Date: Sat, 5 Mar 2011 01:12:00 -0800 (PST)
From: Neo Nemo <tse_kz74@yahoo.com>
Subject: Dorm Room Part IV

This story is a translation of the Russian original, with names and
vernacular made to sound as American as possible for ease of reading by an
internatonal English-speaking audience.  However, keep in mind that it's
set in Russia, and make allowances accordingly. The Russian original was
first published as a series of journal entries on a Russian gay meeting
site qguys.ru.  Please also note that English is not my native or even
first foreign langauge.

P.S. Just to dispel any confusion that may have crept in, this story is
pure fiction, even if parts of it may be based on actual events.  Which
parts - that's for me to know, and for some you to find out, eventually :-)



THE DORM ROOM PART IV


December Jolts

     "Two programming language papers due, one information science paper,
and three on algorithm theory: I was nearing the end of my rapidly fraying
rope!  And it's December 1st tomorrow already," such were my defeatist
thoughts as I sat one fine Saturday evening red- and bleary-eyed staring
blankly into the computer screen, with only a couple of thick syllabi,
textbooks, a plate with sandwiches – or, rather, crumbs from sandwiches
- and the 5th cup of strong coffee in as many hours, to keep me company.

     "Enough is enough," I finally decided.  "All that caffeine is making
me jittery.  There are some lucky bastards out there who can drink 10 cups
of the stuff straight to cram in a crunch and get away with it, but I'm not
one of them, damn it.  After all, I tasted my fist cup of coffee only here
at the U. But I quickly got on with the program; all those all-nighters
I've had to pull made sure of that.  It seems all I do is cram to the point
of exhaustion for endless papers and exams, even with all the help the guys
are always willing to throw my way.  Maybe I should get going while the
going is good and try to transfer to another school while I'm still a
freshman?  But if I leave and can't get transferred somewhere else, I'll
get drafted, and dodging it is the eternal preoccupation of all the 18-19
year olds, or rather, the males.  Do I or do I not like my major, I guess
that's the question.  I spend at least 8 hours a day in the labs and
lecture halls, then toil away on the computer till 3-4 in the morning,
especially before quiz hell weeks, midterms and the rapidly approaching
finals, sometimes staying up through the night.  So I'm definitely
beginning to flag.  Food for thought, right there.  But... when lines of
code you are writing start coalescing into a nice piece of software that
works like a whistle, you feel like you're on cloud nine.
Blah-blah-blah... creating something out of
nothing... blah-blah-blah... Okay, what've I just been thinking about?  Did
I just draw a blank?  No way, that's it, tomorrow is Sunday, I need a break
in the worst way, so no cracking the books tomorrow, no siree, I'm going
out and having a blast.  Who with, though? The boys are gone home for the
weekend, Art is nowhere to be seen, Dennis is busy at work.  And it's too
late to try to piggyback on somebody else's plans for tomorrow.  I guess I
can call Valerie – Val; haven't seen her since Thursday, been missing
her."

    The computer turned off and the torture implements – i.e. books and
class notes – shoved in the drawer, I headed the hell out from the room.

    "Still, November hasn't really been all bad: I've gotten back on track
with my grades, begun taking better care of my body – gym on Tuesdays
and Saturdays and swimming on Thursdays – with early results in the form
a four-pack for now, already in evidence.  I've also finally done the deed
and kissed my virginity goodbye!  Make no mistake, it was awesome, but I
guess all the while I was focusing not so much on the incredible sensations
flooding through my body, but on the fear of getting caught in the act,
it's being the dorm and all.  Val seems to like it fine, though, so we've
been doing it regularly either in my room or hers.  Sure, it would be sweet
if we could get hooked up for a nice quiet place where we could have some
much needed privacy to enjoy the romance, but that's just wishful thinking
in a dorm."

    Reminiscing rather fondly now on how we'd almost been caught red-handed
– as it were – by Val's roommate the other day – "Although, come
to think of it, she may have caught a glimpse of me trying to hurriedly
shove the freshly used rubber under the bed," I chuckled, "If she did, then
Val sure has one super tactful rommie," – I headed to the kitchen in
search of something to munch on. To my whoops of near-ecstasy I saw that
Dennis had made pilau – Middle-Eastern-style risotto – for dinner.
One of his relatives was a chef, and that's how Dennis came to learn to
cook finger-lickingly good pilau.  He must have been waiting for me to have
dinner together as the food stood untouched.  "I should go get him.  He has
work early tomorrow, so it's early taps for him tonight."

