Date: Fri, 19 Mar 1999 22:30:02 -0500
From: Greg Eckhardt <eckhardt@injersey.com>
Subject: Dorm Shower Lover - Part 5

Hello All,

After a long delay, here is the fifth part of my story.

As always, please send me any comments you may have.  I love to hear from
guys who have read my stuff.  My e-mail address is eckhardt@injersey.com.

Please note that this story is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance 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 area 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 Greg Eckhardt

Chapter 5

Life was looking good.  My classes were going well.  My social life was
going well.  I had even succeeded in putting Jeff behind me (for the most
part).  If I didn't exactly have a boyfriend in his place, then at least I
had a more realistic prospect of one.  Yes, it was definitely a happy time.

I should have realized that it couldn't last.  As always, Murphy bided his
time with watchful patience, preparing to wreak his havoc at just the
right, or wrong, moment.  Duped into unwarranted confidence by the
seemingly auspicious nature of my circumstances, I carried on in blissful
ignorance.  How was I to know of the dark plans that my old nemesis had in
store for me?

				   * * *

After the assignation with Mitch, I had returned to the dorm in the early
morning hours to find John still plugging away at his research project.  He
barely mumbled a greeting to me when I came in the door.  Despite his
preoccupation, I was tempted to make a dramatic announcement of my nascent
romance.  Thrilled by this unexpected development in my heretofore wretched
existence, I simply had to tell someone, and he was the only person handy.

Since John did not know that I was gay, however, making such a proclamation
did not seem like a wise course of action.  The news would have been a
double surprise to him, and probably not a pleasant one.  Deciding that it
was by no means the appropriate moment for an impromptu coming out scene, I
bottled up my excitement and slipped quietly into bed.  Naturally, I didn't
sleep very well that night.

The next couple of days were delicious torture.  I stayed in my room as
much as possible, waiting for the phone to ring.  Every bleat of the
electronic tone set my heart beating with nervous anticipation.  I pounced
on the inflammatory appliance, like a famished feline snaring the last
remaining rodent on earth.  To my chagrin, three of four calls that came in
were for John.  The other was some anonymous woman hawking magazine
subscriptions.  I slammed the receiver down on that perky bitch.

Of course, much as it irked me, I had to leave the room occasionally,.  I
would gladly forgo food, but I couldn't, in good conscience, miss any of my
classes.  That was my principal reason for being here, after all.

Upon returning from any unavoidable trip into the outside world, I would
immediately badger John, "Are there any messages for me?"

His usual reply was a phlegmatic, "No."

That changed Tuesday evening while I was out at my Spanish literature
class.  When I came back, John offhandedly informed me that Karen had
called.  I phoned her back right away.  After the pleasantries, she started
in on a detailed dissertation about the dinner with her family.

Essentially, it had been a disaster.  What began in brittle politeness
quickly deteriorated into outright hostility.  Her father had been
overbearing and her mother, manipulative.  Joe had been defensive and
obstinate.  Karen herself had ended up shrieking at everyone in
frustration.  I never did learn precisely what had triggered the whole ugly
incident.

Stifling the urge to blurt out my news, I tried to listen sympathetically.
Karen had been mediating between her parents and her boyfriend for almost
two years, but the warring factions just didn't have any common ground.  I
couldn't offer any constructive advice, so I murmured soothing platitudes.

Eventually, Karen ranted herself out.  By now, I felt somewhat abashed to
bear good tidings while she was so distraught.  I hesitated to say
anything, but she could sense my agitation.  She pumped me persistently
until at last I relented.

Rationalizing that she might derive some vicarious pleasure from my joyful
news, I told her all about Mitch.  There was no way I could hide my
exhilaration as I described him and recounted some of our lengthy
conversation.  Of course, I left out the seamier details of our encounter,
but I nonchalantly mentioned that we had made out in the car, without
elaborating.

Karen was sincerely glad for me.  Even if she didn't know the entire Jeff
saga, she was certainly aware that I had been feeling depressed and lonely
for a long while.  She was pleased that my dating life had finally taken a
turn for the better.  My account seemed to boost her morale, so I felt a
little less guilty.  After exchanging some other trivia and reaffirming our
study-date on Thursday night, we said goodbye and hung up.

Chatting with Karen put me more at ease.  It was a wonderful relief simply
to talk about Mitch and my burgeoning feelings for him.  Thereafter, while
I remained somewhat anxious, I was no longer a candidate for psychiatric
intervention.

He called the next evening, when I happened to be in residence.
Unfortunately, John was also present, so I had to be circumspect.

"Hello," I said, having grabbed the phone on its first ring.

"Hi, Craig?" came his mellow drawl.

"Yeah, Mitch.  How are you?"  My voice quavered a little, but I didn't
think that it was audible enough for him to notice.

"Great.  How 'bout yourself?"

"I'm good, thanks."

"Glad to hear it.  Listen, I had a really nice time Saturday night."

"Yeah, me too," I said softly.

"You have company?" he asked, picking up on my subdued tone.

"Yeah."

"Roommate?"

"Bingo!" I said.

"Okay, I won't keep you then.  But do you want to get together again?"

"Definitely."

"Cool.  How's Friday night?"

"That's fine."  I'd clear my calendar for you.  If I had major surgery
scheduled, I'd postpone it.

"Do you want to do dinner and maybe a movie?"

"Yeah, I'd like that."  We could sit around and count grains of sand, as
long as I get to be with you.

"Okay, how about you meet me here at my place, and we take it from there?"

"Sounds good."  I'd do anything that you said.

"Let me give you directions, then."

