Water Polo Balls, Part 1a

[Swimmboy]

Here is the first part of a story I wrote and posted to another web site about 6 years ago. It is quite a lengthy story, so I will have to split it into several sections to post it on this board. Hope some of you might enjoy it.

Water Polo Balls – Pt. 1, by swimmboy4@aol.com

This story involves sexual contact between young males. If such stories are not appealing to you, or it is illegal to read such material in your jurisdiction, please do not continue reading.


His balls were beginning to ache and throb, but with barely two minutes left in the game, Derek tried to ignore the pain and make it to the end. The filthy bastard had delivered a nasty punch to his exposed nuts, but as usual, no ref caught sight of the vicious foul. No big surprise there – probably 90% of fouls in water polo went undetected by the refs, whose underwater vision was pretty much non-existent. Derek’s team held a comfortable 9-5 lead, so there was no fear of losing at this point. The low blow was probably a matter of pure anger and frustration on the part of his opponent, rather than an attempt to take Derek out of the game at this late stage. Still, Derek’s seventeen-year-old body was full of rage, and he swore vengeance on the dude – he would swim after him and give him a taste of his own medicine – just as soon as the wave of nausea passed.
Hardwood Academy, located in the hills above a fairly large city in the southeastern U.S., was known throughout the country as a powerhouse in aquatic sports, and had the home-team advantage in this meet. With an enrollment of some 600 9th-12th graders, the campus was a teeming cauldron of jock-boy testosterone. Academically rigorous, the school had an excellent reputation for producing students gifted both mentally and physically. Derek Weathers knew he was part of an elite group – boys from good families, who grew up in comfortable to wealthy neighborhoods, and who were fortunate enough to attend one of the finest private schools in the country. The swimming team was nationally ranked among private schools, usually in the top ten. Numerous guys from Hardwood Hornet teams were now swimming in colleges throughout the SEC, the ACC, and a couple Big Ten schools, as well as other, lesser-known institutions. Many divers were also now attending top-flight schools, and one current Hardwood diver – David Sanderson – was rumored to be a contender for the 2008 Olympic team, though 2012 seemed more realistic to those who closely followed the sport.
Water polo – well, that was another story. While both private and public schools in California, where Derek was from, sported enormous polo teams, most schools back east did not. Kids there barely knew what polo was, although Hardwood had accumulated a small but dedicated group of enthusiasts who were determined to add a water polo trophy or two to the collection of swimming and diving awards proudly displayed in the school lobby. And Derek was planning to be a part of this new legacy, but first, there was a little matter of revenge he needed to take care of.
With barely 1:20 left to play, the visiting team had called a time out, and Derek seethed to see his nemesis climb out of the water and head toward their bench. “Damn it,” he thought, “when the hell will I get a chance for payback?” As he slowly swam over to his position, ready to resume play, he was surprised to find himself confronted by a fresh-faced little scrub, waving his arms and hands in Derek’s face, trying to block any attempted pass one of Derek’s Hornet teammates might send his way. Derek was a scoring machine, and his opponents knew it. Once he had the ball, there was a good chance it would be sailing or skipping over the water and into the net at the back of the goal. Therefore, other teams did everything within their power to isolate him, block him, tie him up, even pound his nuts – anything to take him out of his game plan. Usually, he could sweep around, under, or even over his opponent, get the ball, and make a score. But even the invincible Derek was no match for a well-placed kick or punch to the genitals. And he knew the kicks and punches would keep coming, for Derek also knew he was, as one of his teammates had said, ‘well endowed.’
He knew it to be true, and was damn proud of his large manhood. Yeah, he’d checked out other dudes in the locker room – the showers – and knew he was bigger than most. He also knew this made his privates a tempting target for his opponents. Derek wore two Speedo suits, as did most polo players. Why? They all did it for the same reason: polo was a rough sport, and it wasn’t unusual to have your opponent try to strip your suit down your thighs, either to entangle your legs, or to embarrass the hell out of you and snatch the ball away while you desperately struggled to cover yourself. But Derek had an extra concern – despite two layers of tight nylon, his suit bulged noticeably at his groin, and this drew the unwanted attention of any guy he went up against. While most players were decent enough, there were quite a few dirty players who would seize any chance to one-up his foe, and a well-placed sneak punch or kick to a sensitive spot like the gonads would certainly do the job. Derek had endured such abuse for nearly three years, but now, as a senior, he’d had enough. Even if it led to his ejection from a game, he swore this was the year he would get even with his tormentors.
Now, as the clock ticked down under one minute, Derek feinted left, then right, in an attempt to sneak past the punk. But the tenacious little guy hung with him – not surprising since the kid was fresh off the bench, while Derek had played nearly the whole game and was getting somewhat winded. Spinning quickly to his right again, Derek made a lunge, but the kid spun with him, swimming even, kicking furiously. Derek cut back, twisted again, and was reaching to catch the ball hurtling his way, when --- oomph! --- the kid cut right, while landing a swift, powerful kick right into Derek’s still-aching testicles. As Derek suddenly felt woozy with pain, his arms dropped weakly to the water, then he cupped himself in a futile attempt to protect his boys from any further damage. He cursed the kid aloud as the ball sailed beyond him and out of bounds. Catching his breath, and with fury in his eyes, Derek glanced in the direction he’d seen the kid swimming moments before – but the water was empty. He would kill him – or at least beat the shit out of him, Derek had decided. “Where did he go? Where the fu…” Derek suddenly realized he was not alone – an arm had reached around his back and was leading him toward the side of the pool a few feet away. The pain had brought tears to his eyes, but blinking through them, Derek made out the face of the kid – the little punk who’d just kicked him – but instead of seeing a face gloating with superiority, he only saw worry and concern.

