Date: Sun, 23 Sep 2001 17:03:02 EDT
From: MaineBoyXY@aol.com
Subject: Student Orientation

Disclaimer and Legal Stuff: Don't read this if you're not supposed to,
either because you live in a regressive community or you don't like erotic
stories about gay sex (in which case, why are you here?).  If you
distribute this story, that's fine, just don't edit it, and leave my name
on it.  Thanks.


                              Student Orientation
                                       By
                               MaineBoyXY@aol.com


I felt like a drowned rat, as I stood under the cascading water in the
dorm shower.  The cold water matted my clothes to my body, and water
poured off my hair down into the collar of my shirt.  I reached up and
turned the water off.  I stepped out of the door-less stall into the
tiled corridor, making my way out of the bathroom.  My feet squished into
my waterlogged shoes with each step.  I went back down the hall to my
room, and looked for something to use to blot myself dry.  I knew there
wasn't anything there, I'd only carried in one box -- desk stuff.
Soaking and dripping, I left the room, descended the three flights of
stairs at the end of the hall, and walked out of the dorm.

It was two days before new student orientation.  The campus had looked
deserted as I had driven through; I guess most kids were waiting until
the last minute to move in.  There were a few cars in my parking lot, but
no one to be seen.  It was actually a great day for moving, not like the
day I'd toured the campus almost a year ago with my parents.  It had
been hot and sticky then, and no matter how inert a person was, he
perspired.  There was almost no humidity now, rare for August in this
part of the country, and a gentle breeze blew.  I lifted a box out of the
trunk of my car and headed towards the quad.  Three Georgian-style dorm
buildings squared off against the parking lot, with a wide grassy area
between the trees lining the sidewalk along the two buildings
perpendicular to it.  They were some kind of shade trees, elms or
something, that looked like they'd been there since God was a boy.

When I'd gotten halfway up the parking lot, I heard voices and looked up
to see two guys walk out into the sun from the shade on the right.  One
carried a Frisbee, but I couldn't take my eyes off the other.  He was
tall, over six feet, and had shaggy blond hair.  It could have been a
surfer cut, if it hadn't gone out of style almost a decade earlier.  The
sides and back were only a little longer than average, but the bangs
easily reached his eyebrows.  He was thin, but not scrawny, the sort of
build you get when you're active with walking and biking and playing
sports, but you don't actually work out.  He was wearing leather
sandals, and a lightweight, plaid short-sleeved shirt was open over his
white T-shirt, neither tucked into his khaki shorts.  He had one of those
woven bracelets on his left wrist.

I didn't realize I had been staring at him until I saw him glance and
me, then turn and stare back.  His friend, a dark-haired guy in jeans and
beer T-shirt, watched me too.  I quickly looked down at the top of the
box I carried, but I knew it was too late.  Busted!  Well, whatever.  I
knew I was gay, but I hadn't planned on coming out like this.  The blond
said something to the other guy -- I was too far away to hear -- and they
both laughed.  I felt the red flooding into my face.  I caught movement
in the corner of my eye as the two guys spread out and began to toss the
Frisbee.  I'd reached the quad and was making my way around to the
building facing the parking lot.  In my embarrassment, it seemed like
forever until I'd walked the length of the quad.

I was on the third floor.  University administrators have a lot of fun
with incoming freshman.  They stick them in the buildings farthest from
the parking lots, and with some extra consideration I'd gotten the top
floor, too.  I guess the close dorms are perks of seniority.  By the time
I got to my floor, even this light box of office supply crap was heavy; I
couldn't wait to get to the other boxes in the car.  I made my way down
the hall, looking for the room number I'd gotten in the mail a couple
weeks earlier.  I found my room, unlocked the door, and walked inside.

