Date: Sat, 24 Oct 1998 22:41:43 -0400
From: Greg Eckhardt <eckhardt@injersey.com>
Subject: Dorm Shower Lover

This is my first submission to the Nifty Archive.  It is the first of six
parts.  If you enjoy it, let me know and I will post the others.  I would
appreciate any and all comments.  My e-mail address is
eckhardt@injersey.com.

Please note that this story is a work of fiction.  Any resemblence to
actual persons or events is coincidental.  It is intended for adults who
are not offended by descriptions of male/male sexuality.  Do not read it if
you are under legal age in your region or if you are offended by such
material.

You are free to copy this story for your own use, but please do not modify
it in any way or republish it in any forum.  Thank you.

	 *          *          *          *          *          *

Dorm Shower Lover
by NJSword

Chapter 1

It was an unusually quiet weekend at Rutgers University.  No parties were
planned at any of the fraternities, and mid-terms were still a couple of
months away.  Most of the students had cleared out after their last classes
on Thursday night or Friday morning, and headed back to their various
family homes.  Busch Campus felt like a ghost-town, with harsh winter winds
blowing scattered leaves across the empty parking lots and deserted
commons.  The only remaining inhabitants were dedicated scholars,
out-of-state residents, and those simply too lazy to leave.

I belonged to the last category.  To me, it seemed like a waste of effort
to make the hour- long drive home. My roommate, whose hometown was about
the same distance away from the college as mine, went home every weekend
without fail.  Unlike him, I usually stayed on campus all week, only
heading home for holidays and breaks.  I didn't see the point of going
home every single weekend.  For one thing, I positively loathe driving in
the horrendous traffic that, unfortunately, characterizes our excessively
urban little state.  When I do go home, inevitably I find myself either
bored with nothing to do or occupied by any number of tedious chores
thought up by my parents.  For the sake of my sanity, I chose to stay in
the dorm, where I could hang out and relax and maybe put in some extra
study time if I felt motivated.  It was also better for my social life,
since all of my friends remained on campus through the weekend too.

So instead of fleeing for the hills like most everyone else on that
particular weekend, I settled in for a relaxing couple of days.  Last
night, I had gone to the movies with a friend from my English composition
class, but tonight I decided to stay in.  It seemed like sacrilege not to
go to a club or a party on a Saturday night, but I felt like playing it
low-key.

After having spent most of the day at the Sci-Med library doing research
for my psychology term paper, I was worn out, so I headed back to my dorm
room in Davidson A.  It took all my remaining effort to cart my dirty
clothes over to the laundromat in the adjacent building.  In between loads,
I trudged back to my room and collapsed in front of the TV.  Then,
following a late supper, I nestled in to read the next few chapters in the
novel we were covering for Spanish Literature.

My eyes started to droop around 11 o'clock, so I decided to call it a
night.  On a whim, I opted to take a shower to relax myself for bed.
Gathering my gear together, I crossed the hall outside my dorm room to the
communal restroom/shower facility which was almost directly opposite.

It was a surprise to hear the water running in the shower as I entered.  I
thought the place would be deserted like the rest of the dorm.  As I
circled around behind the urinals and toward the shower area, I could see
steam billowing out around the curtain covering the large portal.  Someone
was taking a very hot shower.  I set my towel and toiletries on the high
shelf just outside the showers and hung my robe on the hook beneath it.
Taking only my soap and shampoo, I pushed aside the curtain and passed
through the opening.

If I was surprised to see anyone in the showers at that particular time, I
was astounded at the particular person it was.  Since his back was to me, I
didn't immediately identify him, but as I was stepping into the open shower
chamber he turned sideways to me, and I got a glimpse of his profile.  I
knew instantly who it was: Jeffrey Bloom.

Ever since the first day of last semester, when I noticed him moving into
the room right next to mine, I had been powerfully attracted to Jeff, and
with good reason.  Just under 6', he had a well-developed but not overly
muscular build.  His boyishly cute face sported a goatee, which I found
incredibly sexy.  Although I usually don't notice a man's eyes, his
got my attention: I'd never before seen eyes so incredibly, strikingly
blue.  His short raven hair was perpetually tousled, and he was always
dressed casually, in T-shirts and jeans or sweatpants.  It was a carelessly
masculine style that only enhanced his allure.  Furthermore, he was
possessed of that aggressive straight-boy attitude, which was at once
slightly intimidating and curiously appealing.  All in all, he was damn
near perfect, in my humble queer opinion.

Despite my attraction, I hadn't gotten to know Jeff much beyond saying "Hi"
to him in the hallway.  He was a third year engineering student, and I was
a sophomore liberal arts major at Rutgers College, so we had virtually
nothing in common academically.  My roommate, Dave, who was also an
engineer, hung around with Jeff occasionally, but I shied away from him.

Although I was drawn to Jeff, I had avoided striking up a friendship with
him because I knew it would only be masochism to put myself in a situation
where I saw him a lot.  I couldn't stand it if I started to really fall for
him, and there was no reciprocation of my feelings.  Besides, I'm a very
reserved guy in general, definitely not one to force myself on somebody.
In the meantime, however, I hadn't allowed anything to stop me from
indulging myself with irredeemably obscene sexual fantasies about him.

