Date: Sat, 5 Feb 2000 19:15:47 -0800 (PST)
From: jockboyz fan <just4funboy@yahoo.com>
Subject: Kent, Chapter One

My college buddy liked to brag.  He's probably told this story far and wide
by now.  If you've heard this, drop me a line at just4funboy@yahoo.com.
I'll be glad to hear from you.

Kent

I managed to get into the evening section of third semester physics.  The
alternative was three days a week of AM classes, which assured that the
night version would be a sold out event.  I'd arrived early for a choice of
seats, and the room was quickly filling up.  Physics was never much of a
place for boy watching, which is why I was so startled to see a genuine
golden stud come through the door.  As he looked around the room for a
seat, I moved my notebook off the chair next to mine.  I looked right at
him.  It worked.

As he took his seat, he offered a quick "Hi."  While the instructor was
covering the usual first day drivel, we chatted a little.  His name was
Kent.  He lived at the frat a block from my dorm.  My guess that he played
baseball was not far off.  Softball it was, not that I could have told
anyone the difference.  He had a ball player's chest and thighs, which is
as much as I cared for the sport.

Over the next several weeks, I'd save him a seat and we'd walk back to our
rooms together most nights.  On rainy nights he'd have his car, which to my
disappointment he packed as full as he could.  We did not have much in
common, other than two classes in which he was gradually getting behind.
One evening I took a small chance with this connection.  I noted that the
mid term was next week, and that this week's lecture had been a desperate
dash to catch up with the syllabus.

"It's a lot of material, but I think I've got the most of it down," I said
calmly.  Without a response, I dug a little more.  "Are you getting it?
Can I help?"  I'd seen his latest quiz come back.  He was not getting it.
We'd arrived at his driveway.

"Would you mind?" he asked.  "I missed a day last week.  Do you have those
notes?"  We spent about an hour in the main downstairs room of his frat.  I
sat across a plain wooden table from him.  One of his housemates, stuck
with the morning session, listened in as I gave my prediction of what would
be on the midterm.

The test came and went.  He did okay, and thanked me for pointing his nose
into the book.  He missed a class again the following Friday, and I
recalled him saying something about an away game.

Sometime the next week, I asked him if he'd like the notes from the class
he missed.

"Already got them."  My mood sank.  His morning class housemate, Derek, had
come through for him.  I bounced right back to the top of the world with
his next remark.  "Want to stop by the house for a beer tonight?"

I tried not to go overboard with my acceptance.  "Sure.  That's the nicest
offer I have had in a while."  It was true.  I'd decided once and for all
that I was gay and I might as well get more serious about it.  I'd played
around some with trusted friends, but never really cruised anyone before
meeting Kent.  He was pure hot in my book.  He had a stocky build, muscular
but a keg or two away from being ripped and lean.  He was fair and blond,
except for a trace of red in his end of the day beard.  His broad forearms,
bare even in cool weather, wore a nice coat of fine blond hair.  I found
myself staring at them, at how the muscles in his forearms rolled as he
wrote and moved around.  He had piercing green eyes, and a face that might
not land him in the movies but could certainly lure him a date any night of
the week.  More than anything, though, I admired how he filled his jeans.
Everything below his belt radiated his physical strength.  The way his ass
formed his jeans made it all look rock solid.  His thighs, for lack of a
more flattering word, were huge.  They were truly massive, and again looked
hard as stone under stretched out denim.

And now he was handing me a beer.  I raised it to my lips and felt the
smooth lip of the bottle.  I nearly dropped the damn thing.  I was nervous
with the same kind of indefinite anxiety that won't let you sleep when you
need to the most.  The kitchen was crowded and noisy.  Some of the guys
were having a late dinner, or maybe were just still eating.  This
fraternity had a reputation of attracting jocks and hard partiers.  The
jocks had clearly taken the kitchen.  One of his buddies belched an obscene
greeting at him.

"Up yours!  Come on, let's go up to my room and let the animals eat in
peace."  Fine with me.

"We got our new uniforms today." He pointed to a lump of clothes on the
bed.  It was much like the lump of clothes spilling out of the cracked
plastic hamper, awkwardly sitting in the middle of the room.  The room was
a disaster.  I'm no housekeeper, but this place was some sort of work in
progress for an art class.  The upstairs of the frat, for that matter, was
less than the main floor or the exterior suggested it might be.  The
maintenance seemed to be confined to layering on more paint, which I'm sure
the pledges obediently did each fall.  The occasional shoe mark on a wall
or door testified to some wild parties since then.

