Date: Fri, 15 Apr 2005 14:13:40 -0700 (PDT)
From: Rio Mack <badprose@yahoo.com>
Subject: alien-culture 10 (gay/college)

The Alien Culture Project, part 10
by Rio Mack

DISCLAIMER:  This story contains depictions of gay sex.

Chance got to the library, found an empty table, stowed his stuff, and went
to search out his materials.  His English assignment was to write a
seven-page research paper draft on some historical topic.  About a week
ago, when the paper was assigned, Chance had started poking around for
sources in the library and on-line, assuming he'd do something on the
history of wrestling.  It made him laugh now to remember how last week - in
those pre-Reed days - the most interesting sources he'd found were all
about nude wrestling in the ancient Olympics.  He devoured them guiltily.
Fuck, did they ever get him hard.  He went back to the dorm and shot off in
a reverie of swinging cocks and firm muscles, all ripe and sweaty under a
hot Aegean sun.  Damn, stud, you shoulda knowed.

But now he wanted to go beyond just wrestling, cause those sources he'd
read had all mentioned how homosexuality, especially the love of beautiful
young boys, was quite common in Greece.  Chance had to know more about
this.  He spent the first hour or two in the library reading all the
sources he could find: it was fascinating, enlightening, and made him hard
and drippy as hell the more he read.  The paper started taking shape
easily.  In the first half-hour he'd even thought of his title: "The
Normalization of Homosexual Desire in Ancient Greece" (see what happens
when a bumpkin like you hangs around with brainiac like Reed, he smiled -
you start soundin' smart!).

He couldn't believe the history he was learning.  Classical Greek culture
was like a wonderful dream to Chance, a world he longed for: young boys, 12
and over, all naked, being trained in art, music, poetry, dance, and
athletics by older men in their 20s.  Their schools were called gymnasiums,
which meant, literally, "a place to be nude" (and there was even a
separate, smaller school for just wrestling, like Coach had for his team).
Sex was such a major part of the entire experience.  Sons of the idle rich
would come and watch the lessons, taking a fancy to one of the naked youths
and plying him with gifts.  If the youth consented, they would start a
sexual affair, which was entirely accepted.  Such affairs could improve a
family's social standing, so attractive young boys were the pride of every
father.  The young boys knew such affairs were expected; to show their
awareness of the custom, they wore vials of oil hanging from a leather
thong around their necks, a ready source of lube when their rich
twenty-something lovers wanted to fuck.

The ancient Greek ideal of beauty and eros was the very desire that guided
Chance's life: ripe, athletic, wholly masculine.  Eros meant lust, not
love; one might very well one day marry a woman, but meanwhile what was
normal and expected was that a young man would indulge the male's deep,
physical passion for beautiful, athletic boys.  The older men and their
boy-lovers would hold symposia, at which the boys - again, all nude, would
show off their skills in art, song, athletic games, and, especially,
muscular development.  Imagine, Chance sighed, his long, hard cock leaking
steadily in his dungarees: to be one of a whole roomful of gorgeous,
preening, wonderfully developed young boys, all naked and showing off their
talents to the aroused stares of their slightly older boyfriends; a
paradise of ripe, young, athletic passion, full to bursting with the thick
juice of male passion.  There was even a prize for the most beautiful young
boy.

Chance worked eagerly on this paper, his body tingling with sexual fantasy
as his fevered hands typed on his laptop.  He felt like he was writing
porn, not doing research.  As he wrote up his draft, he kept visualizing
his life now as a modern version of this ancient dreamscape.  He could see
Coach, in maybe just a jock-strap, schooling his naked wrestling team.
Practice would be this gorgeous bevy of naked boys, all lithe and muscular,
stretching and working out, dicks hard with the eager lust of young
passion.  Coach would move among the boys, the muscular ideal of every boy
in the class, his long, manly cock straining in his jock, staring frankly,
letting his strong hands feel and stroke and linger where they liked.  He
could see a group of similarly jock-clad hot young twenty-something's
showing up at practice and lustily making passes at him and his team-mates.
Their meets would include contests for best developed body, best
conditioned, strongest, most skillful young wrestler, and most beautiful.
And afterwards, wild orgies in the locker room, going on for hours, till
every last drop of pent-up sexual passion had been spent.