Once I recognized Jeff as the other occupant of the shower on that quiet
night, I was seized by two equally powerful but seemingly contradictory
emotions.  On the one hand, I was extremely titillated at the thought of
seeing his gorgeous body in its naked entirety.  Recalling that image would
add a delicious touch of realism to my fantasies.  Up until that point, I
had only once or twice happened to see his bare torso as he passed me in
the hall on his way to the showers, but I had never chanced to be in the
showers at the same time as he was to see him completely nude.  On the
other hand, I was also terribly uptight about the entire scenario.  Sexual
situations involving men that I find attractive always make me somewhat
uneasy, but perhaps it was momentary clairvoyance that intensified the
feeling.

Quickly, I moved across the open chamber to the shower head on the opposite
wall and two down from the one Jeff was using.  By force of habit, I stood
to the side of the nozzle as I turned on the faucet and waited for the
water to reach a comfortable temperature.  Then I slid under the spray and
savored the sensation of warmth coursing over my body.  Grabbing the soap
from the small dish beneath the shower head, I started scrubbing my chest.

Trying to be nonchalant and unobtrusive (though probably failing miserably
on both counts), I rotated my upper body in Jeff's direction.  Under the
pretext of soaping up my right arm and shoulder, I observed him out of the
corner of my eye.  I was not disappointed.  At that moment, his back was to
me and I was rewarded with an unobstructed view of his magnificent rear
end.  Actually, his whole physique was flawless.  Broad, well-toned
shoulders tapered down to a narrow waist and shapely bubble-butt.  His legs
were solid and hairy, beautiful to behold.  His skin was pale, smooth and
unblemished.  I found myself growing instantly aroused.

I snapped back in the other direction when he reached down to soap his
lower legs and his eyes glanced my way.  Hoping that he hadn't noticed my
watching him, I busily sudsed my left arm and stomach.  I kept my eyes
averted for as long as I could bear, then as I bent slightly to scrub my
thighs, I angled my head and neck around to bring him into view.  Jackpot!
Jeff had turned completely around beneath the shower nozzle to rinse his
back and butt.  I now had a full view of the front of his glorious form.
He seemed to stare blankly off into space as he washed himself, so I
allowed my furtive gaze to appraise him from head to foot.

I had had the opportunity to appreciate the well-defined lines of Jeff's
upper body previously.  At the time, I had thought that just seeing his
sculpted pectorals, with their small, amber nipples and downy carpet of
brown fuzz, and his smooth belly, with its subtle washboard ripples and
planes, was delightful enough.  But that was only half of him.  He was at
least as breathtaking from the waist down, with his firm, hairy legs and
his most impressive attribute dangling between them.  Beholding all of Jeff
like that, seemingly displayed for my exclusive enjoyment, was fantastic,
in the true meaning of the word.

My eyes were inevitably drawn to his cock.  Seeing it for the first time
was like the answer to an unspoken question.  Although I didn't imagine it
grew much larger when erect, it was at least 7 inches long and 6 inches
around while flaccid.  A perfect fleshy cylinder, it was unmarred by
grossly bulging veins or undue scarring from his circumcision.  The faint
scarlet fringes of the corona flared out just enough from the smooth bronze
shaft to give definition to the velvety pink head.  The whole was rooted in
a bed of densely curled pubic hair and accompanied by proportionately-sized
balls, which were themselves sparsely fuzzed.  I found myself staring in
hypnotic fascination at the entire array of his equipment as it swayed and
bounced beneath his self-ministrations.  My own dick grew rock-hard.

Just then, I realized that Jeff was looking right at me.  His expression
told me that he knew I was ogling him shamelessly.  Reflexively, I whirled
my head around, plunging it beneath the streaming water.  As I sputtered
water out of my mouth and wiped my eyes, I heard him shout, "What are you
looking at, faggot?"

Immediately, an instinctive fight or flight reaction took over.  I felt my
heart race and my stomach constrict in knots.  My erection melted.  When I
turned towards him and spoke back, my voice cracked, betraying my fear and
my guilt: "Nothing!"

"Don't lie, queer boy," he shot back.  "I saw you staring at me.  You were
getting turned on, weren't you?"

I was too petrified to respond.  I couldn't lie my way out of this
predicament, and I didn't know what he would do if I confirmed the truth.

"Well?" he demanded, striding across the shower chamber toward me.

I was speechless for a long while, the roar of the showers deafening my
ears.  Finally, I caved in, whispering, "Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, I was watching you," I conceded, speaking louder.

"And my body turns you on, doesn't it?" he pursued, with an ambiguous
smirk.

"Yes," I admitted, but I was not utterly defeated.  My voice had grown
stronger, and I looked him in the eye with a measure of defiance.

Jeff's demeanor abruptly shifted from outright aggression to borderline
amusement.  He snorted as if at a private joke and said, "I suspected you
were a homo, but I never thought I'd find out this way."

