Subject: STORY: Dorm
Date: 24 Feb 92 18:34:40 GMT

                  AN INFERNO STORY by LARRY LONG ***

DORM

I was sitting in my dorm room, studying.  You know, one of those difficult
nights, when an all-nighter was called for.  I was craming for a Final in
Cultural Anthropology, a course which I should be able to Ace, but for
which I was way behind.  Too much coffee.  Too many cigarrettes, kinda
nervous. Midnight. Only so much time to go to an 8 am exam.

     I was a little surprised when there was a knock on my door.  While
midnight is not so late in a college dorm, still, I wasn't expecting
anybody, and everybody that I knew was in the same study/mess that I was
in.  I got up slowly and pulled my worn terrycloth robe around my naked
body and tied belt.  Late spring in Southern California can be very hot,
and I had tried to cool off before begining my allnighter with a shower.
Living alone in the room as I did, (my roomate had dropped out of school
earlier that year), I didn't always bother to dress, although, come to
think of it, even when my roomate had been there we didn't always dress.

     I should describe myself, I guess.  I am 5'7", 135#, a college
sophomore.  I am pretty good looking, hard body, and young.  And gay.

     I walked over the door and opened it.  There wasn't any hesitation, we
didn't worry much about being mugged or anything in those days in the
dorms.

     There was a young boy, about 13 years old, standing the in the hallway
in front of me.  He was about 5'4", and very very pretty, the kind of dark
olive skin with very black eyebrows and lashes that are strikingly pretty
on a young, smooth skinned boy, and make him so much prettier than any girl
can ever be.  I didn't know him, but I sure wanted to.

     "Hi, I'm Phil, Steve's friend." he said to me and just waited there
for me to do something.

     "Phil, come in.  Steve told me all about you."

     Steve was my cousin, my father's sister's boy.  He was 6 years younger
than I was, and a very athletic, handsome young man.  The previous spring
he had come to visit with me when I was a freshman in the same dorm, and
had stayed with me for a week. I had really gotten to know him during that
time, and had taught him a lot about growing up, espcially I had taught him
how to masturbate.  He really took to jacking off, and by the time he went
home, he was great at it, and had even made it with me.  We had beat
eachother off for the first time in the showers in the dorm, at 3am, and
then gone back to my room.  My roomie was away, and we had 69ed for the
first time in his life.  He shot a huge load of jiz into my mouth, and took
mine all the way, and was hooked at that point.

     Steve had told me at Christmas vacation about his experiences at camp,
and his good friend Phil, whom he had broken in and taught in much the same
way that I had taught him.  While he and Phil didn't live in the same town,
they had managed to visit each other during the year more than a few times,
and had had some wild vacations together.  Steve told me at Easter that his
friend Phil would be visiting in Los Angeles, and would like to stop up and
see me.  He said that he had told him all about me, and that he needed a
place to stay and wanted to stay with me for a night or two.  I thought
that sounded just fine.

     Phil came on into the room and set his pack down, which he had been
carrying over one shoulder.  He was dressed in loose fitting jeans and
thong sandals, with a loose t-shirt on top. That was all.  It was hot, as I
told you, and California in the 60's was as informal as it can get.  His
jeans were bell-bottomed, the t-shirt tie-dyed, and the sandals were
authentic Indian imports.  Phil's hair was slightly on the long side, but
not too much, and not as long as mine, which came down to the small of my
back.  His body was slim and tight under the loose fitting clothes, his
face was chisled, with smooth but hard lines.  But, while the lines of his
bones were hard, there was a soft beauty about him that was unreal,
etherial, the kind of young boy beauty that will evaporate quickly in time,
with the onset of puberty and the begining of changes in bone, muscle, and
hair.  His body was perfect, like a young man's body, more like a
young-man-body than a young man's body will ever be.  It was perfect
boy-dom.

     Now I was really in a pinch.  I had that exam the next morning, for
which I was geared up to study.  But I had this perfect boy here, and his
body was calling to mine, his juices were calling to mine, his dick was
calling to mine, his mouth was calling to mine, his ass was calling to
mine, his jiz was calling to mine, and..... what was I to do?  Fuck it.  I
could always take a make up, I could always take an incomplete, shit, I
could always fail Cultural Anthropology, but I don't think an opportunity
like this would be likely to come again soon.

     I sat on the bed across the room from Phil, but across the room is
misleading since the dorm rooms were only 8 feet wide, and with the beds 30
inches wide, that left a 3 foot space between.  Sitting there, my knees
were almost touching his, and I could see the beginings of a bulge starting
to disturb the front of my robe.  I couldn't see too much of what was going
on inside his pants, they were very loose and he was thin.  Phil reached up
to his shoulder, the one on which his pack had been slung, and began to
knead the muscle firmly, showing a little bit of pain on his face.