“Did…did I kick you…in the…well, in the balls?” came the plaintive question. “Man, I am SO sorry. I was trying to swim around you, when you suddenly turned and I felt my foot hit your thigh, and then something, well, not as hard as your thigh, and when I saw your reaction, I knew where my kick had landed. Dude, I am really, really sorry.”

Derek was stunned – was this kid for real? Was he apologizing? And taking himself out of play to help the ‘wounded’ foe get to the side of the pool? The refs had requested substitute players for the last few seconds, and Hardwood held onto its 9-5 lead as the buzzer sounded. Derek, still shocked by the kid’s kindness, allowed the smaller boy to assist him to the side, and his anger quickly faded when the boy asked him what he could do to help him. “Can I get some ice?” “Should I ask your coach to come over?” What can I do?”

“I…I just need to…to catch my breath and wait the pain out,” Derek managed to say through clenched teeth, his mind still reeling with confusion over his opponent’s obvious concern. Was this guy for real? Was the kid really helping him out of the water and up onto the deck? Derek glanced toward his own team’s bleachers and saw two of his teammates – Jake and Devon – hurrying toward him, anger clouding their faces.

“Are you OK?” they yelled in unison as they approached. “Did this little shit just nail your nuts to the wall?” asked Jake, as he reached the edge of the pool, his large, muscular body towering over their smaller foe. “Yeah, did he kick you in the family jewels? We saw it! We know he did,” said Devon, as he gave the smaller kid a nasty shove that sent the boy staggering back several steps.

“Dev, Jake – it’s OK,” muttered Derek. “He did score a perfect hit on my boys, just as you said. But for the first time in recorded history, I believe it was an accident. He’s been apologizing all over the place – even helped me to the side of the pool.” Derek smiled weakly at the two arrivals, and, despite his pain, found himself grinning at the change in expressions sweeping across his friends’ faces.

“Uh…uh…apologizing?” was all Jake could utter, while Devon expressed shock at this turn of events. “You mean he didn’t do it on purpose, Derek? How do you know – I think he’s lying, the little shit. I say get him now!”

“No, no guys, it’s OK. I really believe it was an accident – at least this time,” responded Derek, as his friends’ anger cooled. “What’s your name, man?” he asked the kid, who now stood back several feet, not sure whether to stay or flee.

“Um…my name is Kirk. And I am really sorry I kicked you, especially, well, you know, WHERE I kicked you. I honestly didn’t mean to do that.” Looking Kirk square in the eyes, Derek knew the kid – Derek judged him to be maybe 15 or 16 at most – was being honest, and that the kick wasn’t intentional.