Mitch rattled off his address and directions to get there.  His apartment
was off of College Avenue in a large house that had been converted into two
smaller dwellings.  It was easy to find.  I scratched the information down
on a piece of scrap paper.  When I was finished, I folded up the paper and
tucked it into my wallet for safekeeping.

"What time?" I asked.

"Seven o'clock?"

"Okay."

"Well, then," Mitch said briskly.  "I'll see you here on Friday at seven."

"That you will."

"Take it easy."

"You too.  Bye."

"B'bye."

I set down the phone gently, fighting an impulse to pirouette around the
room.  John gave me an odd look but didn't say anything.  I ignored him.
Now that Mitch and I had a definite date set, I was less nervous and more
excited.  Friday couldn't get here fast enough.

I floated buoyantly through the remainder of the week.  So chipper and
animated was I that my companions threatened to have me institutionalized.
Even I had to admit that my excessively cheerful mood was downright
nauseating, but I honestly didn't care.  Far too many times had I endured
other people's sickening giddiness when they were in the throes of
infatuation.  Now it was my turn.

In my Romantic Poetry class, I spoke up more in one day than I had in all
the rest of the semester combined.  As a rule, I was very quiet, speaking
only when queried directly.  For once, I felt I could truly relate to the
subject matter, so I let myself be heard many times.  Gesturing
theatrically, I descanted with an air of sophisticated familiarity.  You
would have thought that Shakespeare had composed his sonnets solely for me
and that Elizabeth Barrett Browning was my most intimate confidante.

I was so exceptionally ebullient that the professor called me aside at the
end of the session.  Dr. Persin beckoned me up to her desk as the other
students filed out noisily.  Studying me closely, she asked how I was
getting along in the class and how comfortable I felt with the material.
Despite my usual taciturnity, I did very much enjoy the lectures, which I
told her, and she knew that I had done well on the first hourly exam.
There didn't seem to be any point to the private causerie, but I humored
her with cordial pleasantries.

Actually, I liked Dr. Persin very much.  Besides being a gifted instructor
and brilliant literary critic, she was also a kindly and maternal woman who
took a genuine interest in her students.  It was nice to spend some time
talking with her outside the context of the class.

After a few minutes she let me go, shaking her head with amused
bewilderment.  As I walked out of the classroom, it occurred to me that
Dr. Persin had probably inferred that my aberrant behavior was the effect
of some mind-altering substance.  How was she to know that I was fluttering
around on a natural high?  I snickered to myself as I traipsed down the
hallway, drawing several curious stares.

When I returned to the dorm that night, following the study session with
Karen, I got a call from Brian.  With little preamble, he plunged right
into recounting the merry threesome's exploits in the big city.  Exactly as
planned, they had shopped the day away and then partied until dawn.  All in
all, they had enjoyed a most festive time.

Brian was particularly proud of his conquests.  Throughout the course of
the evening, he had flirted with scores of men at the various clubs that
the troupe had visited.  Two Latino boys were his ultimate prizes.  On
separate occasions, he had skulked off with each of them to sample their
wares, a fact which he dwelled on at great length.  His activities were no
surprise.  In my experiences with him, Brian had shown himself to be quite
the libertine, which was phrasing it very politely.

Alan and Chris had spent most of the night talking and dancing together.
Brian thought that there was something brewing between them, but I wasn't
convinced.  Although neither of them was as reserved as I was, they weren't
nearly as effusively extroverted as Brian either.  In all likelihood, they
had simply been disinclined to pursue any of the local guys for very
practical reasons of geography.

After all the fun and frolic, the three of them had crashed and recuperated
at the overnight hostel.  The next day, they had relaxed over a late and
leisurely brunch before returning, with some reluctance, to the vast
wasteland of suburban New Jersey.  They'd been exhausted, but thoroughly
pleased by their adventure.  If it hadn't been for my own propitious
happenstance, I would have been oozing envy at having missed out.

Feeling smug, I interrupted Brian's breathless narrative to give my report.
Fully aware that I was playing a game of sexual one-upmanship with him, I
nevertheless related every last pornographic detail of my automotive tryst
with Mitch.  Brian squealed gleefully.  He adored gossip, the more
salacious the better.

I almost regretted telling him, because I knew that it would be broadcast
into the ear of every queen he could get hold of, but I just couldn't keep
the news to myself any longer.  No doubt taking notes for the press release
he would issue later, Brian listened raptly, tossing out the occasional
question to keep me gushing.  I jabbered on obligingly until he must surely
have felt as if he had been there in the car with us.

I wrapped up my erotic memoir by saying that Mitch and I would be getting
together on Friday.  That announcement elicited a "You go, girl!" cheer of
encouragement from Brian.  He made me promise to give him a full recap when
the four of us met for our regular Saturday gathering at the Den.  Only
after I had sworn to do so did he allow me to hang up.

The conversation with Brian had the virtue of satisfying my compulsion to
tell all, but it had only further stoked my excitement.  Now I was even
more impatient.  If Friday didn't arrive soon, I felt sure that I would
burst apart from the emotions that I held so precariously in check.

				   * * *

As I drove over to College Avenue, my mind eddied with random, fragmentary
thoughts.  The radio blared with the jarringly discordant beat of some
dance mix, but my preoccupation relegated it to background noise.  If
anything, the music merely served to magnify my manic mood, but I was not
consciously aware of it.

All week long, Friday had seemed to be several aeons away.  Now here it
was.  Like a lioness stalking prey on the veldt, it had hidden stealthily
until I strayed nearby then ambushed me with startling suddenness.  As if I
had not had days to plan ahead, I'd found myself at the last minute rushing
around frantically to get ready.  Disregarding my desperate imprecations,
the clock had refused to stand still, but the final moments had telescoped
just enough that I was able to make it out the door by 6:30 PM.  Absently
pondering this apparent contradiction, I marveled that the perception of
time could be so fluid.  If nothing else, the idle reverie helped the ride
go more quickly.