He was just finishing his section on the island of Crete, where
overpopulation had resulted in both the forced segregation of the sexes, as
well as marriage being prohibited till age 30.  As he described how the
segregated boys eagerly took to randy young fucking among each other, he
was so worked up he had to stop writing.  It was not only a strain to
figure out a way to phrase such steamy, hard-core scenarios in a neutral,
scholarly language acceptable to freshman comp, but those scenes themselves
had gotten him to horny to work any more.  He stopped writing and just
stroked his thick, dripping cock; he was so hard he had to cum soon or his
balls would explode.  He looked at the clock in the library: a little
before 4.  He could easily finish in about an hour: he had six pages
already and only needed to finish a brief section on how the art and
architecture of the time reinforced male-centered passion.  He could easily
finish up here, grab supper, and make it to the tailor shop in plenty of
time to meet Reed by 7.  There was a men's room right off the stairwell
lounge, so he headed there to jerk out a huge, creamy load so he could get
back to work.

As he was just about to push open the doors to the lobby, a soft, deep
voice from behind called, "Chance! Hey!  How's the paper going, man?"

He turned around nervously, embarrassed that his long hard cock was showing
so obscenely through his low-slung dungarees, to be met with a beautiful
sight: Adrian Richards, another student from his English class.  Adrian was
a gorgeous black athlete, one of the stars of the track and field team.  He
had a thick, sexy mane of carefully-braided dreads that went down to his
shoulders, earrings in both ears, and rich chocolate skin.  He reminded
Chance a little of Reed, in the way he combined male-model good looks with
an athlete's lithe, powerful build.  Adrian had on an oversized button-down
shirt, completely unbuttoned, with a white wife-beater underneath, worn
like Chance wore his own T's, short and tight.  A sexy swath of Adrian's
lean, cut abs was showing, as well as the waist band of his boxers, thanks
to the drooping, oversized jeans he wore.  As Chance answered Adrian's
greeting, his gaze was riveted on that beautiful chest and ab definition;
fuck, Chance thought, feeling his aching hardness intensify, his nipples
are even hard.  Going from his X-rated fantasies of Greek boy-sex, which
had got him all steamed up, to now have to gaze on this real-life ideal of
young masculinity was clearly a cosmic joke of the gods themselves.

He extended his hand warmly, and Adrian shook it eagerly.

"Hey, Adrian.  Good to see you.  Listen, I'm just goin' out here for a
little break.  Y' wanna join me?"

"Love to, man.  And, Chance, call me Deuce.  Nobody calls me 'Adrian,'
except people who don't know me well."

Chance was half-embarrassed but half-turned on to notice Deuce's eyes were
scoping out his stiff prick.  He turned and strode out the doors, into the
stairwell lobby.  They grabbed a couch, and Chance let out a sigh.

"Damn," he laughed, "that was hard fucking work in there."

"No doubt," Deuce smiled knowingly, still crotch-watching.  Chance let it
pass.

"But just a little more work and I'm done.  What'd you choose for your
topic, Deuce?"

"I wanted to do something on historical representation of the black male
body.  You know, like how do we go from Jack Johnson to Miles Davis to
Evander Holyfield and now to Tyson Beckford and 50 Cent and Usher?"

"Cool topic!" Chance said, understanding the general drift of it, although
he had no idea who any of those names were.

"How about you?" Deuce asked.

"Man, I have gotten totally into this paper.  OK, here's the title, and I
swear I came up with it myself: 'Normalization of Homosexual Desire in
Ancient Greece.'  Whaddya think?"

"Title sounds great.  Sounds just like the way Professor Randall talks.
But I gotta ask you, man: what gave you the idea to do it on that?"

Chance explained, "Well, take your paper, dude; you're a young black guy,
so you decide to do somethin' historical to find out about you and your
culture.  I'm a young gay guy, and I want to find out more about me."

