he looked amazing always, but I think he needed to add this pair to his collection, just the same. Then I saw that the bastard had thrown a strike on his first ball. Of course. Then another on the second ball.

“Luke, come here!”

I walked up to the stupid bowling lane and grabbed the stupid bowling ball and looked at the stupid smile on Chris’s face and muttered, “I hate you.” Chris looked at me oddly, but I smiled and kissed his cheek. “I’m just kidding. I do hate the fact that you’re going to score 200 more points than me, though.”

“No I won’t, because I’m going to help you throw.” Just like in a movie, he stood behind me and whispered what I needed to do as I did it, and I let the ball go and it took about a forty-five degree angle into the same gutter as always. It felt nice to have him holding me, though, so I was grateful for that.

“Okay, I got it. We’re going to do the same thing, but I want you to stand over here,” he said as he shuffled us way over to the left, “and I want you to pronate your wrist and keep it firm, just like you’re hitting an inside-out forehand, because you’ve just run around your backhand to do so. Then aim to the right of the second arrow on the lane right there.” He pointed to the lane and I actually took notice of the arrows for the first time ever. Yeah, I knew they were there, but it really didn’t ever occur to me that they would ever help someone as bad as me bowl better. I thought about the grip on my racket and clutched the ball and felt Chris against my back and together we advanced toward the line and I let go of the ball, staring the whole time at the arrow I needed to be aiming for and *Pop* followed by *Thud*. Crap. Considering I had even taken pace off the ball to begin with so that I could concentrate on the rest of the aspects of just getting the ball down the stupid lane, the ball went even more slowly, veering slightly to the right, though not as severely as usual. It was a moment of triumph when the ball hit two pins. I had two points. In four balls. It might have been a new record. Robert’s friends erupted in mock fanfare and I rolled my eyes and followed Chris back toward the tables.

“I’m going to blame the ball now. You know, find an inanimate scapegoat.”

“Good plan.”

As it turned out, all of Robert’s friends were pretty good bowlers. Pete and I were by far the worst, and I was way worse than Pete. In my first game, I bowled a thirty-seven. That’s an average of less than two points every time I threw the ball. The second game went slightly better, as I reached a record high for me of sixty-one. I begged off the final game, citing apathy (I was having a much better time talking to Chris and a kid named Brian about the US Open that had just finished) but Chris bowled his third-consecutive game that finished around 200. When I accused him of hogging all the talent, he shrugged and said, “What can I say? You inspire me.”

“How long have you two been together?” Brian asked.

“About... three weeks, I guess,” I estimated.

“You two are really good together. Also, you don’t make me want to throw up, which is nice.”

We laughed. “I think about that, actually. I’m not going to change how I act around people, especially around Chris, so at least one person doesn’t want to vomit in our presence.”

 

[hardreader]

I'm so glad there really is life after orgasms.

It's great to have this story back and see such a major twist so soon, even if it was in a bowling alley.

I hope the little break gave you a breather and left you energized, because I'm hungry for more.

Good job, as always. Now I'm off to find my dictionary . . . again.

 

[BlueD]

you kinda lost me on the conversation between Luke and Pete....when they talked about the Chris part and the beer part.... The rest is amazing as always though...

And I totally agree with hardreader about the dictionary...lol

 

[Craiger]

Wow! That was an awesome chapter. At least Chris is callipygian and not pygidial. lol
Truly a work of art! The story gets better with each installment.

Craiger

 

[harry113]

Another great chapter!! Thank you.
Glad they are having fun after sex! Lol.
Love your writing style.
More please
Harry

 

[testudfan]

Hello again! Glad to know that you all enjoyed the regaling of post-orgasmic bliss, and that it seems as though you thought it was a good idea. Whatever the case, I was happy with the transition

I'm posting this today, but you'll have to wait until Friday for the next update!

Have a great night!

___________Part 10 (Double-digits what?)____________

After that weekend, Chris started spending a lot of his time at my apartment, mostly at my insistence, and to my great happiness, especially as he took to reading shirtless on the couch by the window and cleaning random things that needed cleaning. Oh, and there’s that one thing: I loved him. There was no longer any doubt about that. When Chris went home for a weekend to do laundry and visit his family, it saddened me. It was only a weekend, but I wasn’t to the point where it was okay to be separated from him for three days. For Chris, he was much more logical about it; it wasn’t a big deal. We’d see each other really soon, so it’s not even worth thinking about.