As I had anticipated, I found Mitch's place with no difficulty.
Conveniently, there was an open parking space a short distance up the block
from his house.  Since I was distracted, it took me several tries to
complete the parallel parking maneuver.  (Even under ideal circumstances,
I'd never been very good at it.)  Once I had the car situated, I hurried
back down the street.

Mitch's apartment was on the second floor of a an aged, but well-maintained
townhouse.  Despite the minor delay, I still managed to present myself at
his doorstep with a few minutes to spare.  I let myself in the outer door,
as he had instructed, and made my way up the narrow staircase to his front
door.  Standing there for a moment, I took a deep breath to gain a measure
of composure.  When I knocked, Mitch answered almost immediately.

"Hey, Craig," he welcomed me, with a show of that perfect dentition.
"C'mon in."

It didn't seem possible, but he looked even better than I remembered.  With
that flawless complexion and those high cheekbones, Mitch definitely
belonged on the cover of a fashion magazine.  Casually but neatly dressed,
he wore black jeans, a white button-down shirt and loafers.  It was an
outfit that suited him gorgeously, of course.  Then again, he would appear
princely in anything from animal skins to a burlap sack.

His attire was little different from my own jeans, rugby shirt and
docksiders, but somehow I felt underdressed.  Next to him, I felt downright
homely.  As my insecurity threatened to rear up and consume me, I had to
remind myself that it was he who'd come on to me.  That thought didn't much
alleviate my anxiety, but it was no less a joy to see him again.

"Hi, Mitch," I replied with forcibly imposed placidity, as he ushered me
inside.

A cursory inspection revealed that the modest-sized living room was
lavishly furnished.  Arrayed with elegant antique furniture, ornately
framed photographs and sumptuous window treatments, the place looked as if
it had been professionally decorated.  That was unusual, to say the least.
The other graduate students that I knew subsisted at the poverty line,
occupying living quarters that resembled monastic cells in their austere
minimalism.  With an effort to keep myself from gaping, I refrained from
commenting on the incongruously opulent splendor of the apartment, but it
certainly was impressive.

"How're you doing?" Mitch asked affably, wrenching my attention back to
him.

"Fine, thanks.  And you?"

"Great.  I'm glad you could make it."

"Me too."

There was a fleeting pause as his emerald eyes held mine entranced.  It
seemed as if he might kiss me, but to my regret the moment passed without
consummation.  Consoling myself, I thought of what was likely to come in
the night ahead of us.

"So what are you hungry for?" he asked, broaching the heavily laden
silence.

"I don't know.  Whatever you want."

In truth, I was quite a finicky eater, but for Mitch I was inclined to be
flexible.  For him I would compel myself to feast on just about any
culinary obscenity that he might see fit to inflict on me, except maybe
escargot.  I couldn't abide that for anyone.

"How about Italian?" he suggested.

"I love Italian," I said sincerely.

That was a relief.  I was afraid he might suggest Chinese, which I
categorically detested.  Italian cuisine was actually my favorite.

"Great.  There's a restaurant around the corner."

"Oh, yeah.  That pizza place behind the student center, right?"

"Yeah, but they have other things too," he said, a touch defensively.

"No, that's fine.  I like that place."  On the assumption that we were
going Dutch, it was also in my price range: dirt cheap.

"Good, 'cause it's also in walking distance."

"Okay, let's go."

Mitch grabbed his jacket and we shuffled out the door.  The eatery, which
really was little more than a glorified pizzeria, was only a few blocks
over.  Adopting a leisurely pace and chitchatting along the way, we made it
there in a few minutes.

As we entered, Mitch informed the fellow behind the counter that we would
be eating in.  We were directed to seat ourselves in the adjacent dining
room.  Aside from the staff, the establishment was deserted, so we had our
choice.  I pointed to a table in the back corner, which we promptly
claimed.  Perusing the menus, which had been perched behind the condiments,
we quickly made our selections.  A few minutes later, the server came over
and we gave our orders.

We scarcely had time to settle ourselves before the food arrived.  Although
they were hardly gourmet in presentation, the entrees did boast extremely
generous portions.  Based on the pizza, which I'd had a few times in the
past, I expected the fare to be tasty if not palate-stirring.  This
preconception was borne out as I sampled my dish.

I proceeded to gorge myself on the heaping stack of lasagna, while Mitch
picked lightly at his plate of pasta primavera.  It made me self-conscious
that I ate so much so fast, but I couldn't help it.  I always had a
tendency to gobble my food when I was on edge.

First dates were especially stressful for me.  Because I was so very shy,
the classic fear of having nothing to say became amplified a hundred-fold.
Being with such an extraordinarily attractive guy made the situation even
worse.  It was only more pressure to try and impress him somehow.

Traitorously, my wit and charm had fled to parts unknown, abandoning me to
my own devices.  They had probably decided to stay home and rest up after
an exhausting week.  Dazzling Mitch with my engaging personality therefore
seemed highly improbable.  I wanted to be captivating and personable, but
instead all I felt was inept and tongue-tied.

Mitch resolved my dilemma with a repeat of the performance that he had
given when we met.  Actually, it was more like a continuation.  Starting
with the events of the past week, he rambled on about various aspects of
his life, with long digressions on the incidental topics that came up.
Interspersed with amusing anecdotes and colorful characters, his meandering
oratory was fairly entertaining, if sometimes repetitive.  At least it
spared me from having to manufacture clever dialogue in my anxious state.
It was also far preferable to awkward silence, so I was content to listen
and insert the appropriate response here and there.

