Your first drink!

The music has settled into something steadier now, a low rhythmic pulse that hums through the patio like a second heartbeat. Laughter drifts easily between people, the kind that doesn’t feel **** yet, just warm and anticipatory.

You’re still hyper aware of yourself, of how the sun warms your pale, naked shoulders and how the tight fabric presses against your thighs whenever you shift or move.

After a few minutes of getting used to the situation, Sarah reappears carrying a tray of drinks, colorful glasses catching the light. Ice clinks softly as she weaves between lounge chairs, placing one in front of Trent, then Dior, then Taylor and Justin, giving him a small peck on his cheek.

When she reaches you and Jamal, she pauses just long enough to give you a kind smile. “I think, this one fits you best,” she says, placing a glass into your hand before you can even protest. The glas is cold, and the drink smells sharp and citrusy, something darker underneath it. You just stare at it, not sure what to do with the ****.

“Oh,” you say quietly. “I, uh… I don’t really...”

“Drink?” Taylor, who is still near you, finishes your sentance, eyebrows lifting. “Like, ever?”

You shake your head, suddenly feeling like you’ve admitted something very personal. Jamal’s voice cuts in smoothly from beside you. “Relax Emile. It’s not gonna kill you.”

You glance up at him, he’s now holding his own drink, leaning back against the counter, posture easy, his naked dark skin is almost glowing under the afternoons sun light, and his eyes are on you. There’s no pressure in his tone, just confidence, maybe expectation?

“It’ll help you loosen up,” Sarah adds lightly. “You know, first BSA party and all that.”

Dior, who just came up behind Taylor and almost completely overshadowing him, chuckles. “Yeah, man. Consider it a rite of passage.” You hesitate, fingers tightening slightly around the glass and your heart is beating faster than it should over something so simple.

Jamal tilts his head. “You don’t have to of course,” he says, quieter now. “But, hey, you might like it.”

That’s what does it, you lift the glass and take your first small sip. The taste hits your tongue, sharp at first, bitter and cold, then smoother as it settles. There’s sweetness there too, lingering longer than you expect and it makes your throat warm on the way down.

You blink, “…Okay, that wasn't that bad.”

Taylor grins. “Told you bro.”

Sarah beams. “Careful E, that one sneaks up on you.”

You take another sip, slightly bigger this time, the warmth spreads faster now, loosening something tight in your chest, and it makes the noise around you feels a little softer, less overwhelming.

Jamal watches you over the rim of his sunglasses, eyes unreadable.

“See?” he says. “You’re fine.”

You realize you’re smiling, “Yeah,” you admit. “I think I am.”

Someone, probably Sarah, turns the music up a notch. The bass vibrates faintly through the stone beneath your feet. Dior gestures toward the pool with his drink.

“Alright,” he says. “Who’s breaking this baby, in?”

Taylor doesn’t even hesitate. “I’m definitely in, I need to cool down a bit.” he says as he fondles his crotch, which still shows this strange angular shape.

But your stomach flips when Jamal looks at you.

“You coming?” he asks in his deep voice, like always it sounds friendly and encouraging. You glance at the water, bright, blue, inviting, then back at your glass. There’s a light buzz in your head now, a kind of pleasant floatiness.

“Yeah,” you say, surprising yourself. “Okay, sure, what could go wrong...”

The four of you head toward the edge. Taylor goes first, jumping into the water with a splash and a laugh. You hesitate only a second longer before stepping down the shallow end stairs.

The water is cool, shocking at first, then it quickly starts to feel good.

But it soaks the fabric of your tight swimwear almost instantly. You feel it beginning to cling even tighter, heavier too, molding to your thick shape in a way that makes your breath catch. When you move, you feel every curve, every shift, hopefully the others won't notice.

Jamal enters last, smooth and unhurried. Water beads on his skin, catching the light as he moves closer to you. The wet fabric of his trunks darkens, clinging to his body, outlining muscle and shape in a way that makes it hard not to look. You can now definitely see the clear outline of his dick, it looks thick, and it seems like its long enough to hanging down the left trunk leg.

You quickly look anyway, in hopes that no one notices. Taylor notices though, smirks, then pushes off the pool wall. “Damn,” he says casually, “I know that mesmerized look" he wispers to you, "I had the same one, when I saw a black man in his full glory for the first time.” you look at him confused, “what?” you ask, not sure if you fully understand what he meant by that.

“What I mean by that is, that water really does everyone favors, especially someone like Jamal, huh?”

You laugh, a little breathless, the sound coming easier than before.

“Whatever that's suppose to mean.” You deflect, but Taylor is right, Jamal really looks incredibly good in this, and his trunks hide nothing. You feel your own member slightly start to grow, but since yiu really aren't that big, nothing is showing yet.

You don't know why you would react like this, but the more time you spend with Jamal and the other men, the more you question if you are really compleately straight...

When Jamal reaches the two of you, he casually leans back against the pool edge, arms spread wide, showing the defined muscles in them, the water lapping at his well build sides. He looks completely at ease, eyes moving between you and the others, tracking reactions, glances, but his attention always keeps drifting back to you.

Taylor joins Dior on the other side of this giant pool, kissing the black football player as he reaches him, leaving you and Jamal alone on this side.

“Still nervous?” he eventually asks. You surprisingly shake your head.