"I've got to get this tried on tonight.  I can exchange it in the morning
if it doesn't fit," Kent explained.

I waved my beer at him for a go-ahead, pretending to have a mouthful
preventing a more formal answer.  In fact, I didn't dare answer.  What
would I say?  I liked how the show was going so far, so just kept quiet.

He had a bathroom that seemed to be shared with the adjacent room.  He
closed the door and locked it, which seemed to be the only way to shut it
at all.  I was starting to like this very, very much.  A private show!  I
reached over and brushed the hallway door closed as I piled into a worn red
lounge chair.  I looked up for the lock, but there wasn't one.

He kicked off his shoes and said, "Don't worry about it.  Nobody here opens
a closed door."  He stepped around the hamper, flipping on the radio and
turning it up a little too much.  He stopped just off to my left.  I
watched his hands as he popped his belt buckle and peeled down his jeans.
They did not surrender his thighs easily.  Briefs.  I was speculating from
time to time, and got it right. He wore plain white no-name briefs.  Good
to know.  This was a spanking new pair.

He did not look at me as he stripped, but he didn't need to.  I was staring
shamelessly at the hairs on his legs, at the elastic on his briefs, and at
everything else I'd only imagined before.  What a treat this was.  He then
stood upright and faced square at me, in just briefs and socks.

"What do you think?  Summer uniforms."

I couldn't stand it.  He was teasing me more than ever.  In a flash, I
remembered all his little playful comments about "holding his seat for him"
and not being an "athletic supporter."

"You've finally found a way to get me to buy a season ticket."  I said as I
deliberately checked him out from head to foot and halfway back up again.
"Can I get a locker room pass with that?"  I stared him square in the
crotch.  I felt him checking out my gaze.  He brushed off his bulge, though
my attention was already there.

The only question now was who wanted it more.  Who would make the big move?
He shifted a little to the side, as if to say that was as far as he'd come.
I slid off the chair and landed on my knees before him.  His basket was
like a magnet to me.  He packed his dick right down the center, hiding any
definite clue about his length for later discovery.  A swath of sandy
colored hair trailed down from navel, widening considerably before diving
below the elastic of his briefs.  His thighs, those adorable thighs, were
liberally peppered with curly hair as if it were spilling out of his
overstuffed briefs.  I wanted him to turn around, but figured we'd get to
that.

"Only our most devoted fans get passes.  Now show me how much you love the
team."  Kent cracked a broad smile, the one that made me melt.

Fuck the team, I thought.  I'm alone with the biggest bat I've ever swung.
In truth, I loved the line.  It wasn't for the words.  It was the demanding
way he said it and the fact that he still made me make the move.  He was
clearly into the fact that I would be servicing him.  He wanted me to ask
for it.

I rolled his briefs down, pausing for a moment when just his pubic bush was
exposed.  I could see a thinner spot of hair at the root of his shaft, as
it parted from his fine torso.  My fingers ran back along the elastic band
of his briefs, hooked over them, and began to pull them over his smooth,
firm ass.  At that moment he pushed my head forward, causing me to dive,
face first, into his bulge.  As my nose buried into his basket, I opened my
mouth to breathe.  My pulse quickened.

"Suck it.  Suck my shorts!"  He said it slowly, savoring the words.  I took
as much of his basket as I could into my mouth.  The feel of the dry cotton
on my lips and tongue made me burn with sexual energy.  I was now more
eager to satisfy him than I'd ever been even in my dreams.  I felt like I'd
been taken over by a side of me left waiting alone until now.

After a minute of working his briefs with my lips, I followed his
instructions to remove his shorts.  I rolled them down to his feet, and
held them there as he stepped out of them and around to one side again.  I
was kneeling at his side, with his cock, now fully hard, in front of my
face.  It was a beauty.  I didn't know what eight inches would look like,
but this must be it.  I had a generous six, nothing to be ashamed of in the
shower, but here was a stud cock.  More impressive was the width.  His
prick was more like a flattened oval than round, noticeably more wide than
thick.  I caught sight of a small hair stuck to the uneven skin marking his
circumcision and wondered if I'd feel it in my mouth.

He grabbed both my shoulders and led me over to face him head on.  Dropping
his hands away, he stood there for a few long seconds, with his dick just
short of touching my lips.  "Open up!" he said, as if handing out cough
syrup.  The next ten minutes went by in a flash.  I ate his rod with real
passion, both licking his dickhead with my tongue and sucking as much of
his member as I could take in with as much force as I could deliver.
Sometimes he would run a hand to the back of my head and hold me in or out,
or move me at the speed he liked.