     "What's wrong?", I asked him. 

     "You hurt your shoulder or your neck?"

     "A little, I think." he answered me. 

     "I think it is from carrying this pack and hitching all weekend.  It
was really tiring and the pack is heavy.  I think I just strained it or
something." As he said this a little smile began to play on his lips,
almost as if he were getting off on the sensation of massaging and rubbing
his own shoulder.  And with that smile his dark eyes and lashes brushed
against the creamy olive of his skin, and his beauty nearly drove me hard
with passion.

     "You gonna stay here for the night or a couple?" I asked him. 

     "Steve said you would be needing a place, and I have the room.  You
are more than welcome," I said to him, and leaned over and patted his thigh
right above the knee.  I left my hand there.

     "Yeah, if you don't mind and are sure you can.  I can see you're
studying, and I don't want to mess you up," Phil said.

     "Don't worry about it," I replied. 

     "I have 10 days before I have to take this exam." This lie was
excused, in my mind, by my anticipation of the night to come.  And, anyway,
the boy needed a place to stay, and I was practically family, him being so
close to my favorite cousin and all.  My dick throbbed in agreement with
this thought.

     Phil stretched his lithe young body and yawned. 

     "God, I am sore.  I've been on the road for 9 hours on a bus from my
uncle's house in San Jose.  I need a shower and some rest."

     We had a communal shower on our floor of the dorm.  While we had a
private toilet, there was only one shower room on each floor, and in it
were six showers with no partitions, YMCA style.

     "I'll take you to the showers. They are down the hall, and should be
empty this time of night.  Leave your stuff in here, its safe.  And I'll
lend you a towel to wear as you go." With that I stood up and went to my
closet and took down a very large, soft beach towel, my favorite, and
turned back to Phil.

     Phil had gotten up and stripped.  It was easy.  His thongs slipped off
easily, his shirt slid over his head and shoulders, and his bell bottoms
were loose enough that they slid down over his smooth, round buns and
thighs as soon as he opened the snap and the fly.  And then he was naked.
No briefs, no jock, no shorts, under those bells he wore nothing, and now
this 13 year old Adonis was naked in my dorm room.  Steve had been right.
Phil was perfect, his body just boy-right, his dick was smooth, rounded,
filling just a little so it stood just a bit out from his body.  There was
no hair on him, except for a small patch of bush just around the base of
his dick, which was dark against the olive of his skin.  Just under his arm
pits, also, there was a light patch of downy hair, and nowhere else.  The
rest of his body was smooth.  But not baby-like. His muscles were well
defined, in a boyish way, and his buns were round and smooth like the most
perfect melons.

     Phil took the towel from my hand and draped it across his body, so
that it covered him like a Roman Toga.  His muscled thigh stood out on one
side, and the area in front of his crotch was slightly raised.

     "Let's get me to that shower," he said. 

     "And, afterwards, would you give me a rub down?  Steve told me you're
great at it, and I really need it.  I am really sore."

     Well, I was ready.....

                              **********

     DORM 2

     I went with Phil down the hall to the showers on our floor.  As I had
suspected, there was nobody there at that time of night, although the room
smelled moist and showed signs of recent usage.  There were puddles of
water in the shower area itself, and a few small ones in the small changing
area where some hooks on the wall and a couple of small benches had been
placed to help those boys too shy to walk down the hall stripped preserve
their modesty.  This dorm was one of the few still all male dorms, and
there was little caution about nakedness on the floors at night.  Even
those few females who managed to either wander in or be brought in for a
little sex with their boyfriends had grown accoustomed to the sight of the
naked dormie-boys wandering to the showers.  In this liberal age of the
1960's, there was nothing unusual in this. Most of the student population
prided itself on having shed the

     "uptightness" of its parental generation and

     "letting it all hang out." In Phil's case, I thought, there was plenty
to let hang out.

     In addition to the puddles and a couple of dorm-issue wet towels lying
around, the room had that steamy, overheated and humid feel that makes a
shower room comfortable.  Phil removed the towel from around his shoulders
and body, reaveling his naked body to me again, his dick loose but slightly
filled with hot blood.  It stood out just a little from his loose, hanging
ballsack, and swung back and forth gently and interestingly as he walked
under the shower head and turned on the water.

     "I think I'll take a shower, too," I said to him, and opened my terry
robe, which was all I had been wearing.

