Kyle idly tossed the ball to Stan, who swam ahead, kicking strongly, bumping the big yellow ball ahead of him with his chin. The poor freshman sprinted behind him, trying desperately to catch up with some hope of snatching the ball away. Kyle smiled to himself. Stan wasn't pushing himself to go faster; Stan wasn't pushing himself at all. He could outrace almost anyone in the state. Kyle could do the same; he was faster than Stan was. In fact, he was the only person in the state Stan couldn't out swim. They were the top two 50 meter freestyle swimmers in Colorado, each breaking almost all the freestyle records at this pool and three others. Stan stopped in front of the goalie who was staring wild-eyed at Stan and trying to bring himself to block the shot - with his face if need be. Stan palmed the ball and rose up, hem of his black Speedo visible above the rolling water of the South Park pool. Stan let the ball fly, the ball hitting the back of the goal with a loud thud. The goalie slipped under the water, only to rise back up again a few seconds later, a disappointed and frustrated look on his face. Stan swam back to the center of the pool, smiling stupidly at Kyle. Kyle stuck his tongue out at his Super Best Friend and settled himself, Stan treading water comfortably next to him. The sophomore in front of Kyle gave the ball to the player behind him and swam forward. Kyle barrel-rolled around the kid and sprinted toward the player with the ball, rising up menacingly in front of him and raising his hand to shot-block; the player hefted the ball up and Kyle lunged forward, swinging his arm up and around, bringing it down on the poor player's arm. The ball slipped from his fingers and Kyle was off, strong legs propelling him forward, ball in front of his face. Unlike Stan, Kyle didn't like to hide his true power. The ten yards to the two-meter line disappeared in seconds and the ball was floating lazily in the far corner of the goal. Kyle smiled to himself and swam back to the center. Coach blew on his whistle and called the team over. He was looking at Kyle with an angry sheen in his eye.
"Ha!" Stan joked, "You fucked up!" Kyle laughed sarcastically and pounced on him, the two wrestling playfully in the water. At one point their crotches brushed together, the heat from their bodies raising the water's temperature just a tiny bit. The two sprang apart and paddled sheepishly toward the assembled group. Some of the underclassmen were stifling giggles. Stan and Kyle listened as their coach babbled on about the upcoming game. Stan rolled his eyes and gave Kyle a sidelong glance.
Both the boys had left dry-land sports behind in their sixth grade year. The year-long dusting of snow made football, soccer, or any other field sport unbearable to play. They took to the water, Kyle a little more reluctantly than Stan, joining the district's club swim team and later discovered the joys of water polo in seventh grade. They quickly rose to the top, joining the Junior Olympic team their freshman year and soon getting some national attention. They had scouts coming to every game; colleges with big-name water polo reputations fought tooth-and-claw for them. Stan and Kyle were the best on the team, the glue holding the players together. Stan was their star hole set, Kyle their experienced hole guard. Each game he shut the set down while Stan and the other upperclassman tooled the other team. They usually dominated their opponents, the score a solid twenty to one every time. They had no rivals, only underlings. They were kings.
Practice ended with a fierce full court scrimmage. Stan and Kyle were on opposing sides, each starting the sprint. The pool was deathly silent, tension making the air as thick as butter. Coach blew his mighty whistle, and the two pushed off the wall with great force, trying to get ahead of the other in the race to the center of the pool. Coach dropped the ball into the water; Kyle's hand flew out, scooping the ball close to him just as Stan caught up, crashing down on him without mercy. Kyle managed to flick the ball to his chaser - one of the faster girls on the team, while he freed himself from Stan and swam down the pool, Stan by his side.
"Easy there hotshit," Kyle taunted, "I don't particularly enjoy you raping me." Stan belly-laughed and watched the scrimmage progress. The girl - Sarah - passed to Jon, the only lefty on the team, who passed to Red, who flicked it to the hole set only to have the ball stolen away. Stan started his leisurely swim down the pool to set up offense when Kyle slipped behind him. The Jew caught up to the player with the ball and popped it out of his hand, cupping it in midair and flipping his body around so he could sprint back toward the goal, ball in possession. He heard his teammates yelling, splashes nearby; Stan was hot on his tail. Kyle curved his path of approach and started to swim perpendicular to the goal. He scooped the ball up and lobbed it to the corner of the goal just as Stan swam on top of him.
Kyle rolled onto his stomach as Stan's body covered his, their limbs getting twisted together. Luckily they were in the shallow end; Stan - being the stronger of the two - righted them and helped disentangle their legs. Kyle blushed as his hand passed dangerously close to Stan's package.