At times through his discursion, Mitch touched on a subject that inspired
me to interject my own more lengthy commentary.  Courteously, he allowed me
to express my opinion then stepped in when I began to falter.  While I did
not contribute anything monumental to the conversation, I wasn't completely
passive either.  He still did most of the talking, but I felt somewhat
better.

During one of Mitch's protracted monologues, I mesmerized myself staring at
his handsome visage.  I began to daydream, remembering the interlude in the
car.  A semi-erection swelled painfully against the inside of my jeans.  My
awareness of the present snapped back when he asked me a question.  To my
embarrassment, I had no idea what he had just said.  Fortunately, the
waiter appeared at precisely that moment to inquire how we were doing, thus
rescuing me from a terrible faux pas.

We had long since finished eating, and I for one was ready to leave.  I
made a show of looking at my watch, which prompted Mitch to do the same.
Realizing how late it had gotten, he requested the check.

Without hesitation, he paid the entire bill when it came.  He also left a
generous tip.  I thanked him graciously, but it made me a tad
uncomfortable.  Knowing that Mitch was so well-off intensified the feeling.
I had no desire to be anyone's kept boy.  Still, my wallet appreciated the
break.  Now I would have extra spending money left over for the coming
week.

We strolled back to his house.  It was almost nine-thirty so we elected to
skip the movie.  There was nothing playing at the local multiplex that
either of us really wanted to see anyway.

When we returned to his apartment, we ensconced ourselves on the sofa,
leaving a respectable distance between us.  I sat up stiffly, trying to
touch the rich upholstery as little as possible.  Settled in comfortably,
Mitch did not notice my discomfiture as he continued the story of a skiing
expedition from last season.  As he wended the tale to its mildly amusing
conclusion, I laughed raggedly, all out of proportion to the humor of the
anecdote.  Why couldn't I relax?

After that, Mitch fell quiet for a few minutes, staring downward pensively.
Observing him out of the corner of my eye, I willed myself not to move
restlessly.  Then his gaze slid up to me, and he smiled enigmatically.
Only his eyes betrayed his smoldering ardor.

"Come closer," he said, patting the cushion beside him.  "You're too far
away over there."

Grinning shyly, I slid over until I was right next to him.  Mitch put his
arm over my shoulders and leaned in to kiss me.  I trembled slightly, but
this was what I'd been waiting for.  As we drew near to one another, his
now-familiar cologne, which had been a subtle leitmotif throughout the
course of the evening, intruded on my consciousness.

Putting my mouth to his, I kissed him eagerly.  Mitch responded with barely
restrained passion.  His lips were incredibly soft, in stark contrast to
the bristly roughness of his day's growth of beard.  We nuzzled each other
gently at first but with gradually increasing urgency.  Our heads tilted
back and forth in opposition as our mouths began to chew hungrily at one
another.  The room was utterly still save for the rush of our labored
breathing and the wet smacking sounds of our lips meeting and parting, over
and over again.

I pressed more closely against him, my hands snaking behind his torso to
hold him tightly.  In turn, Mitch wrapped his arms all around me, in a
crushing embrace.  With surprising strength, he pulled my body partially
over onto his, until I was sprawled halfway across his lap.  His hands
roamed over my back and down to my butt, firmly gripping my flesh.

Mitch pushed his tongue into my mouth and I greeted it warmly.  My own
tongue swirled around it for some time, studying its texture, then reversed
roles and nudged into his mouth.  He accepted it enthusiastically,
returning the treatment that I had dispensed.  Our lips mated with wild
abandon, as our tongues continued to spar back and forth.

We made out like that for a long while.  The erotic tension continued to
mount, until my cock strained for release from its painfully restrictive
confines.  Feeling his crotch thrust up against me, I knew that Mitch
shared my hyper- aroused state.

We were both ready to take it further, but we broke apart for a moment to
catch our breath.  I sat up and watched Mitch expectantly.  He grinned
naughtily.

Rising from the sofa, he took my hand and lifted me up with him.  Pulling
me along, he strode towards the open doorway that stood next to the front
entry.  Through the portal, a shadowy hallway led towards the front of the
house.  When he released my hand, I trailed behind him docilely.

Moving down the darkened hall, we bypassed several sealed doorways.
Another closed door stood at the end.  Mitch opened it and pushed inside.

He flipped on the light switch, illuminating a spacious bedroom.  Not
surprisingly, the chamber was as elegantly appointed as the other parts of
the dwelling.  Exquisite antiques stood on all sides.  Draped with a lovely
floral spread, a magnificent Victorian four-poster bed dominated the
tableau.  The whole conspired to set a scene out of a romance novel.

I walked over by the bed and waited for a moment, unsure what to do.  Mitch
circled around behind me to close the door then came over to stand face to
face with me.  Lightly stroking his hands up my arms, he looked into my
eyes with passionate intensity.  His hot breath steamed against my throat.
My heart fluttered with excitement and joy.

Mitch leaned in to kiss me, just once, before reaching down to my waist to
tug my shirt free of my jeans.  His hands crawled back up my chest to undo
the buttons below my chin.  Then, as I raised my arms cooperatively, he
pulled the shirt up and off my torso, casting it aside to the floor.  He
seemed a trifle vexed that I wore a T-shirt underneath, but he repeated the
motion until it too was gone.

The air was chilly on my exposed skin, causing the blond fleece on my chest
and arms to spring up defensively.  Mitch's hands seemed fiery hot as they
made contact with my flesh.  They roved over my body, delicately studying
every contour.