     "I have only this one bar of soap, though," I added, as I took a bar
of Ivory out of my robe pocket.

     "And this Shampoo," I said and took the shampoo out of the other
pocket.

     I stepped naked under the shower head next to him, and turned on the
water, letting a stream of hot steamy water flow over my body.  My own dick
was also just a little hard, standing out slightly from my young, hard
abdomen and showing my full, big eggs swining in their bag under it.  While
my dick is not anything out of size, although its fine and nice, my balls
are huge, and always cause comments in gyms and showers.  They are
literally twice the size of most boy's balls, and hold that much more
juice.

     "Gee," Phil said, letting the hot water run onto his neck and
sore shoulder,

     "I can hardly move this arm.  Don't know how I am gonna wash
myself well."

     "Hold on a sec, Phil," I called over to him, putting down the
soap and picking up the bottle of shampoo. 

     "I will help you, just a sec."

     I opened the bottle of shampoo and poured out a small handfull.  I
went over close to Phil's naked, wet body, and took his head in my empty
hand, pushing his head under the flow of shower water.  With his hair nice
and wet, I rubbed the shampoo into both my palms, and then started to
massage it into his hair. Since I was a couple of inches taller than he
was, it was very easy and comfortable for me to do, and he just kind of
leaned into my massaging of his scalp, letting his body rub up against mine
with the movements of my hands.  It was inevitable that our dicks should
brush against eachother, since we were facing, and that was a little too
close for me, since I was still a little nervous about making it with him.
After all, he was only 13, and had only made it, that I know of, with my
cousin, Steve, who was his own age and his best friend.  He might not
consider himself to be gay, and might not assume that we would fuck that
night.

     I turned him around, and continued to wash his hair, now facing his
back side. My dick, which was starting to stand out a little more, bumped
repeatedly into his round, now wet and glistening buns.  But, while I was
tempted, not being sure that he was sure made me wait, not to mention that
the showers were not that private.  The possiblity that another dormie,
also pulling a late cram for exams, would wander in to cool off was too
intimidating.

     Phil was getting into being rubbed, washed, and massaged, though.  He
was swaying gently with the motion of my hands, which were rubbing his
scalp, washing his hair, and straying down to his neck and shoulder muscles
as well. His skin was very smooth, made even more so by the shampoo which
was sudsing all over his head and neck.  The deep olive of his skin was set
off by the intense white of the shampoo suds, and once again I was struck
by his beauty, the kind of beauty that women can only imitate.  The kind of
beauty which only appears in extraordinary boys for a short period in their
lives, when their bodies are just approaching the changes which will harden
them and change them forever.

     I looked over his shoulders as I leaned over to scrub his head and
hair, and looked down the front of his body, where shampoo suds were
rolling down his smooth belly and around his crotch, his dick, his balls.
He wasn't hard.  His dick was just gently soft/hard, as it had been, more
or less, the whole time I had seen him naked.  It wasn't swelling.  His
focus, I guess, wasn't on cumming at the moment.  In a way which young boys
of his age can, he was totally into being rubbed and massaged, manipulated
and carressed, without it translating into a raging hardon and the need to
shoot his wad.  It was beautiful, that boyish, innocent response to my
ministrations.  Far more sensuous than if he had turned around and cum all
over me.  It was an opening, a receptive invitation for me, to become more
and more intimate, more and more sensual with him, without it needing to be
directly sexual.  It took the pressure off, and I felt myself relax and
begin to work his neck and shoulders more gently.

     I picked up the bar of Ivory soap and began to wash his shoulders and
back, rubbing the bar of soap in long strokes up and down his spine and the
long muscles that stretched from his waist to his shoulders.  The smooth,
silky slipperyness of the soaped back made my hands fly across his flesh,
and the round protrusions of his ass became a ski-jump for my palms as they
ironed his flesh and pressed out all the tension.  I went so far as to
kneel on my knees and move down the backs of his legs and calves, and then
stood up and handed him the soap.  His dick was the same, just gently
soft/hard, swinging with the swaying movements of his body.  And, in a
strange way, that was enough for me for the moment, and my dick also stayed
quiet.

     "Here's the soap, Phil," I said to him. 

     "Can you manage the front of your body yourself, with your sore
shoulder, or do you need help there too?" I kind of wanted him to say he
needed help, but at the same time, I didn't want to have to face the
descisions I would have to make in that case, right then.  Washing around
his belly, his crotch, and his dick and balls would put me right up against
the question, and him too.  And, I thought, there will be time to come up
against that later.