It wasn't too bad, for a dorm.  There was a bed, lengthwise, on each of
the two side walls, and a flat topped desk at the foot of each bed.  A
chair was behind each desk, and to the side of each desk, away from the
bed, was a closet door.  On the wall facing the hall door were three
windows, one between the beds in the center of the wall, and one over
each headboard.  I put my box on the left desk, and walked to the head of
the bed.  The bare mattress looked clean at least.  I opened the Venetian
blinds of the center window and looked out.  The room was in the back of
the building.  I could see the lake through the trees, and across the
pond, the women's dorms.

The campus was shaped like a horseshoe around the lake, with the academic
buildings in the center, and the residences at each end.  The university
hadn't even admitted women until World War I, and to protect the virtue
of the belles, the women's dorms were separated by water from the
men's.  Only a wooden footbridge connected the two.  Good old Southern
values.  Still, it was a nice view.

I drew up the blinds and opened all the windows, then headed back to grab
the next box.  When I got to the stairs and looked down, the blond from
the quad was on the landing.  He looked up at me and smiled.

"Hey, you're early," he said as he climbed the last flight.  When he
stood two steps down from the floor, he was eye to eye with me.  He must
have been about 6'3" to my 5'10".  He tossed his head back and to the
left to swing his bangs out of his eyes as he stuck out his hand.  "I'm
Tom Patterson, the floor RA.  What's your name?"

I took his hand and his grip was unexpectedly strong.  "Jeff Gaskins,"
I returned.

He released my hand and draped his arm over my shoulders.  His green eyes
were hypnotizing.  He turned me away from the stairs and back down the
hall.  "Great to have you, Jeff.  Which room are you in?"

"327," I answered.

"Good room," he nodded.  "Lake view."  He paused.  "Well, OK, they
all suck, but they're dorms.  They could be worse."  He pointed to the
end of the hall.  "My room's down there.  If you need anything --
neighbors too noisy, room mate too obnoxious -- just let me know."

We stopped at my room.  I'd left the door open, knowing I'd be carrying
boxes on the next trip.  Tom looked inside.  "No `rents to help out?"

"No, my dad works overseas," I answered.

"Hey, you can't move in by yourself!  It'll take you all day.
Besides, that stuff's going to be heavy hoofing it up three flights of
stairs.  Let me go take a leak, and I'll help you out."

"Thanks, that'd be great!"  I was surprised by the enthusiasm in his
tone, and not just about helping me move.  He had amazing charisma, the
way he looked, the smile, especially the eyes.  Before I knew what had
happened, he'd pulled me into the dorm bathroom with him.

The bathroom was a floor-to-ceiling tile job.  On the wall facing the
door were five urinals, and three door-less toilet stalls were
immediately right of the door.  On the left wall were four sinks with
large mirror over the splash boards.  On the right wall was an entry to a
tiled corridor, off from which opened the shower stalls.  Tom guided me
to the center of the bathroom, then withdrew his arm and took his place
at the end urinal.  I didn't know why, but my gaze followed his hand as
he reached down, tucked in the front of his T-shirt, and unzipped his
fly.  I couldn't see his cock the way the plaid shirt's tail draped at
his sides, but I could see the stream of piss when it began.

"How long have you known you're gay, Jeff" I heard a voice say.
Startled, I looked up to see Tom staring at me.  I didn't even know how
long I'd been looking at his crotch.  I felt the heat as my face
reddened.  Tom reached down, shook his dick a second, and tucked it back
inside.  He never turned his face from mine as he carefully watched my
reaction.  He turned to me as he zipped back up.

"Uh, since high school."  I stammered.  He smiled.

"It's OK, Jeff.  I'm bisexual myself."  He washed his hands, then
walked over to face me.  He reached out with one hand and lightly brushed
my cheek with his thumb.  "You're actually pretty cute.  Jock?"

I nodded.  "Soccer," I mumbled.  He smiled.  Those eyes.  He reached
down and unzipped his fly again.  He looked down, and my eyes followed
his, as he reached into his shorts and pulled out his cock.  It was
pretty long, even soft, and cut.  I looked back up at him, and his eyes
had returned to mine.