"Very nice," he murmured, combing his fingers through the hair on my chest.

After an extended interval of visual and tactile adoration, he reached back
down to my waist.  His fingers deftly undid the catch of my jeans and
lowered the zipper.  With a slight nudge, the pants dropped around my
knees.  My erection poked out obscenely, tenting the white cotton briefs.
A small dark spot showed where pre-cum had soaked through.

"Well, I guess somebody's happy," said Mitch with a husky laugh, as he
teased my crotch with a light caress.

I chortled tautly.

He withdrew a few steps to undress himself.  I watched his fingers work as
they unbuttoned the front of his shirt then the cuffs of his sleeves.
Loosening the garment from his jeans, he pulled it back and shrugged his
shoulders.  The shirt slid down his arms and to the floor, unveiling his
smooth, sculpted chest.

I was spellbound by his breathtaking male beauty.  His body was a Greek
statue incarnate.  Tapering down from broad shoulders to a slim waist, his
torso exhibited the ideal shape of the classical masculine form.  Against
his pale skin, the small roseate nipples stood out on the firm mounds of
his well- developed pectorals.  His belly was flat, the abdominal muscles
possessed of a pleasingly understated definition.  It was obvious that
Mitch worked out to keep his body toned, but he hadn't overdone it to the
point of grossly bulging musculature.  He was truly flawless.

Knowing that I observed him closely, he mimed an exaggerated performance of
self-worship.  His hands played over his ribcage, pausing to tweak his
nipples.  He sighed at the pleasure that the manipulations produced.  His
palms hovered downward over the plane of his stomach and then up his sides,
scarcely making contact with the skin.  Languorously, he repeated the
motion several times, his arms crossing and uncrossing as his hands skimmed
around in uneven circles.

Unable to shift my gaze, I stared at Mitch in hypnotic fascination.  My
pulse drummed rapidly and my breathing became a shallow pant.  Overcome by
lust, I began to paw at my fully engorged cock through the elastic fabric
of my underpants.

The corners of his mouth lifted in a slight smirk.  He was clearly pleased
with himself for having provoked such a reaction from me.  His arrogant
conceit was faintly irksome, but it could not diminish my desire for him.
I was utterly in thrall, unable to free myself from the carnal torture.

Continuing the impromptu striptease, Mitch pushed his hands down his belly.
His fingers glided over the narrow trail of pale hairs that disappeared
into his jeans.  They came to rest on the catch, lingering there for a time
to deliberately prolong my tormented anticipation.

At last, just as the cruel suspense threatened to derange me, he unhooked
the fastening and unhurriedly pulled down the fly.  Parting denim revealed
the protuberance of his own stiff dick as it jutted out through pale blue
boxer- briefs.  Although Mitch had pretended to toy with me indifferently,
it was plain to see that he was as powerfully aroused as I.

All out of patience, I pressed towards him roughly.  My hands grasped the
waist of his jeans and shoved them downward.  He didn't resist my sudden
initiative when I yanked down his underpants as well.  Pushing my own
briefs down around my knees, I grabbed him and pulled our bodies together.
Adding his strength to mine, Mitch clasped his arms around me and crushed
us even more tightly against each other.  Our mouths conjoined as our flesh
united.

Reflexively, I began to hump my crotch against his.  Driven by the same
instinct, Mitch ground his hips against mine in return.  Sheathed between
our bellies, two crossed swords fenced for supremacy.  Skin stuck moistly
to skin, until the cohesion of perspiration was offset by the lubrication
of overflowing pre-cum.  Our cocks began to coast smoothly beside and
around, over and against one another.  With his mouth clamped to mine I
could not moan aloud, so I hummed deep in my throat as our bodies writhed
together in frottage.

Coupled with the palpable excitement of the moment, the exquisite intimacy
was nearly enough to finish me, but I wasn't yet ready to surrender my
load.  I backed away abruptly, with a sharp intake of breath.  From the
flushed look on Mitch's face, I could see that he matched my precarious
state.

"Whoa, that was hot," he muttered.  "I was getting really close."

I said nothing but nodded curt agreement.

A flash of good-natured spite inspired me to recompense him for the way he
had so fiendishly goaded me earlier.  Before he could react, I collapsed to
my knees and imbibed the tip of his enflamed organ.  Mitch could only
clutch at my shoulders and moan helplessly as I worked my tongue all around
his cock-head.  Almost immediately, his body began to shudder as he verged
upon letting loose.  Loathe to end this prematurely, I withdrew as hastily
as I had begun.  He scowled at me in frustration.

Looking back up at him, I smiled impudently and whispered, "Paybacks are a
bitch."

He grinned and motioned as if to swat the side of my head, but I only felt
a slight breeze as his hand swept past my ear.

I had every intention of continuing to service his manhood, but I didn't
want to rush.  This was a moment to be savored.  Devotedly, I confronted
his cock again.

It still stood solidly at attention, inviting my inspection.  I admired the
graceful lines of the long slender shaft, which bounced rhythmically with
his pulse-beat.  Only a single vein running straight along the dorsal ridge
transcended the even surface.  A narrow ring of darkened skin was all that
marked where he had been circumcised.  Arising unobtrusively from its
emplacement, the rosy head did not flare out measurably, but retained the
circumference of the shaft.

Expanding the scope of my appraisal, I realized how extraordinarily smooth
Mitch was over all his body.  I knew that his chest was completely sleek,
and his arms nearly so, but the trend continued from the waist down.  His
thighs and calves were delicately brushed with colorless fuzz.  If not for
my tight perspective, the scattered hairs would have been all but
invisible.  Fanning out from the faint trail that originated at his navel,
his pubic bush was likewise pale and sparse.  His scrotum appeared
completely hairless, but I knew that was not his natural state.  He must
have shaved recently to have it so perfectly depilated.