I loved this.  I fantasized for years about just such a face fuck, though
Kent's obvious pleasure with my service had been missing from my dreams.
This was more than about what I was doing and feeling, which drove my
fantasies.  This was turning him on in a big way as well, making the real
act crush the potency of the imagined.

Unfortunately, I was sucking myself out of work.  His breathing has become
heavier and more deliberate.  He pulled out of my mouth and tilted my head
back.  His heavy cock flopped onto my face.  Its heat and its weight
captivated me.  It covered my face.  Kent's meat ran from my chin to my
eyebrows.  His balls hung below my chin.

"Lick the nuts."  His voice was a touch higher than before, less
commanding, and more driven by desire.  I spent a few minutes bringing one
testicle, then the other, into my mouth.  There was no way to get both
fully inside.  As I worked his balls, he stroked his shaft.  He worked
slowly from the base to the head, and then rapidly back.  I held his balls
with my lips to spare them from bouncing around, and felt them draw up,
tighter and more closely to his body.

He pushed me back a bit.  "Shut your eyes," he grunted.  There was no
chance of that.  I stared him right in the face.  He looked down as his
dick exploded.  The first shot went over my head.  The second spurt, larger
but less forceful, creamed onto my right cheek.  Afterwards a cascade of
spurts and dribbles drained onto my face, drenching my nose and lips.  I
let my lips part slightly and secretly tasted his sperm.

He let out a hoot of sorts and rotated his shoulders.  He looked down at my
cum-covered face.  I shut my eyes for him.  For the next minute or two, I
felt him running his cock up and down my face.  He smeared his jism around
until it was too dry and sticky to spread any more.  He pulled my head
towards him, but I turned away.  He pressed his softening shaft against my
face and held me there for a few moments.

"Okay.  You're in."  He nearly whispered it.  I had no idea what he was
talking about until later, when I wondered if he was serious.  Would I
really be visiting him and his teammates after a practice?  How would that
be explained?  He stepped away and threw me a towel.  I let it drop and
picked up his briefs.

"These will do."  I said as I mopped my face.

"Don't think so, buddy.  Get in here."  Came the answer from the bathroom.
I spent a good five minutes cleaning my face and hair as he watched from
behind me.  I didn't even think until I was out the back door that I had
not shot my own load.  My dorm room was four minutes away. I ran and got
there in half that.  I locked the door to my room and dove onto the bed.
My roommate was out.  I whipped out my own meat and pumped it to success.
With every hormone I had on a rampage, I shot to the wall.  I found the
blotches of cum and watched them slowly run down towards the blanket.  Not
bothering with a towel, I collapsed into a deep sleep.

In the morning I checked out his window, which I could see from mine.
Nobody was there.

There was no beer the next week.  He was struggling to keep up both his
practice and studies, and managing with no time left over.  The following
Monday he invited me up to his room.  We grabbed the usual from the fridge.
The kitchen was crowded, but less rowdy tonight.  I recognized Derek, who
greeted me by name this time.

We went upstairs and I slumped into my favorite chair.  The room was a
little better off now, with at least the clothes put away and that stupid
hamper back in the closet.  I went to put my beer on the tiny lamp stand.
An envelope was there.

"Pictures from your Ohio game?"  I asked with more interest than I really
had in his away game from last weekend.

"No!"  He chirped the rebuttal so clearly that I studied his face for a
clue.  How far off was I?

I was still looking at him as I slid the stack of photos out of their
envelope and into my open palm.  As I glanced at the stack, I felt my chest
muscles tighten.  My breath became shallow and forced.  There was a picture
of his ass, with his briefs caught half way down.  His legs.  My blue
sweatshirt.  He had pictures from the night I went down on him!  My stomach
tightened up into a knot so hard that I must have leaned forward.

I did not need to look for where the camera had been.  The door to his
closet had a few slats missing.  The photo was more of a strip than a full
frame, shot through one of these windows on the action.  How could I have
been so stupid!  I realized that he had me by the balls with these.  I
tried to swallow, but there my mouth was too dry for it to work.  The back
of my throat just closed up and stuck there for a second.

Did I want to see any more?  I knew how it went.  The images in my mind
were as vivid as those on the paper in my hand.  I flipped forward to the
next shot.  This one really said it all.  He'd turned a bit so he was in
profile, and had steered my head with his hand so that I was facing into
the camera.  The shot framed him from the waist down.  His erect prick,
curving slightly upwards, obscured part of my lips and the end of my nose.
I had my eyes fully open, and my arms resting at my side.  I was kneeling
in front of him, with my knees spread wide apart so that my mouth was at
the level of his meat.