Bingo!  Deuce got just the answer he wanted to hear.  He'd had his eye on
Chance since day one in that English class.  The hottest-looking stud on
campus, hands down, Chance had been a major star in Deuce's jerk-off
fantasies.  He'd followed him out to the hall here just now when he saw him
get up to leave, hoping they might make small talk like this.  Deuce had
been stealing long, lingering glances at him for the past 2 hours.  An
afternoon studded with scenes of Chance Taylor's big biceps rippling in
that tight T he wore, or leaning back and pushing up his T to scratch that
incredible washboard, and then the time Deuce saw him stroking his dick
while reading!  Fuck, it had been the most enjoyable homework session ever.
He'd had a low-level hard-on for the past hour or so.  But who the hell
knew Taylor was gay?  He'd slipped way under his gaydar.  Deuce, though,
knew he had to tread cautiously here.  Given the ultra-macho circle he hung
around with - all athletes, mostly black, and many of them football players
- he was not at all ready to have it known he was into dudes.  He was just
about convinced a couple of his friends were gay, too, but Deuce decided
he'd let those guys come out first.  But fuck: Chance Taylor!  Too fucking
hot to be true.

"That's cool, man," Deuce said, maintaining his smooth, hip veneer.  He
'casually' moved in a little closer to Chance on the couch, making it seem
like he wanted their space to get more intimate cause the conversation was
getting more personal, but he really just wanted to get nearer to this
fine-ass muscle-hunk.

"But shit, Chance, I can't front: I never woulda pegged you for gay.  No
disrespect, man, none at all.  I just never woulda pegged you that way is
all.  No offense, but you always seemed like a redneck sort of backwoods
country boy to me.  And I ain't thought any o' those dudes were gay."

Chance was very good at reading body language.  He'd known exactly what it
meant when Deuce moved closer.  Well, Chance was very good at flirting,
too.  And a fucking wet-dream athlete-stud like Deuce was someone he
definitely wanted to flirt with.  So he mock-slapped Deuce's thigh, making
sure to land his hand juuuuussst close enough to the boy's crotch, and
exclaimed in his best twangy drawl, "Well, bow howdy, there you go, son!
Just shows to go ya, don't it: y'ain't never can tell 'bout these things
no-how!"

They both laughed.  But Chance left his hand there, and cut the shit,
staring at those cool green eyes in that beautiful black face, "How about
you, man?  How should I peg you?'

Deuce smiled, rubbed his lean jaw contemplatively, opened his legs a little
wider (as if to invite Chance's big, firm hand to move in further if it
wanted - and, Chance quickly demonstrated, it wanted), and let his pink
tongue play slowly along his lower lip.  Then he put his own hand on
Chance's thigh, making sure his fingertips brushed right up close to that
beautifully outlined horse-cock in his jeans, and purred invitingly, "Well,
what say we go out for a few beers after we finish our papers, and then
maybe head back to my place?  You might be ready to peg me right good by
then, cowboy."

Chance smiled and moved his hand to rub Deuce's cock, hidden in the
bagginess of his jeans.  Chance was delighted to find it long, thick, and
hard as steel.  Deuce started the same sensual rubbing of Chance's cock.
Both boys started dripping simultaneously.

"Aw fuck, Deuce.  That's about the best invitation I could imagine right
now.  But please, let me take a rain check.  I gotta bolt around 5:30, run
an errand, then I got a date with my boyfriend tonight at 7."

Deuce smiled, intrigued, but kept stroking.  Fuck, was Chance huge or what?
He began to salivate at the thought of this sweet slab of white meat up his
ass.  But he had to be sure he'd just heard Chance right.

"'Boyfriend'?  And you still want a rain check?  What's wrong with this
picture, I wonder?"

Chance laughed, and brushed his hand along Deuce's cheek, then ran his
fingers through those sexy dreads.  "Don't worry, man.  It's cool.  We're
very tight, Reed and I, but it's a kind of an open situation in terms of
our being with other guys on a casual basis.  Make sense?"