By now Mitch had edged back from the danger zone, but I remained cautious.
Reaching up between his legs, I cupped his balls and fondled them gently.
With one hand, I held his cock aside, stroking it languidly.  He sighed
softly as I leaned forward and licked his scrotum.  My tongue swirled wetly
over the wrinkled sac, jostling the precious contents.

"Yeah, that's it," he cooed.  "Lick my balls."

With some difficulty, I sucked one of his sizable nuts into my mouth and
washed it with saliva.  I tried to engulf the other as well, but it was not
possible to accommodate both at once.  (Mitch had been generously blessed
in that regard.)  Releasing the first, I nibbled at its mate until it too
was sodden with spit.

Although I enjoyed this diversion, I was eager to resume my primary
mission.  Rising up slightly on my knees, I brought my face level with his
crotch and guided his cock to my mouth.  My lips pressed up against the
cap, spreading open to surround it.  Inside my oral cavity, the tip of my
tongue flicked over the piss-slit.  Torrents of pre-cum had seeped from the
tiny orifice, lending the fleshy knob a slick feel and a subtly salty
flavor.

His respiration had again grown labored, but otherwise Mitch made little
sound.  He was too subdued.  It was time to raise the pace a notch.  Still
feeling impish, I wanted him to pant and beg for relief.

Resting my hands on his hips, I pushed my head gradually forward.  My mouth
slowly enveloped the entire length of the 7-inch member.  Mitch's cock was
just the right size that I felt no urge to gag as it slid into my gullet.
When my lips reached the base of the pillar, my nostrils filled with a
clean scent that hinted of soap and his ubiquitous cologne.

I backed away with equal restraint.  Inch by inch, I eased off his cock, my
tongue gently abrading its ventral surface, until at last the turgid organ
was fully liberated.  A strand of saliva clung to my lower lip, bridging
the narrow gap to his dick-head.  Suspended in air, his whole shaft
glistened moistly.

After a beat, I went down on it again.  Faster this time, I moved forward
until my nose pressed into his pubic hair then reversed until only the head
remained between my lips. Driving forward and drawing back, I repeated the
motion over and over in constant acceleration.

"Oh, yeah!" Mitch cried, his hands gripping the back of my head.

My avid attentions soon propelled him back to the brink.  He whimpered
helplessly, but I did not let up.  His noises only egged me on, until I
rocketed back and forth on his dick.

"Easy, dude!" he barked suddenly, pushing me away with a firm touch.  "I'm
gonna shoot real soon if you keep that up.  But I don't want to yet."

Grabbing me beneath the shoulders, he hoisted me to my feet.  After a brief
delay to remove the rest of his clothes, he squatted down in front of me.
Tapping my legs so that I would raise them one at a time, he tugged off my
shoes, socks and jeans.  When I stood naked before him, he lowered himself
onto his knees.

He peered up at my cock fervently, as a zealot gazes upon the idol of his
god.  There was no processional march prior to this worship; the service
commenced immediately.  With consummate piety, Mitch placed his lips upon
my straining organ.  Receiving it as a sacrament, he mouthed hymns to my
flesh that would appease any divine being.  He made as though to drink from
my phallus were as to sip from a holy vessel.

My legs grew weak as my cock was so devoutly venerated.  The incident in
the car had been but a taste of Mitch's talent.  He fellated my instrument
with heavenly skill.  Its exceptional girth proved no hindrance to him.
His tongue caressed the most sensitive areas with an instinctive finesse
that was surely a gift from the Almighty.

In bondage to the pleasure that Mitch gave me, I was utterly at his mercy.
I could do little more than gasp and moan uncontrollably.  With one hand
crushed into the blond fuzz on his head, I clenched my other fist
spasmodically.

Such was Mitch's expertise that he knew precisely when to slacken his
efforts, lest I ejaculate before he wanted me to.  For some time, he held
me in perfect equilibrium.  When I grew too close, he lessened the tempo of
his ministrations.  When I drifted too far, he raised the intensity again.
It was the most exquisite agony.

At last, I pleaded for a respite, "Hey, ease up a minute.  I need a
breather."

Mitch looked up at me with that arrogant smirk: He was well aware of what
he had been subjecting me to.  "Okay," he said, rising to his feet.  "My
knees were starting to give out anyway.  How 'bout we get on the bed?"

"Sounds good," I agreed.

He vaulted energetically onto the bed, sprawling out on the far side.  More
sedately, I sat down on the edge of the mattress and stretched out beside
him.  The thick down comforter felt soft and cool against my bare skin.

Rolling over onto his side, Mitch contemplated me again.  His eyes scanned
me from head to foot.  I quailed a little under the close scrutiny.  To
cover my self-consciousness, I leaned in to kiss him.  He met me with
enthusiasm for a scant moment, but quickly broke the contact.  His mind was
on other things.

Crawling over me towards the foot of the bed, Mitch stationed himself
between my legs and bent over my crotch.  Mercifully, he did not set upon
my dick, which still smarted from its recent abuse.  Instead, he moved his
mouth down by my balls.  His tongue darted out over my scrotum, delicately
laving the tender package.

It was not unpleasant, but Mitch seemed to sense that I did not really
enjoy being touched there.  He lingered only briefly, before venturing
downward.  His tongue coasted over my perineum, swirling around that highly
sensitive area between the testicles and anus.  I sighed at the novel
delight.