Practice ended without further incident, and the team hit the showers. Kyle rubbed shampoo into his curls while Stan rubbed himself down with soap. The harsh light of the locker room glinted off of Stan's wet body, making his already defined muscles that much more impressive. Since he was a spoiled, rebel child, Stan had managed to goad Randy into letting him get a tattoo when he was sixteen. A key wrapped in barbed wire colored the skin above his left hip; the skin art was beautifully done, no doubt expensive, and made Stan seem that much more badass.
Kyle discovered his inner rainbows when he was in fifth grade after falling ass over elbows for the stoic local buttwipe Craig. After hiding his feelings he finally gave up and turned into South Park's closeted homosexual. Not that closeted, however. He had caught Randy in a bit of an intoxicated condition in eighth grade and managed to persuade his friend's tipsy father to sign the papers for a piercing he wanted. He came home proudly, a sterling silver bar pushed through the skin of his bellybutton. Sheila never found out, she thought he had somehow scratched the dimple on her son's stomach, never suspected something more rebellious. Stan had discovered the piercing during one of their sleepovers. He was tickling Kyle silly when he tweaked the cold silver bar. Kyle had moaned wantonly, and quickly slapped his hand over his mouth, face as red as his hair. Stan had laughed and lifted his shirt to check out the jewelry. Ever since the incident the half-hearted gay jokes started.
Kyle later got his collarbones pierced, then his hips. Sheila almost went batshit crazy when she found the two small bars in Kyle's collarbones, but soon got over it once Kyle used some reverse-psychological reasoning on his mother. Now Sheila thought her son's various piercings were the shit.
Kyle padded to his bag and dropped his Speedo. Stan walked by him then, slapping his bare ass with all too much force. Kyle yelped and yelled something incoherent but most likely offensive in Stan's direction. The offender laughed and put up his hands before digging through his bag for his towel. Once the towel was coaxed out Stan also slipped his Speedo from his hips, revealing his beautiful nine-inch circumcised sausage. Kyle glanced over and tried his best not to be obvious about staring at his Super Best Friend's junk. Stan seemed to be unusually perceptive today.
"If you want to lick it that bad," Stan joked, "Go ahead." the brunet winked and shook his hips inviting. Kyle cleared his throat and glared at him. The last of the boys on the team were filing out of the locker room. Kyle slipped his jeans on and fished through his bag for a tank top or something. Stan was still standing there shaking his hips, naked as the day he was born.
"You're gonna give yourself a boner," Kyle said tiredly. Stan raised one eyebrow and wagged his hips faster, harder. Soon his dick was swelling with blood and a lusty, embarrassed flush colored his cheeks.
"Woops," Stan muttered, "Better go take care of this..."
Fuck this… Kyle groaned and dropped the black tank top; he reached for Stan's hand, yanking his naked Super Best Friend to the wall of lockers and pushing him against it. Stan stared at him with wide eyes. Kyle smirked and bent down, sitting on his heels. He grasped Stan's dick, fast enough so Stan couldn't pull away and gave it a few strokes. Stan sucked in a deep breath and Kyle could see his thighs clench. He smiled up at Stan through his eyelashes and licked the tip of his dick. Stan bit his lip as Kyle put his lips around the head of his penis and slowly went down, devious tongue running along the bulging vein running along the underside of Stan's dick. Stan moaned and Kyle hummed pleasantly in response; Kyle bobbed his head, twisting slightly to please Stan just a little bit more.
"I always…had a feeling…you were gay," Stan breathed, knotting his fingers in Kyle's hair. Kyle laughed around Stan's cock and continued sucking, pumping what he couldn't reach. He was actually quite surprised Stan was letting him suck him off. Stan groaned and pushed Kyle's mouth down on his dick, coming in his mouth. Kyle swallowed greedily and licked his Super Best Friend clean. Stan stood there, leaning against the lockers, legs shaking, as Kyle stood up and pulled his black tank top on. Stan stared at his Super Best Friend, flabbergasted and very confused.
"What…the fuck? Just happened?" Stan asked, pushing away from the lockers to snatch his underwear and pants. Kyle smiled at him and yanked on his shoes.
"You got blown, obviously," Kyle muttered. They dressed in silence, Kyle finally lugging his backpack and bag onto his shoulder to wait for Stan. Finally, once the last shoelace was tied, Stan stood up and faced his Super Best Friend. Kyle stared at him, afraid of what he was going to say.
"I think you could've picked a better way to come out of the closet," Stan murmured, a half smile gracing his face. Kyle exhaled and looked into Stan's eyes. "How long?"
He glanced at his Super Best Friend with raised brows.
"How long what?" Kyle asked. Stan rolled his eyes and turned toward the entrance to the locker room.
"I'll text you later," he called to Kyle, disappearing through the door to his car. Kyle stared after him, confused and more than a little pissed off. He clapped a hand to his forehead, hoping he didn't fuck up as much as he thought he did.
His phone vibrated in his pocket. Kyle pulled it out and flipped it open.
We should do that again sometime.