Deuce couldn't stop rubbing Chance, and Chance couldn't stop rubbing Deuce.
They'd both passed the point of no return.

"Makes wonderful sense, dude.  And shit yeah, I'll give you that rain
check.  Bring your boyfriend, too.  See if he'd like to peg me.  But
listen, Chance: bathroom's right over there, dude.  This place seems pretty
empty.  You wanna go finish this off?  That won't make you late, will it?"

"Fuck no," Chance smiled, bending in to kiss those full, sensuous lips.
"Tell you the truth, I got so worked up doing my paper on Greek boy-sex, I
was headed in here to pump out a load anyways."

Now Deuce kissed Chance, rubbing his long, thick dick harder, more
urgently.  "And now I'll tell you the truth, dude: I was watching you
stroke this thick hunk o' meat while you were working.  Got me so hot I
couldn't fuckin' think straight."

Both hot boys strode quickly to the john.  Thankfully, it was empty.  Deuce
wanted to keep it that way, so when he saw the yellow "Closed for
Maintenance" barrier leaning against the wall, he set it up outside the
door.  Then it was a race to take off boots and clothes.  Chance won, of
course, as once he kicked off his work-boots, he'd only had to shuck his
dungarees and T.  He watched Deuce strip off the rest.  What a beautiful
fucking body, he thought.  Some black guys were blessed with a lusciously
lean, beautifully etched musculature, and Deuce was sure one of those.
Long limbs of lean, tender beef, popping out from that smooth, brown skin.
Reed, with his beautiful Brazilian butterscotch coloring, Tou's gorgeous
olive-gold, and now Deuce's thick, rich chocolate.  Fuck, guys came in such
wonderful flavors.

Chance let out a moan as Deuce shucked his drawers.  His cock was long and
gleaming; not as thick or as long as Chance's, but pretty damn close.  It
was a moist, mouth-watering cocoa color, and it curved its length down
fetchingly atop a round, tight ballsac.  Deuce's entire musculature was
sleek and hairless, except for a sexy, well-trimmed band of tightly-curled
black pubic hair, seeming to underscore his taught lower abs.  His gaze
looked up at that utterly beautiful face framed by that sensual head of
hair.

Deuce himself just stood there, rubbing his own cock absent-mindedly, and
staring at the most beautifully developed man he had ever seen.  As
beautifully big and well-chiseled Chance's upper body was, Deuce was turned
on by his lower body: those perfectly-worked, massive calves, they made a
strong, perfect base for this ideal of muscular beauty; and then those
thighs, enough to make Deuce cream right now: he could imagine licking and
stroking them for hours; so ripped and powerful-looking were they, all hard
planes and grooves.  But not bulkily massive like some guys, like his
football-playing room-mate; Chance's quads were almost elegant, they
tapered up to the best set of finely carved hip-bones he'd ever seen, and
then that hard, unbelievable 8-pack.  And oh yes, the cock of one's dreams.
Chance was a perfectly formed male specimen, but one that was then re-made
even sexier, with an overlay of extra-cut bulk from his hard-core
conditioning.  Deuce realized he was cock was now drooling thickly.

"Fuck, stud," he croaked hoarsely, "you're every guy's fantasy come to
life!"

Chance was on that dripping dick in a second, almost immediately moaning in
utter pleasure.  After sucking and licking, grabbing the base with his hand
and working that shiny black head, he pulled off for a minute to gasp,
"Fuck, Deuce, this is heavenly.  It's my first black cock, dude, and what a
sweet fucking hunk of chocolate.  Fuck, man, don't laugh, but it makes me
think of those big hard-chocolate bunnies I'd get every Easter."

Chance brought that glorious cock back to his lips and tongued the
cocoa-brown head, digging in for any more of that sweet, tangy precum.

Deuce, in ecstasy, rubbed the sexy stubble on Chance's head.  He dreamily
laughed at Chance's last remark.  "It's pretty much solid chocolate, dude,
but keep tasting: soon you're gonna get to the creamy filling."