    Dennis wasn't in his room.  I turned around, stepped to the bathroom
door and knocked.  No reply came from within. "Where *is* he?" I was at a
loss what to think and pushed the door, which gave in, as it wasn't locked.

    "Dennis, you there..."

    Dennis *was* there.  He'd just stepped out from the shower and was
still undressed, as in nude, as in without-a-stitch-on-naked!  It was the
first time I'd ever seen him naked, since it wasn't his habit to flaunt his
body by parading around uncovered.  Dennis was standing with his back
turned to me, toweling his hair off.  Water droplets were cascading down
the ridges and valleys of his broad powerful back to the narrow waist,
pooling in the dimples over the coin-bouncingly firm buttocks.
    He turned around to face the door when he'd heard its creaking.  Oh!
My! God!  Full frontal, the view was even more ogle-worthy!  The same damn
water droplets were rivuleting down the gym-honed pecs, circling around the
beautifully erect nipples, down the wonderfully chiseled abs to the
beautiful muscular thighs, and if course, the endowment.  "Jey-sus, can a
dick really be *this* huge?  And he's completely soft.  Is he bigger than
Paul?  No contest there.  Am I jealous?  Nah, not really, just stunned the
hell out!  Why am I even frigging thinking who's bigger at all?! I have to
let Dennis know I'm here, explain that the door wasn't locked, that I
didn't mean it.  Why is he so close to me, crowding me out?" were my
fever-pith thoughts.

    "Dennis, I'm really sorry, man.  I know I needed to..." and Dennis was
already almost flush against me showing no sign of stopping there, making
me inch back to the already closed door, "...wait for permission to enter.
I di-didn't mean to barge in.  Sor-r-ry."

    My retreat was stopped by the door handle – the traitor – pushing
into the small of my back.  Dennis was just an inch away from me, looking
down at me in a weird way.  "Like a wolf, the big bad wolf, looking at a
baby deer!  He smells so amazingly fresh.  Just like the day we met for the
first time, in the same bathroom," I thought, not daring to look at
anything but my feet.

    "Dennis, please don't..."

    I could finish the sentence I'd started since Dennis closed the
remaining inch between us, and gently touched – caressed! - my chin with
his left forefinger, causing my whole body to tremble.  Then he – very
carefully – grabbed my chin with his fingertips and pushed my face up.
The look in his eyes!  And immediately it all flooded back to me, all the
feelings from that fateful first bathroom encounter, compelling me to
surrender to him, give myself to him, every ounce of my being – a
strange undecipherable imperative.  His calm eyes that had already decided
everything for you projecting utter confidence that everything would be as
they wanted and commanded.

    Dennis took a couple of seconds to look at and study me.  My heart was
beating deafeningly a mile a minute so the neighbors must have heard it all
the way up and down the hall!  Suddenly, he covered my lips with his in a
tickle of a gentle kiss, and immediately my legs turned to jelly. Dennis,
feeling this, snaked his right arm around my back and hugged me tight.  I
was rushing in pulsating waves on the heat of his body, and his clean smell
quelled my already feeble attempts to say something to him to get him to
stop.

    Dennis tore his lips from mine for a fraction of an inch, exhaling at
me, burning my sensitized lips and skin with his hot breath, then locking
his lips back on mine, this time at full force.  His tongue penetrated my
mouth, caressing my tongue and doing wonderful tricks such that I'd never
even imagined existed!  A slightly above whisper moan escaped from me when
his burning hot hand crawled under my T-shirt and felt up my tummy.  "God,
what's happening?! No, no, this isn't right! No-o!"  I panicked.

    "No, Dennis, stop, please!" I gingerly put up my hands against his
chest to push him away, even though if Dennis had wanted to, he would have
broken through my little-more-than-token resistance easily.

    Not grasping what'd just happened and what I was doing, and shot out
from the bathroom, grabbed haphazardly my boots and coat and fish-tailed it
out the door.

    That night I spent at Valerie's, trying to make head or tail of what
the hell had been done to me, focusing on this to the exclusion of
everything else.  Val, to her credit, did try to get me to calm down and
talk to her, but quickly gave up her futile struggle and just made me my
favorite lemon tea.  Which, surprise surprise, didn't really do the trick
either.  I finally came down from my agitation only when the dawn was
gearing to break and fell into restive sleep sometime after 7 AM...alone on
the couch.