I made plans to hang out with Craig (who I really had been neglecting) at our old stomping ground: the Eldridge Hall game room. During my Freshmen year, we had lived on the same floor of the same dorm, and spent a lot of our nights playing ping pong and pool with some of the other residents. I had gone from being the world’s worst ping pong player to quite an adept one—I won several of the tournaments we held—and Craig and I still hung out with a few of the kids from the dorm that never left.

Craig saved me from moping (I really was getting too emotional about this. Note to self: don’t be) on Saturday night and we drove over to Eldridge, called our friends from the call box outside the dorm (thus beginning the elaborate check-in process), waited for them to come down and get us, got out our school IDs so that the security personnel could check us in, watched as they filled out a visitor pass label, answered their questions pertaining to why we were here and when we would be leaving (were we passing through Customs?), then finally made our way through the doors that my friend Cory had to first unlock, and down the hall to the game room.

“Boy that never gets less boring.”

Cory filled us in: “They’re actually cracking down even more because someone had an overnight visitor who was younger than 18. It was some chick’s 17-year-old sister who stayed the night and didn’t get special “residence hall clearance” beforehand. Really, it’s getting ridiculous.”

I could hear the dull crack of a small plastic ball being hit back and forth as we neared the room: the party had begun. The only problem with the game room is that there was only one ping pong table, and the way we always ran it was that the winner stayed at the table until he lost. Since most of us are at about the same level, very rarely did anyone ever run the table for a whole rotation. But that also means that you have to wait awhile sometimes to play.

Right before it was my turn to play, Chris called. I wasn’t going to not answer it, so I stepped to the table with my cell phone in one hand and paddle in the other and we began warming up as I talked.

“Hey, babe, what’s up?”

“This has not been a good weekend.”

“That sucks. What happened?”

“My parents’ concern for my well-being is wearing me thin. And my best friend ditched me this weekend for her new boyfriend. I’d say it was karmic, except I’ve done a good job of juggling to this point. And I lost my checkbook and I need to find it before I come back to school for the week because I need to get a bill in the mail on Monday. And, as much as I said it wasn’t a big deal, you’re not here. So it’s a semi-big deal.”

“I promise when you get back in town I’ll make it up to you. If it makes you feel better, I’ve been missing you, too.”

“I know. What’s that noise I hear?”

“I’m playing pong with Craigers.”

“Okay, I’ll let you go.”

“No, no, I’m doing just fine. Stay with me.”

“Okay,” he laughed. “Where the hell is my checkbook?”

“Um, you left it in your backpack, in one of the front pockets.”

“No, I checked. I distinctly remember taking it out.”

“It’s under your bed.”

“I doubt highly it’s there.”

“Maybe the monster stole it. Just check there.”

“Okay.”

While Chris was checking under the bed, I won four points. “Six – two.”

“What?”

“Nothing, babe, just calling out the score.”

“Oh. Oh, hey, I found a quarter!”

I laughed. “Maybe you can just throw that into the envelope instead of a check.”

“That’s about how much it is, too,” he chuckled sardonically.

“Get off the phone!” Craig yelled, as another forehand blistered past him.

“I’m good, actually. Is it bothering you?”

“Yeah, it’s bothering me that I’m down three – ten to someone on the phone,” he yelled loudly, for emphasis.

“Craig says hi.”

“Tell Craig I love him and I really appreciate him losing.”

I relayed the message to Craig, who shot me the bird.

“Craig says he loves you, too.”

“I didn’t hear anything.”

“He, um, said it with a gesture.”

“I bet.”

“Eleven – five”

“Wow, have you always been able to play table tennis while talking on the phone?”

“I’d say it’s a new-found talent.”

“I’d say it’s annoying,” Craig interjected. Had I not known Craig for so long, I might have thought he was actually angry, but since he only pretends to be competitive about anything, I knew I could keep talking.

“Oh hey, I found my checkbook.”

“Oh good. Where was it?”

“Under the bed.”

“Ha! I told you.”

“I know; I’m still surprised. I bet you drove here, broke into my house, then hid the checkbook this afternoon. Sneaky sneaky.”

“Yes. Yes I did.”

“So what are your plans for the rest of the night?”

“First, I’m going to beat Craig. Then, I’m going to continue whacking my ball with a paddle.”

“I think the Marquis de Sade had parties with that theme.”

“Is that so? Too bad I couldn’t go.”

“Oh yes, quite the shame. What’s the score? I want to know how much longer I get to talk to you.”

“It’s seventeen – eight. We have another couple of minutes. But I want to talk to you again, later, when we’re without distraction.”