“No,” you say honestly. “Not really,.. I think.”

The drink warms you from the inside, the water holds you up and the music hums around you.

For the first time since you arrived at this place, you’re not thinking about how you look, you’re just there.

Laughing and floating, not minding being watched that much, even liking it more than you’re maybe ready to admit.

The water settles after a while, ripples smoothing out as some of the others come in the pool. The music feels louder from here, bouncing off stone and water, the bass vibrating faintly through your pale chest.

You’re leaning against the pool edge now, besides Jamal, lazily watching the others, elbows hooked over the side, shoulders half out of the water. Your drink sits nearby, condensation melting into a small puddle on the stone. You reach for it without really thinking and take another sip and then another. Your head feels light, warm and loose in a way you’re not used to.

You watch Trent slipping into the pool with no rush at all. He steps down the stairs slowly, like he knows exactly how many eyes are on him and wants to give them time to adjust. The water climbs his black thighs, his hips, slicking over dark skin that gleams under the sun. Similarly to Jamal, he too does have a very sizable bulge in his trunks, which now are wet, and start to hide nothing. Judging by the smirk on his face, he loves everyone watching and seeing how well he fills out his pants.

When the man finally pushes off and swims a short, lazy lap, it’s obvious he’s done this a thousand times, every movement is controlled, efficient and confident.

When he reaches the wall near you, he braces one arm against the edge and lifts himself just enough that water runs down his smooth chest and well build shoulders. He turns his head toward you, close enough now that you can see the way his smile curves.

“Damn,” he says casually, voice low. “You look even better shen you are wet.”

You blink, laugh softly, not sure how to respond. “It’s… just water.”

He hums like that amuses him, but his gaze doesn’t waver.

“Trust me,” he says. “It’s doing a lot.”

You feel your face warm, but the buzz in your head makes it easier to shrug it off. “You say that like you’re an expert.”

Trent grins. “have you seen me? Of course I am.”

He shifts closer, not crowding you, just existing confidently in your space. As he does, his hand briefly brushes along your side, not grabbing the flesh there, or lingering too long, just enough of a contact to make you very aware of where you end and he begins.

“You got a perfect build for a white boy,” he adds. “Strong at places and so curvy in all the right ways. I like that!”

Your stomach flips.

You open your mouth to reply, but before you can, Jamal’s voice cuts in smoothly from your other side.

“Careful,” he says, drifting closer to you. “You’re gonna give him a big head.”

Trent chuckles, eyes flicking to Jamal for the first time. There’s something unspoken in the look they share, not hostile, not friendly either, maybe measuring or Testing.

“I’m just appreciating a well build white boy,” Trent replies easily. “You should try it sometime. They like it too, right?” he directs that at you, your face is too red to give a good answer to that.

On one side it's nice to hear compliments like that, on the other side it feels like he reduces you to just your body. But maybe that's okay for today? Turning off your brain for just one party won't hurt right? For now you just stay silent and watch the interaction thats going on, between these two strong men.

Jamal smiles, but it’s different than before, sharper. He rests his arm along the pool edge behind you, not touching your skin, but close enough that you feel his presence there.

“Oh, I assure you, I do,” he says. “Plenty.”

You’re suddenly very aware of being between them and you are decidedly smaller too, so the two of them tower above you.

You shift slightly, water lapping higher against your chest. The soaked fabric clings tighter now, heavy and molded, and when you move, you feel the way your body responds to the water’s resistance.

After a moment, Taylor swims by, laughing. “Okay, wow,” he says, glancing between the three of you. “Is it just me or is it getting intense over here?”

You laugh, a little louder than you mean to. “You’re imagining things.”

Trent’s eyebrow lifts. “Is he?”

The black man then pushes off the wall and swims another lap, faster this time and cleaner, if you didn't know better, it seemed like he wants to show off. When he surfaces again, he runs a hand through his thick dark hair, water spraying and his muscles flexing without effort.

“Swimmer’s perks,” he says lightly, when he sees you stare at him closely, “Body learns how to move.”

Jamal watches him for a second too long before turning his attention back to you.

“You doing okay?” he asks, voice quieter now.

You nod, smiling. “Yeah, Jamal, I feel… good.”

You reach for your drink again and take a longer sip, the bitterness barely registers now, the glas by now is almost empty and a strange ease settling into your limbs.

“Maybe slow down a bit,” Jamal murmurs, but you grin at him. “You sound worried.”

He exhales a short laugh. “Maybe I am.”

Trent overhears, smirking as he leans back against the edge besides you. “Let him have fun,” he says. “don't you see, the white boy is glowing.”

You blink. “I am not.”

“You are,” Taylor, who still lingers around you, to watch the interaction, says immediately. “Like… noticeably.”

Heat spreads through your chest, but you don’t shrink from it this time. You stretch your arms out along the pool edge, shoulders rolling back without realizing it, your posture opening.

For some reason the attention doesn’t scare you anymore, in a way It kind of fuels you.

And as the sun shifts overhead and laughter rolls through the patio, you don’t notice the way Jamal’s jaw tightens just slightly every time Trent keeps finding excuses to drift a little closer to you. You just feel warm, watched and in a way even wanted.

And as you hear new guests arriving, you realize that the party is only just getting started.