Chance was licking, kissing and sucking.  The play of Deuce's long fingers
on his newly-buzzed head, as well as the steady throbbing of his own hard,
twitching thickness, was sheer delight.  Deuce's dick was long, thick, and
wet.  Chance held it worshipfully in both hands, kissing it up and down the
shaft, then he rubbed his face and head all over it.  To Deuce, the
sensation of Chance's three-day beard and newly-buzzed head running across
his dick was unbelievable. It was like there was some sexy new sandpaper
one used as a sex toy.

"Ah shit, dude!" Deuce cried, "Motherfucker, is this hot!"

Chance got back to slurping that gorgeous hunk of dark meat in and out of
his mouth, then grabbed Deuce's ass with his hands to hold his crotch firm
so he could bob his head fast and hard up and down on that dick.  Deuce's
ass felt incredible in his hands.  It wasn't hard and lean and firm, as
Chance would have expected, but soft, pliant, sensuous.  Fuck, did he want
to plow into those luscious globes.  He took his mouth off Deuce's dick to
moan, "Shit, dude, this ass is incredible!  So soft, so tender."

"That's how I got my nickname, dude.  My father had a sabbatical in Paris
my junior year of high school.  I had this incredible French boyfriend over
there who called me 'Douce' all the time because of my ass.  Means 'soft'
in French.  Fuck, dude, I love what you're doin'!"

"Damn, when I get that rain check, you'd best believe I'm gonna peg this
sweet ass o' yours for gay all fucking night."

"Shit, man, that's just what I want.  That gorgeous fucking cock of yours.
Best-looking dick I ever seen, man.  Hurry, Chance, keep sucking, play with
my ass.  Make me cum so's I can get my lips on that big hunk o'
white-chocolate boy-meat you got!

Chance spit on his fingers, then went back to sucking Deuce's cock with
fevered zeal.  His spit-slick fingers started prying between the tender
globes of Deuce's ass, then tenderly, but firmly, easing their way into his
hole.

"OH YEAH!" Deuce cried, face-fucking Chance now with lithe sensuality,
rubbing that erotically-buzzed head over and over.  "I'm makin' believe
those big fingers o' yours are gettin' me ready for that huge hunka meat!"

Deeper and deeper Chance took Deuce in, and further and further went his
fingers up into that warm, moist ass.  Fuck, he had to be up there!

"Aw shit, man!" Deuce sobbed, "I'm gonna shoot Chance.  You want my load?
Uhhnnhh, uhhnnhh, AW FUCK, man, here it comes!"  Chance kept his mouth on
Deuce's cock and took every last drop.  He kept fingering that sweet ass
harder and more insistently, which made Deuce cum and cum, harder than he'd
ever cum in months.  The black boy tried hard to stifle the loud, deep
moans that wanted to scream out from his lungs.  Finally he stopped
cumming, but his soft, exhausted gasps went on a while longer.  Chance was
standing now, hugging the boy close, running his hands all over Deuce's
smooth, sexy muscles.

Deuce opened his eyes to gaze in awe at this sexual athlete.  "Aw fuck,
Chance.  That was the best sex I've had since, aw fuck, man I can't even
remember."

They kissed, tongues warmly dancing with each other.  Chance's hands were
back in the folds of Deuce's soft, warm ass.

Deuce got down and slowly put Chance's hard, drippy prize in his mouth,
savoring each inch.  Watching his long, thick, dripping meat slowly
disappear into Deuce's thick, sensuous lips, seeing his hard pink shaft
against Deuce rich brown skin, was too erotic for words.

"Suck me a little, Deuce, and then, man, please let me in that ass!"

Deuce looked up at Chance and smiled, "I was hopin' you'd say that, dude."

He went back to work on that dream-cock, bringing his hands up to roam over
the best set of abs he'd ever seen.

"Oh yeah, work that slab all over, man!  Damn, you know I love that shit!
Gets me hard as hell!"

Chance ran his hands through his new fuck-buddy's thick mane.  "God, you
are about the most gorgeous boy I've ever seen, Deuce.  You're fucking
bewitchingly beautiful, you know that?  Like my boyfriend.  Fuck, I am so
fucking glad you came up to me in the library.  Aw shit are you ever fine!"