"How does it look?"

"Good," I heard myself whisper.  His smile widened.  His teeth were
perfect, and perfectly white.  He looked back down, and again, my eyes
followed his.  I stared at his cock as it started to harden.  I felt his
arm on my shoulders again, but I couldn't take my eyes off his cock as
we began to walk down towards the showers.

"Are you gay or bisexual?"

"Gay," I replied, still watching his cock.

"Have you been with any guys before?"  I nodded.  "How many?"

"Just one.  Guy from high school."  I was in a trance or something.

"Are you out?"

"No, I've been thinking about coming out, but I haven't decided when
or how."  We were at the showers, and Tom backed me into one of the open
stalls.  His cock was hard now.  It was thinner than average, but long.
He reached down and groped my package.  I hadn't even realized I was
hard myself until I felt his hand touch me.  I took my eyes off his dick
and looked down at my own crotch.  My shorts were tented, and there was a
dark spot from precum.  How long had I been hard?

"Want to suck me off, Jeff?"

I looked up at him.  His features were soft, and his eyes were almost
imploring.  He bit his lower lip.  "Yes!"  I whispered.  He smiled and
nodded slowly.

I fell to my knees instantly.  I pulled his draping plaid shirttails back
to his hips and tucked them into the waist of his khakis.  I leaned into
his crotch and pressed my cheek onto his shaft as I breathed in the smell
of his musk through the open fly.  I moved my hands to his ass, and
cupped his firm mounds.  They felt surprisingly muscular; I must have
underestimated his athleticism.  My breath was ragged as I pulled my face
back and took the head of his cock between my lips.  It was hot and
spongy as I licked it all over.  Tom moaned above me, and I looked up to
see his eyes closed and a look of concentration on his face.  I sucked
harder.

His mouth fell open and his hips began to rock.  I swept my tongue from
side to side, pressing it against him, as he slowly thrust in and out
between my tightly clenched lips.  He lowered his head and his bangs
swung down.  His eyes read my face as he slid his cock in and out of my
mouth.  He never thrust in too hard, never trying to make me take him.  I
began to move my head down on his shaft, and he reached up to slide the
fingers of both hands into my hair.  I saw him wince as I swallowed the
length of his cock and his head pressed through into my throat.  He was
panting, and I could feel the tension in his ass cheeks as they
tightened.  I pulled back and completely voluntarily impaled my face on
his cock over and over again.

He was so hot, and his face was gorgeous as I watched the signs of his
pleasure morph into signs of lust and desperation.  He hands on my head
were never demanding, never compelling, just encouraging as his fingers
buried into my hair.  After some time, his eyes clenched shut and his jaw
clamped tightly.  His head fell back and I could feel the start of his
orgasm as his ass trembled.  I went down for one last deep throat, but I
timed it poorly, and he shot his first spurt just as I breathed in
through my nose.  I sputtered and gagged slightly, and his cum ran out
passed my lips and onto my shirt.  I quickly recovered, and began sucking
and licking the head of his cock as he cried out.

For the first time, his hands clutched my head tightly, a reflex action,
as he pumped a half dozen loads onto my tongue.  His spunk tasted thick
and salty and I rolled it over my tongue.  It was only seconds after the
last load when he lowered his head to look down at me.  He pulled his
dick from my lips and wiped it on both of my cheeks before tucking it
back into his fly.

He smiled as he reached back and grabbed my wrists, removing my hands
from him.  The smile was different, not friendliness now, but satisfied
condescension.  "Thanks, Jeff," he said as he zipped up.  "You've got
some of my cum on your shirt.  Better get that out before it stains or
anything."  He reached over me and flipped on the water.  The coldness
shook me from whatever form of suspended consciousness I'd been in, and
as he turned to walk away, I realized I still held his cum in my mouth.
"It'll be nice having a resident cocksucker," I heard him call, and
followed by the thud of the bathroom door closed behind him.

Kneeling there, I swallowed.