     "Thanks," he said, and took the soap from me and began to wash himself
with the same, long, sliding movements that I had used on his back, when I
moved the soap from his buttocks to his shoulders and back.  Only this
time, he moved his hands and soap himself, up from his thighs, past his
groin and around his balls and dick, and up his belly, chest, around his
nipples, around his shoulder and down his arm and back again, first on one
side, then the other, in long, slow, sensuous movements, his eyes closed,
just enjoying the sensations.  Still his dick remained as it had been,
giving more and more the impression of a breathtakingly beautiful
innocence.

     I, on the other hand, couldn't take too much of this without becoming
raging hard myself, and pushing the issue much too fast.  I stepped out of
the showers with my back to Phil, and reached over for my robe, slipping it
on without turning around. By the time I had it on, had my dick under
control, and the belt tied and was ready to turn back, he was done with his
soaping and was rinsing off under the shower.  His olive skin gleamed in
its wetness, and even in the unflattering light in the shower room, his
body was a glistening object of art.

     "I'll wait for you out in the hall, Phil," I told him, preparing to
cool off a little in more ways than one.

     "No, please don't leave!" he called to me. 

     "I don't think I'll be able to dry off by myself, I really am having
trouble lifting this arm," he said.

     From where I was watching, I hadn't noticed too much trouble in his
movements of his arm, either one.  As he had stroked himself with the soap
all over the front of his body, he seemed to be able to move ok, but, it
was possible that trying to dry his back, even with the towel slung over
his shoulder, would hurt him.  And the towel was a big one, and heavy for
someone with a sore shoulder. It might be an invitation to more, it might
just be the truth, he might just like getting rubbed.  I didn't care.  He
asked.  I would be glad to oblige.

                               *********

     DORM CHAP 3

     I walked over to him and took the towel out of his hands. This left
him standing naked and dripping wet on the floor of the shower room.  His
glistening body was smooth and the skin was slightly flushed from the hot
shower.  His dick was exactly as it had been all evening, flaccid, slightly
engorged, standing out just a little, swinging like a sausage attached to
his body, his balls hanging loose and large in his sack.

     I stepped around behind him, where I had a clear view of his smooth
back and his round, mellon buns, and began to dry him with the big towel.
It was soft and very thirsty, and I rubbed his back with it, up and down,
and then down around his buns and around the backs of his legs.  I began my
way back up again, drying between his legs.  He stood with them slightly
apart, I could see his balls swinging in their sack between those muscular
boy-thighs.  I moved the towel all the way back up to his neck, and began
to dry his hair, rubbing his head and massaging the nape of his neck.

     "Turn around," I told him when his back was dry,

     "and I  will get the rest of you."

     He did, without a word, and with seeming no embarrasment or
hesitation.  His dick was the same, showing no definite sign one way or the
other to give me my cue.  I began to dry the front of his body, begining
with his face and neck, and working my way slowly down his chest, spending
a good bit of time on his nipples and chest.  I dried off his belly and got
to his crotch.  I bypassed the decision, and began to dry his legs and his
ankles.  I began back up again on the insides of his legs and thighs, and
he spread his legs a little more.  I began to dry his balls and crotch, and
for a little while he just stood there, taking it.

     Then he moved his hand down over mine where I was drying  him and
took the towel out of my hands. 

     "Let's go back to the  room," he said. 

     "I really need that body rub you are supposed to be so good at."  He
smiled and took the towel and wrapped it loosely around his body, so that
when he walked his dick swung out into the open.  He went to the door of
the shower room and opened it into the hall and began to walk back to my
room, his dick swinging in and out of cover under the toga made by the
towel loosely draped over his body.

     When we got into the room, he dropped the towel to the floor.  I got a
fresh, dry one out of the closet and spread it out on the bed, and told him
to lie down on it.

     "I will give you that massage now," I told him.  He lay on his belley,
his round mellon buns sticking up in the air, his legs slightly spread so
that I could see his loose, relaxed ball sack between his legs on the bed.
I went to the chest of drawers and took a bottle of olive oil out of the
top drawer.  It was smooth and good for lubrication in a rub down, and in
case I wound up having to eat some, it was good for me.  I had eaten too
much massage oil in my years there in the dorms, and massage oil and baby
oil tended to make me sick to my stomach.  Olive oil didn't.

     Phil lay on the bed very relaxed, looking almost asleep.  I took some
of the oil onto my palms to warm it up, and then began to spread it out on
his smooth, olive skinned back.  His boy-body was smooth, hairless, the
skin soft and supple, the muscles very well defined for a boy his age.  I
began to work the oil into the skin and muscles of his neck, rubbing along
the long muscles and smoothing out the skin.  I could feel his relax under
my touch, as though he had been waiting for me to touch him, and now was
sure of himself.