He put his head back and moaned.  Those warm tender lips gliding over his
shaft, that sweet tongue playing with his cock-head, and those strong,
brown fingers dancing across his abs.  Fuck, what a fucking thrill.  Chance
still marveled at how incredibly his life had bloomed in the past few days,
thanks to Reed.  His sex-life was like a stunted flower that had gloriously
opened.  Reed was the master gardener who'd rescued the tender shoot of his
love, recognizing its true variety, gently working it loose from the hard,
rocky ground where it had lain barren and almost lifeless, and
transplanting it to a rich, lush, fertile soil, one which had all the
proper nourishment for his genus.  No wonder his stalk had quickly shot up
so firm and thick, and no wonder his seed sprouted now in such healthy
abundance.  He was finally planted in his rightful garden, one rich in the
fruits of male passion, teeming with such a wonderful variety of ripe,
beautiful boys.

"God I love this, dude!"  he softly sighed, from somewhere just south of
heaven.  Deuce had his dick in his hands now, playing with the foreskin
sexily, teasing the tip with his tongue.

"Aw shit, man, lemme at that ass now, please, Deuce!  Else I'll shoot any
minute!"

Taking that huge cock in both hands, Deuce kissed it lovingly, then licked
up and down the underside a few times, stopping to kiss and lick that big,
luscious, low-hanging ball-sac.  As sorry as he was to tear this sweet hunk
of meat out of his mouth, he was that anxious to feel it up his ass.  Fuck,
he hadn't had a really good fuck in months, just a couple nervous,
anonymous sessions in the basement tea room of this very library.  Well, a
slow, glorious fuck from this huge hunk of jock-stud boy-meat would sure
make up for it.

"How you want me, dude?"

"Shit, man.  I don't care.  I just gotta get all up in that sweet, soft ass
o' yours, Deuce.  Or should I say [and here Chance tried to sound French]
'Douce'?"

Deuce laughed, took one last, lingering swipe at the underside of this
gorgeous, perfectly shaped, thick, veiny cock, and rose up.  He kissed
Chance hard, rubbing his muscles all over, then he braced himself against a
sink.

"Fuck me, Chance!  Take me, dude!"

Chance rubbed that gorgeous brown frame, then bent down to kiss and lick
those soft globes tenderly all over.  Soon, he was rimming Deuce's sweet
brown pucker, as the boy whimpered huskily in delight.

After a few minutes, Deuce was crying, "Now, man! I gotta feel that thing!"

Chance rose up, took his hefty tool in hand, and began to work his thick
cock-head into Deuce's ass, which was wiggling excitedly.  Slowly, Chance
eased in, with Deuce controlling his muscles to gradually accommodate this
dream-dick.

"FUCK, MAN!  How big ARE you?  You sure you ain't got no black blood in
you?  AH SHIT!" he screamed as Chance lustfully plowed onward.  He started
playing with Deuce's dick as he inched his own thickness further and
further up that sweet brown ass.  Finally, he was all in.  Deuce felt that
sweet ballsac pressing against his ass.

"AW FUCK, DUDE!  I ain't never lettin' you leave that ass, man!  Goddamn,
that's what a boy wants to feel!  Don't start pumpin' yet, man; just let me
work my ass all over you, to get used to this fine-ass dick fillin' me up."

As Deuce's ass writhed sensuously over his thick, stiff prick, Chance
continued to let one hand play with the boy's cock and balls, the other was
now working over those lean pecs, moving from tit to tit, pinching and
twisting.  Soon, Deuce's ass was clenching Chance's big dick hard and
hungrily.

"AW YEAH, man!" Deuce moaned.  "That shit feels good!  Fuck me, man!  Fuck
me as hard as one young stud can fuck another!"