Mitch did not stop there.  His lingual muscle snaked even lower, driving
its way between my buttocks.  As the tip brushed up against my asshole, I
gasped in sudden pleasure.  No one had ever done that to me before.

Mitch was not satisfied with the limited access afforded by our present
arrangement.  Putting his hands behind my knees, he lifted my legs into the
air and pushed them up and back over my torso.  Aimed towards the ceiling,
my bunghole was now completely exposed, awaiting his indulgence.

Holding me propped up in that position, Mitch dove at the wrinkled
sphincter.  His tongue caressed it without restraint.  His breath blew over
my flushed skin, hot and cool at the same time.  The unusual sensory input
caused me to shiver slightly.

He licked up and down in the channel between my butt cheeks, leaving a
river of saliva.  Then he returned to the primary target, concentrating his
efforts on the puckered hole.  Lubricated with spit, his fleshy probe
spiraled in, exerting greater and greater force, until at last it pierced
the tight ring of muscle.

"Oh, yeah," I hissed, squirming involuntarily.

The lingual muscle wormed its way further into my bowels, gyrating wildly
in the narrow tunnel.  It felt as if Mitch were fucking me with his tongue,
but there was none of the initial pain that comes with penile penetration.
The sensation was pure pleasure.

Mitch continued to drill into my butthole for several glorious minutes.
Once again his captive, I could only express my satisfaction with bestial
moans, as I shuddered under the ambrosial assault.  He could have kept on
like that forever, and I would have endured it gladly.

To my infinite regret, he eventually grew tired, and the splendid invasion
ceased.  Unfolding me from that contorted posture, he laid my legs back on
the mattress.  Sticky with sweat, they clung to the coverlet.  I exhaled
noisily.

Grinning smugly, Mitch said, "I guess you liked that."  He did have a knack
for stating the obvious.

"Uh huh," I murmured softly, too befuddled to form words.

He rested only a few moments, before trying to resume his worship of my
cock.  Unable to remain passive any longer, I forestalled his advance.
Grabbing his arms, I pulled him back up onto the bed beside me, then
inverted my body to his.  Verbal communication was not necessary; Mitch
knew instantly what I intended.

We twisted towards one another, angling over each other's groins.  His
mouth closed over my dick, as mine engulfed his.  With vital cogs aligned
perfectly together, he and I merged into a precision mechanism.

Having past the point of lazy sensuality, we did not idle but sprang
immediately into motion.  My mouth pistoned rapidly up and down on his
rigid shaft, while he revved up to maximum throttle on my steely rod.  The
engine formed by our linked bodies was operating at full power.

In no time I began to overheat.  Pleasure and excitement achieved critical
mass.  I didn't fight the inevitable meltdown, which had been too long in
coming.  Instead, I embraced it, thrusting my hips in synchrony with
Mitch's momentum.  My cock drove in and out of his mouth, faster and
faster.  When I attained terminal velocity, I could only emit muffled
groans around the muzzle of his pole.  My semen pumped furiously into his
throat, as ecstasy vibrated through my frame.

Seconds later, sparked by my ignition, Mitch generated his own spontaneous
combustion.  His dick rammed into my oral cavity at breakneck speed.  He
grunted as one final lunge drove his shaft deep into my gullet, where it
discharged its load in several rapid-fire explosions.

I scarcely tasted his jism as it shot down the back of my throat.  There
was only a faintly bitter flavor and a gummy feel in my mouth.  Likewise,
Mitch had swallowed all of my seed.  He still suckled at my cock greedily
as if he were afraid to miss a drop.

Our fuel spent, we ground slowly to a halt.  It was some moments before we
disengaged from one another.  When my dick began to soften, Mitch let it
slip from his mouth.  After a short time his grew flaccid as well, and I
did the same.

Drained but happy, I toppled onto my back.  With what little energy I had
remaining, I flipped myself on the bed so that I was again oriented
right-side- up next to Mitch.  His eyes were closed and he was very still.
I reached out to pull him to me, but he resisted with a nonverbal sound of
negation.  My arms dropped to the mattress, and I rolled away from him,
once again confused.

				   * * *

Some time had passed while we laid there drowsily.  I didn't fall asleep,
but Mitch dozed lightly.  His breathing had become very regular, a gentle
susurration that was the only sound in the room.  With my head propped up
on a pillow, I watched his bare chest rise and fall.

I longed to touch him again, but I wasn't sure if I should.  Afraid to seem
clingy, I had restrained myself from snuggling up to him, although I sorely
wanted to.  After bonding with me so intimately, he had pulled away, both
physically and emotionally, leaving me bewildered and slightly hurt.  His
demeanor had undergone such a disconcertingly abrupt shift from torrid
passion to cool detachment that I was left wondering if I had done
something wrong.

I struggled to reconcile my budding fondness for Mitch with this subtle
rejection.  Perhaps he simply didn't reciprocate my feelings for him, and
all the elated histrionics had been for naught.  Perhaps our liaison had
been purely sexual for him, utterly lacking the emotional component that I
desired to make the experience complete.  Ironically, it seemed as if I had
involved myself in another meaningless sexual entanglement like the
ill-considered association with Jeff.

Then again, perhaps Mitch did indeed return my affections but hesitated to
express himself openly.  Perhaps he wasn't yet ready to show how he felt
about me.  Unable to set aside my feelings for him so easily, I latched on
to that pale hope.

It occurred to me that maybe I should just slip out quietly while he slept.
That might spare us both a great deal of awkwardness later on.  My mind saw
this as a reasonable solution, but my heart stubbornly refused to admit
defeat.  Sated for the moment, my libido had little input, but it generally
favored staying on the possibility of further gratification.  As they all
debated with one another, I remained paralyzed with indecision.