     I poured a little more oil onto my palms and began to work the long
muscles of his back and shoulders, working all the way down and onto his
round, smooth, mound-like buns, and then over those buns and off them down
onto his thighs. He spread his legs a little, the inside of his thighs and
the area between his balls and crack still moist from the long hot shower.
His balls were still relaxed, the sack loose.  I began to rub on his
thighs, stroking all the way down to his calves on the outside, then
rubbing back up with my fingers lingering on the inside.  He spread his
legs a little more, offering me more of the sweet crack.

     I began to spend most of the time massage that butt, the buns, and the
crack. He began to respond, moving under my hands, his crotch rising to
meet my hands as they came up and approached his balls.  Each time, I would
move my hands around to the surface of his buns just before making definite
contact with his balls.  I kept this up for quite a while, until I noticed
that his dick was now quite large and was protruding from under his belly
out the side as he lay on the towel.  His ball-sack had constricted quite a
bit now, and his balls were pulled up tighter to his body.  He was moving
with a definite matching rhythm to my stroking of his buns and legs.

     "Turn over," I said to him. 

     "I want to do your front now."  I stepped back a little and poured
some more oil into my hands, making a show of not noticing the now almost
completely hard dick which bounced out from his body as he turned over.  He
made a definite motion of turning over facing me, showing his dick, rather
than the other way and hiding it for a moment.  He lay quietly on his back,
his dick sticking up into the air from his body, his eyes locked on to my
face.  I warmed the oil in my palms and began to rub it into his chest and
the front of his neck.  I spent a little bit of time on his smooth chest
and abdoment, especially around his nipples and belly button, using long,
stroking motions, coming closer and closer to his dick.  Finally I allowed
my oiled hands to brush it on the return stroke, but still without actually
taking it.

     I stepped back for a moment and reoiled my hands, warming the oil
again in my palms, and then began to rub his thighs from the front, taking
care to casually graze his balls and dick with the side of my hands on each
stroke. His dick was now completely hard, and was stupendous looking.  He
dick was full sized, but he was still thirteen, and therefore boy-sized.
That made his dick even more wonderful looking.

     As he gazed up and me with his soft, boy-beautiful eyes, the dark
lashes brushing his face and he blinked, the dark eyebrows setting off the
olive of his skin, I oiled my hands and again warmed a palm-ful of the
olive oil.  I began to rub it into his belly, this time making sure to get
a good bit of it onto his dick without actually holding it.  I could see
that his dick was throbbing now, and it was quite well lubricated with the
olive oil.  All that remained was to get some onto his balls and sack,
which I did at the same time.  He closed his eyes and began to move
slightly in rhythm to my massage.

     I took his dick into my oiled palm, and at the same time took his ball
sack into my other hand.  He was already quite ready.  I began to gently
massage his dick and balls, moving them in opposite motions, the balls
being rubbed in one direction, the dick in the other.  I rubbed his dick up
against his well oiled belly, picking up more lubricant, and then wrapped
my and around it and began to stroke it properly, all the while playing
with his balls and ball-sack.  He began to moan, and his balls climbed up
into his crotch as if they were getting ready to explode.  They were
swollen with a massive load of boy jiz ready to cum out.

     He opened his eyes and looked right into mine.  At the same time his
dick, which was already as big as I thought it could possibly get, began to
swell and throb even more.  His balls began to vibrate, and the next thing
I knew, load after load of fresh, white, creamy, sweet boy-cum was pumping
out of his hard, swollen, throbbing boy-penis.  I kept my hand stroking
gently, and his dick kept squirting and squirting.  It felt as if it were
going on for 10 minutes at least, but I guess it must have been 45 seconds
or a minute.  But what a minute.

     Jiz shot all over the place.  The first massive explosion shot over
his face as he lay on his back and hit the wall behind the bed.  I leaned
over in fascination, and the next load hit me square in the face, some of
it getting onto my lips, which I wasted no time in licking into my mouth.
The next load hit me square in the chest, and dripped down onto his chest
and belly.  The next load hit his chest, and then they began to taper off,
the last four loads oozing out onto his abdomen.

     I set his dick down onto his belly and began to rub it with a circular
pressure against his body and he shot four more little loads off against
himself.

     He opened his eyes and looked right up into mine.  His eyes held mine
completely.  I didn't even know where I was.

     "I guess I'd like to stay for a few days.  Is there room in here for
both of us?" he asked me.

     I guess you know the answer.