“When you’re done whacking off?”

“Yeah, after that.”

“Okay. I’ll be up. Just don’t make it too late.”

“I won’t, I promise. I love you.”

After a couple seconds, Chris responded, “Wow. I love you, too.”

“Was that weird?”

“Only because I’ve always thought that I’d be the first person to say it if I were ever in a relationship where it were true.”

“You’re gonna have to deal with the fact that you found a guy who really, truly, is excited every day that he found you.”

“What a cross to bear.”

“Twenty – ten.”

“Finish it right here. For me.”

I hit probably the fifteenth forehand winner of the match and Craig launched his racket behind him. “Thanks, Chris. I’ll call you later. Glad I could help you find your checkbook.”

“Me too. Bye.”

The guys who were watching the match cheered when I hung up the phone.

“That was awesome, Luke.”

“You might want to talk on the phone every time you play.”

Cory and another friend of mine started to describe the “action” as they saw it, which revolved mostly around my hitting every forehand as hard as I possibly could without realizing it, and moving really well even though I wasn’t using my other hand for balance. I walked over and gave Craig, who was walking back toward us, paddle in hand, a big hug.

“Thanks for letting me slaughter you.”

“You suck.”

“I know.”

He smiled. “Well, as long as you know that, I guess I can continue speaking to you. Though I am going to be cheering for your opponent to win every game you play.”

“I’d expect nothing less. You’re such a good friend.”

Without my phone, I was completely and immediately vincible. I lost my next game, winning only ten points. The gallery cheered when this match finished, too, and they swarmed around me.

“That was amazingly bad!”

“Seriously. You missed, like, everything!”

I was concentrating on the game the second time around, whereas the first time, I was barely keeping score. Maybe there was something to be said for just letting things go as they will and not over-analyzing.

 

[BlueD]

ping pong and the lost checkbook...hum..... wondering what effects they would cause....or any at all in the incoming chapters...
anyway, great chapter! I love the tone of the story!

 

[hardreader]

I'm with BlueD (and who wouldn't want to be with BlueD) on this one. I can't see how the story has advanced, except that it finally includes both ping-pong and a checkbook. OK. OK. They said "I love you." We all know that your story is too well written and your storytelling too well crafted for this to be a throw-away chapter, so . . .

I'll keep coming back to see what you are up to. Thanks, as always.

 

[harry113]

Yeah! As HR said, this must be leading up to something!! I hope!
Thanks, well written, as ever, if a little short on content, Lol.
Please continue
Harry

 

[testudfan]

Hey all! Don't get discouraged; there's more to come. Remember, each section of the story has a specific purpose, whether or not it's immediately apparent. (In this case, it introduces things that will become more meaningful later.) I'm finishing the next part tomorrow. "Professional Development Day" means more time to edit for me!

 

[Oogleman]

excellent read. u have talent.

 

[q45t]

Please don't tell me that your not going to finish the story. I love this story!!!!!

 

[Yamime]

Please don't tell me that your not going to finish the story. I love this story!!!!!

Ahhh, I know, I feel the same way, too! I caught up quicker than I thought I would!

I really am enjoying this story a lot! I really enjoy the stories that take it slow and make the development of the relationship more realistic and believable. The characters are uniquely sculpted, but still with a familiar personality that's never over the top and still believable. The writing style and word choice is superb (and mind boggling). Also, I'm glad you left some of the imagery of the characters left to our imaginations. Most stories hop right in and give detailed descriptions of people, it's like I'm reading some sports' medical report or something. Thanks for the terrific writing style; even though I shouldn't be expecting such on forum-published fiction, I'm glad you have published your work as it makes me feel like I'm actually reading a novel.

My only criticism though is that Luke started calling Chris, "babe." I guess it's just a personal annoyance I have with that word since my cousin and his wife say it all the time, lol. I apologize if this is a stupid thing to say, but I just find cliched pet names weird. I guess this could just be a part of Luke's character?

p.s. I apologize for bumping this thread and getting everyone's hopes up that there could be a new chapter.

 

[gmoney]

I haven't been to this forum in quite some time. I have to say, you have captivated me with your story. It's one of the most well written stories I have ever found here!

I sat here and read from beginning to current in all one setting. (took me several hours).

I hope you have another chapter up soon. I'll make sure I have my dictionary with me too!

Thank you for the time and effort you have put forth. I look forward to the next installment.

 

[Caedmun]

I found this story this afternoon, and ate it up in a single gulp. I hope that you will return to it at some point, as I enjoy these characters very much.