Absorbed in my thoughts, I almost didn't notice the faint sounds that
carried up from directly below the bedroom.  Someone had come in the
outside front door.  There was no perceptible noise for the next few
moments.  I imagined that the stranger was climbing up the stairs.  Then
the inside door opened and closed.

It was probably Mitch's roommate, returning from the library.  Mitch had
mentioned that his fellow graduate student had gone out to study this
evening.  The arrival should have been an insignificant development, but
for some reason it put me on guard.

There was another stretch of silence.  The newcomer was probably setting
down his belongings and taking off his coat.  A few moments later,
footsteps came down the hallway.  For no discernible cause, I felt a
premonitory chill, and my heart began to race.  The footsteps drew up to
the door.  I sat up as the knob slowly rotated.

The door cracked open and a deep, masculine voice called out tentatively,
"Mitch?"

Up until that instant, Mitch had been peacefully recumbent.  At the
utterance of his name, he bolted upright on the bed.  "Michael!" he
shrieked in a horrified falsetto.

The door burst open the rest of the way, revealing a rather short and very
muscular guy.  He looked to be several years older than Mitch, perhaps in
his early 30's.  Having a Latin or Italian aspect, he was well-dressed, in
a jacket and tie, and quite good-looking, with a swarthy complexion,
close-cropped dark hair and light brown eyes.

He stood frozen for only the barest fraction of a second, taking in the
scene.  Given our post-coital disposition, there could be no doubt as to
what activity Mitch and I had lately been engaged in.  The expression on
Michael's handsome face progressed rapidly from puzzlement to incredulity
to rage.  In a flash I realized that he was more than simply a roommate to
Mitch.

"What the fuck is going on?" he shouted furiously.

Mitch only stared at him, his mouth working dumbly.

"You slut!  I can't believe you did this again!  Who is this guy?"  His
wrathful glare transferred itself briefly to me, and I recoiled in shock,
embarrassment and fear.

Mitch began babbling incoherently, as Michael continued his tirade.  With
their attention drawn away from me, I seized the opportunity to scuttle off
the bed and snatch my clothes from the floor.  Naked, I dashed out the door
and down the hallway.  Pausing by the inner door only long enough to tug on
my jeans and shoes, I pulled on my shirt as I flew down the stairs.  The
front door slammed behind me as I bounded off the veranda.

Even outside, Michael's shouting was clearly audible, punctuated by Mitch's
hysterical pleas.  I glanced back once, but no one followed.  Not at all
reassured, I ran to my car.

My chest heaving for breath, I fumbled with the door handle.  The keys
jingled loudly as I handled them ineffectually.  At last the proper one
slid home, and I yanked open the door.  As I jumped in, I tossed my
underwear and socks onto the passenger seat then hastily cranked the engine
to life.  Grinding it into gear, I took off.  The little Toyota roared down
the otherwise quiet street.

Caught somewhere between anger and tears, I struggled to keep my mind
completely blank during the interminable ride back to the dorm.

				   * * *

The following evening I was supposed to meet up with Brian, Alan and Chris
for our regular get-together at the Den, but I had absolutely no desire to
leave my room.  I didn't want to go anywhere, least of all to the place
where I had made the acquaintance of that duplicitous rogue.  All I wanted
to do was stay at home and repine over the back-to-back fiascoes that had
recently comprised my love life.  If Murphy had sought to make my already
wretched existence yet more pathetic, he had succeeded admirably.  It was
only fitting that I paid him his due.

When I finally dragged myself out of bed in the early afternoon, I phoned
Brian to let him know that I wouldn't be coming to the bar.  Salivating for
more gossip, he immediately asked how the date with Mitch had gone.  I
tried to deflect his curiosity, but he wheedled me into explaining why I
was suddenly so dejected.  His crow of delight as I described the
exhilarating climax of the rendezvous was quickly replaced by a gasp of
astonishment as I related the scandalous denouement.  He christened Mitch
with several choice epithets that I hadn't thought of.

Despite my dreadful state of mind, Brian insisted that I come out.  Hiding
under a rock served no purpose, he argued.  I had to get out and have a
good time.  That would take my mind off my troubles.  I protested feebly,
but he wouldn't hear it.  Too weary to put up much resistance, I finally
acquiesced to joining the trio as originally planned.

When I arrived at the Den later that night, I found them all clustered
around a table in the back of the bar.  Evidently, the three of them had
been there for some time.  Brian had already apprised the others, of
course, but in the interest of truth I repeated my ignominious tale.  As I
reiterated the appalling finale, I sank even lower into the chasm of
despair.

"Men are pigs," remarked Brian, when I finished.  It was his only
additional comment on the matter.  As if to illustrate the point, he turned
his attention to a cute blond boy across the room.  Thereafter, he ignored
the rest of us while he lasciviously eyed his prey.

Alan and Chris were somewhat more sensitive.  They listened sympathetically
while I vented my humiliation and disappointment.  Frowning at Brian's
callousness, they offered reassurances to bolster my deflated ego.

It gave me some small solace to see that they consoled me as a couple.
Apparently, I had misconstrued the direction of their relationship, but I
was happy that at least someone had found romance.  My dark mood somewhat
abated, I chatted with them of other things, even smiling when they kissed
and petted one another affectionately.

As the evening progressed, Alan and Chris grew increasingly limerant with
one another, until I began to feel like a terrible voyeur.  Brian
disappeared into the crowd, in hot pursuit of the blond boy.  Feeling
hopelessly alone, I found myself yearning for Jeff.  What had become of
him?