"So?" I said, cautiously.  "What are you going to do?"

"Nothing.  But you're going to do something for me."

"What?"  I asked, growing even more apprehensive.

"Don't worry," he replied, with a self-satisfied sneer on his face.  "It's
not bad.  You'll probably enjoy it, in fact."  He paused for a second, and
I noticed that his hand was now openly caressing his crotch.  "You're
going to give me a blowjob."

I was so shocked, I didn't say anything.  I just watched dumbly as he
closed the gap between us, until he was standing only a few feet away.  By
now, he was fisting a fully erect cock.  Gesturing towards it with his free
hand, he murmured seductively, "Go ahead.  You know you want to."

Still wracked by the terror he had provoked a few moments ago, I was
nonetheless tempted.  I had wanted Jeff beyond words, and here he was for
the taking.  It seemed demeaning to submit to him that way, but this was
the fulfillment of my fantasies.

Hesitantly, I extended a trembling hand towards him.  Removing his own
hand, Jeff allowed me to wrap my fist around his engorged member.  I began
to stroke it jerkily.  He didn't say anything, but merely sighed softly and
spread his legs a little wider.

As I felt my desire rise and conquer my fear, I started to massage Jeff's
cock more confidently.  While one hand was caressing and rubbing his dick,
I reached the other underneath to gently knead his balls.  At this, he
threw back his head and began to moan audibly.

That was all the encouragement I needed.  I kneeled down in front of him,
heedless of the hard tile floor beneath my knees, and confronted his cock.
Still fisting it with one hand, I put my mouth near the head and flicked my
tongue across it.  The small bead of pre-cum that had accumulated there had
a salty-sweet taste, which only made me hunger for more.  I opened my mouth
and took the entire head in, licking the sensitive frenulum with my tongue
from beneath.  I continued to stimulate Jeff that way until he was
literally trembling from the ripples of pleasure.  I could hear him
breathe, "Oh, yeah!  Oh, yeah!"  over and over again.

When he put his hands on the back of my head and began thrusting into my
mouth with his hips, I took my hand off his cock and opened my lips wide
enough to accommodate his entire shaft.  I tried to take it in down to the
base, but as his pubic hair tickled my nose, I started to choke and had to
back off.  I found I could comfortably swallow about two-thirds of the
length.

We settled into a rhythm: He would thrust into my mouth for a few moments
and back off.  I would then slide my lips up and down his dick for a few
moments, using the rough surface of my tongue to stimulate the underside of
his cock-head.  Then I would pause to allow him to begin thrusting again.
All the while, he was moaning and grunting with pleasure.

I had begun masturbating my own throbbing cock with one hand, while the
other gripped and massaged his tight butt.  With such intense excitement, I
came quickly, spurting my load onto the wet tile floor between Jeff's legs.

Jeff continued to thrust strongly for a few minutes longer.  Then I could
feel his ass muscles convulse as his orgasm began.  At the same time he
pushed my head down all the way onto his cock, I grabbed his butt with both
hands and pulled him in deeper still.  My face was literally buried in his
pubic hair as his cum shot down the back of my throat.  One final
triumphant "Oh, Yeah!" came from Jeff as the last volley erupted from his
cock.

In the ensuing moments, Jeff seemed to collapse, his hands dropping
exhaustedly to my shoulders.  He lacked even the energy to withdraw his
dick from my mouth.  I used the opportunity to lick his cock-head clean of
the last traces of semen.  He jerked slightly as my tongue touched his
still-sensitive organ, then removed it from my mouth.  When he took his
hands off my shoulders, I stood up, flexing my stiff and sore knees.

A blissful smile came over Jeff's face and he said, "That was great.  You
are a fantastic cocksucker.  My girlfriend never does it that good, and she
won't even swallow."

I grinned foolishly, but didn't say anything.

"You must have done that a lot to get so good at it," he continued.

"Not really," I replied.  "I just enjoy doing it, and I know how it feels
so I'm better at it."

"I guess what they say is true then.  Gay guys do give better blowjobs
because they're guys and know how it feels."

"I guess so."

"Say, listen.  Would you, like, be willing to do me again sometime?"

Uh oh, I thought.  Now, it gets complicated.  He was straight and he had a
girlfriend.  He just wanted to use me to get his rocks off.  I wasn't sure
if I wanted to be his personal male whore.  As much as I lusted after him,
I retained some self-respect.  To avoid conflict in the present, I just
murmured noncommittally, "Sure, if you want."

"Great," he said enthusiastically and then returned to the still-running
shower head across the chamber.

Briefly, I watched him as he washed and rinsed off again, then resumed my
own shower.  I stood beneath the pounding water and tried to sort out what
had just happened.  The aftermath of the sudden fear and equally sudden
sexual arousal felt like a horrendous hangover.  I was drained emotionally
and physically.  It was a struggle just to soap up my body again.

As I bent down to the floor for the shampoo, Jeff was turning off the
faucet.  "See you later!" he shouted, retreating out the door.

"So long!" I yelled after him and finished my shower in solitary
reflection.