Then Chance got to work.  As his powerful hips built up a rhythm, and his
hands kept dancing across Deuce chest and groin, he watched in the mirror
above the sink as that beautiful black face writhed in the serene ecstasy
of masculine pleasure, those gorgeous dreads dancing with delight.  The
picture of this young beauty in the throes of erotic bliss from this steamy
bout of boy-sex inflamed Chance.  He grabbed Deuce's hips and threw him a
hard, athletic fuck.  He day-dreamed they were two nude young boys at an
ancient Greek symposium, showing off their well-developed, beautifully
muscular bodies as well as their lithe, athletic skill in fucking.  He
could just picture handsome young men around them, jacking off in
lust-inflamed appreciation of these two young heroes.

In and out Chance plunged, watching his long thick dick impale itself time
and again in that sexy black ass. His powerfully-muscled hips were hitting
every switch in Deuce's ass.  Soon he didn't need to hold on to Deuce's
hips, as Deuce was bucking back fiercely and hungrily against the long dick
stroking him, using his ass to ride it in utter pleasure.  So Chance went
back to tit-play. He stared dreamily at their reflection in the mirror, the
sweet picture of his white hands playing over that gorgeous brown chest,
Deuce's hand jacking his long, shiny black cock.  Presently, he watched
Deuce's dreamy smile turn to a face-clenching look of utter pleasure,
signaling he was about to cum.  Chance's gaze riveted on that long, hard,
black cock as it splashed spurt after spurt of thick white cream back
against his smooth brown torso.  Deuce's ass clenched tightly on Chance's
hardness until his nuts were pumped dry.

Chance knew he would cum soon himself, but he kept long-dicking his
beautiful new friend.  He scooped off some cum from under Deuce's nipple,
brought it to his lips, and licked them sensually while Deuce smiled back
at him in the mirror.  He scooped up another gob and fed it to Deuce, who
grabbed Chance's hand with both of his, licked his fingers clean, then
kissed them gratefully.

Then Deuce grinned, and bent over a little further.  Chance watched in the
mirror as the lithe brown stud reached a hand down between his legs.  Soon
he could feel the fingers of that hand playing with his ballsac as it
slapped against Deuce's ass.

"OH FUCK YEAH!" Chance cried.  Deuce was fondling his balls like crazy,
high on the feeling of those ripe, juicy orbs hanging firm and full in
their long, low sexy nutsac.  His slender fingers caressed them, tickled
them, pulled on them, rubbed them together.  They felt to Deuce like some
rare, precious jewels stored in a soft, smooth velvet bag.  Chance, though,
couldn't hold out; the combination of Deuce's talented ass muscles working
over his dick and those heavenly fingers fondling his smooth ballsac was
too much.  He plunged his cock to the hilt and shot load after load of hot
boy-spunk into that sweet, gorgeous ass.

After he had shot his load, he slowly pulled out.  Deuce got down and
licked that gorgeous, slimy piece of meat as clean as a whistle.  Then he
kissed it one last time, and the boys dressed.

Before they headed out of the john, they embraced in the deep, total-body
serenity of boy-lust well-slaked.

"So," Chance smiled, "rain check?"

Deuce grinned.  "Fuck rain checks.  I want a weekly appointment.  Maybe
daily.  That's the best fucking sex imaginable.  Chance, you're just
incredible."

"You ain't nothin' to sneeze at your damn self, son."

They exchanged phone numbers and got back to their papers.

Thirty minutes later, an invigorated Chance Taylor finished his paper,
ending with a section that traced the penis as fertility symbol through
Greek culture, in both architecture - all those phallic columns - as well
as art, including his analysis of some of the pictures of pottery shards
he'd found, all with various scenes articulating the some of the boundaries
masculine lust in ancient Greece: men seducing beautiful young boys, nude
athletics, a young man playing with a boy's penis, and boys fondling each
other's genitals.  When finished, he spell-checked, returned his materials,
and packed his back-pack.  On his way out, he stopped off to kiss Deuce
good-bye, and tell him how glad he was to have found such a beautiful,
intimate friend.

Walking out of the library, back to his dorm room, Chance's mind (not to
mention his dick) was still abuzz with the incredible sex he and Deuce had
shared.  This might not be ancient Greece, he thought, but it would sure as
hell do till they invented a time machine.

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