I was frozen, and barely breathing.  I was hardly conscious of him, drawn
completely into the photos.  By the third picture, I had moved back to
facing him.  He had slyly maneuvered me around for the benefit of the
camera.  I had parted my lips, inviting him to penetrate my mouth.  His
head was just short of entering me, and fully hard and proud of its new
conquest.  In the next few images, he was in various stages of fucking my
mouth.  In one, I'd had my eyes closed and my cheeks pulled in as I treated
him to a hard suck.  Again, his hand away from the camera was wrapped
around the back of my head.  This left no doubt about who was driving.  In
more of the suck shots I had my eyes open, and was looking at his chest, or
waist, or most of the time right ahead at his nest of pubic hair.

I'd gone through only a quarter of the stack before getting to where he'd
pulled out and started rolling his glistening cock over my face.  These
photos were framed a little higher.  His face was just breaking the top of
the print, but enough so to show his lips pursed as if exhaling in a hard
blast.  His balls rested below my chin, with his shaft running to my
eyebrows.  I was looking right into his face.

By now I was breathing normally again, but was still unable to swallow.  My
stomach jumped now and then, perhaps hardest when I turned to the next
image.  This was the picture that said it all.  Cum streaked down my
cheeks.  A strand of it stretched from the tip of his dick to my
cum-drenched nose.  Being caught on film sucking dick was bad enough, but
seeing myself wearing a load of jism made me weak.  On top of it, my tongue
was starting to venture out for a taste.  I flipped forward to a shot of
his cum painted over most of my face, his hand again on my head with his
softening dick beside my cheeks.  I remembered how he held me in this
position, giving his camera buddy the chance to zoom in and frame the shot
as best he could.

As I moved on to the next photo, I was relieved to see his ass again.

"I got doubles."  He said, snapping me back to the present.  "Hot, aren't
they?"

For a minute I could not answer.  I didn't know what to say.  I had no idea
how I felt. At the same moment I hated him and found him sexier than ever.
I was scared too.  Sure, they were hot.  As anyone could see, I enjoyed my
evening.  But I felt betrayed by the fact that he had these photos and had
showed them around, maybe to some guys I knew.  Certainly Derek had seen
them, given his warmer than normal greeting.

"How many guys have seen these?"  I asked with an edge to my voice.  The
anger was winning.  "Ten?  Twenty?"

"Twenty here at the frat, plus about a dozen who came here from Indiana
last weekend's game."  He had dropped onto the bed, and stretched out his
legs as he said it.  I didn't need to reply.  I've only had them three
days."  I was still speechless.

"Derek had the idea."  He continued without prompting.  "He bet me that if
I could get you up here and drop my pants, you'd suck me to orgasm.  He was
right.  They're actually his photos.  He's the one who has shown them off,
except for the few I showed some selected teammates."

"You do this from time to time, I take it."  I'd sunk a little deeper into
the chair and taken a big swig off the beer.

"Not me, but another guy here did it last fall.  He got one of the pledges
to take a fuck.  These are better photos, though.  His face was never clear
like yours is, and we never saw any cum since he shot it up the guy's ass.
I think the wet shot is my favorite.  You're totally creamed over."  He'd
been flipping through the photos rapidly, settling on his choice. He looked
at me for a moment, and for the first time I would not look at him.

"Are you okay?  Don't barf in here."  Kent was spread out as he said this,
as if he expected a second round.

I got up, and I left.  The next week I avoided him, and he didn't make any
special effort to see me.  I didn't find myself cruising him at all.  I
took a different way back.

Towards the end of the semester, a letter came.  I tore it open in the dorm
lobby and flopped onto one of the dismal hard couches.  Out came a shower
of tiny brownish gold plastic strips.  It was film, or at least had been.
Deeper, stuck in the envelope was a set of prints.  Here was Kent, lying in
the grass and wearing nothing but a big smile and a semi-hard on in one,
adding a catcher's mitt and squatting behind home plate in another.  A
third had him posing in the locker room, while in the next he was soaped up
in the shower and hard as a rock.  The last photo was a close up of his
cock, with a trail of cum going up his chest.  To the back of this was
taped an index card.

Locker Room Pass Select Players and Their Best Fans Only No Cameras

Following was an apartment address and a date.  I trotted off to my room
and called him to say I'd be there.

"Great!"  He sounded quite pleased.  "Are we even now?'

"We can square that off at the party.  You know what you need to do." I
left it at that and hung up.  We'll see.