Date: Thu, 5 Jul 2012 01:20:52 -0700
From: . . <letitbeatu@hotmail.com>
Subject: Fly Away Home

The general disclaimers apply to this story. Please, do not copy this
unless you have permission from me, the author. DO NOT read this is you are
under the age of 18, or of it is illegal for you to read this type of
material wherever you live.

This story is NOT (I repeat... NOT) jam-packed with constant sex
scenes. It's more or less a story about two college students that discover
that there is more to life than what they have been told.

Please email me comments. My email: letitbeatu@hotmail.com

I am not a writer, but one day hope to be. Feedback is very much
appreciated.


"Fly Away Home"



            It's typical for it to be hot during an Oklahoma summer in late
August. Sweat was sliding from my temple and down the side of my face. I
brought a hand up and wiped what I could away, but it kept coming. I looked
at the GPS that was mounted to my dash. Twenty more minutes until I reached
Oklahoma State University. It was going to be my home for the next four
years, not exactly by choice.

            A little information about me: my name is Jared, I'm 18 years
old, about 6'2" tall, a solid 220lbs, and I'm fairly broad-shouldered. I'm
not grossly muscular or anything, just a guy that played a lot of varsity
football back in high school. I have short black hair, and five o'clock
shadow that never goes away.  My eyes are a crystal blue that gets me
compliments from all of the women. I don't complain.

            I was sitting in my old, beat-up car, driving the six hours to
the campus. The air conditioning didn't work. I begged my father to get it
fixed, but he waved it off and said that driving with the windows down
wouldn't kill me. He was right – it didn't kill me, but I'm fairly
certain I lost half of my body weight in sweat.

            Speaking of my stubborn father; he was the reason why I had to
go to Oklahoma State. All of my friends were going closer to home; Tulsa,
Broken Arrow, but not me. Dad wanted me to get away from our small town and
be successful. Usually it's the other way around; usually, it's the kid
that wants to get away, and the parents want them to stay close to home.

            I grew up with a normal family; went to church every Sunday, I
had a younger sister that was about to start her junior year in high
school, I graduated as Salutatorian (second-highest in my class), and
everything seemed to fall into place. I was picked up by a few football
scouts, but decided to give sports up when a fellow member of our team
suffered a severe head trauma senior year. He couldn't even remember his
name. I decided that, although I loved football, it wasn't worth losing my
mind over. Literally.

            Life was typically conservative. I never really agreed with
everything my parents taught us. My mom was a Sunday school teacher, and my
dad was a city council member, so I was subject to a lot of conservative
speeches and sermons. I'm not trying to be disrespectful, that's just how
life was for me. I loved my parents, even though my dad was completely
overbearing. Mom loved Laura, my sister, the most.

            I had a girlfriend, Jenna, but she broke up with me after I
dropped the news that I was going away to Oklahoma State. She said she
didn't understand why I had to go so far away, and I made up an excuse that
I was trying to experience new things, etc, etc. She had every reason to
break up with me, and I played it off like I didn't care. I loved her, and
deep down I blamed my dad for making me have to go off and prove something
to the rest of our town. It was his fault.

            But other than the typical family drama, I'm an average
straight male, eager to get started with the rest of my life. I'm majoring
in Biology, a hopeful Pre-Med student. Pediatrics was my future career
goal.

            I finally arrived at the campus. I slowly drove through a
bustling intersection, trying to find my parking lot. Over a large hedge, I
saw the sign. It seemed to be glaring at me. "Harper Hall," it read. My
dorm. I pulled into my spot and grudgingly made my way to the main
building.

            I was on the second floor. I stepped off of the elevator. The
halls were flooded with parents and students trying to find the appropriate
rooms. People bumped into me, I tried to apologize, but everything was
chaotic. I was suddenly glad that my parents hadn't come with me, because
it would have been disastrous. I saw the looks of anguish on other kids'
faces. They looked in agony; the embarrassment was obvious.

            I finally got to my room; it was at the end of the hall. I
fumbled for my keys and unlocked it successfully. I opened the door, only
to be greeted by a sight similar to what was in the hallway.

            "Do you have everything?" a middle-aged man was saying to my
supposed roommate.

            "Yeah, dad, I'm fine," I heard my roommate say.

            The middle-aged man was with a woman, his wife. They looked at
me as I stepped inside. I smiled awkwardly. They didn't, but they were
merely scoping me out.  We understood each other.

            "I'm Jared," I said slowly. "I think I'm your roommate."

            My roommate looked relieved. He stood up, and I realized that
he was about my height, maybe a few inches shorter. He had dark brown hair,
hazel eyes, and a bit of scruff on his lower chin. He shook my hand with a
forceful grip.

            "I'm Michael," he said.

            It was another hour before Michael's parents were able to leave
him alone. His mother asked me a lot of questions, mostly about where I was
from and what I was majoring in. When she was satisfied, she joined her
husband in hugging Michael until they were forced out. I spent the duration
of this hour moving my own stuff in.

            "Sorry about them," Michael said, hiding his face behind his
hands.

            "It's no problem." I grinned. Michael looked up, then to my
unpacked boxes laying all over the floor.

            "Let me help you." He bent down and began to take things out of
my boxes. I smiled and we unpacked my stuff together. It took us about two
hours, but the small dorm room finally began to look like a home. It was
weird.

            "Thanks for your help," I said, turning down the
thermostat. Michael laughed and fell into his own bed.

            "It's really hot," he said, fanning himself with an old
magazine of mine. I sat down on my bed, which faced him. Michael was pretty
big; about 210lbs, muscular, strong calf muscles as far as I could
see. Definitely a man's man.

            "Are you not from around here?" I was naturally curious.

            "I'm from Nebraska." He sat up, feeling the cold air shoot from
the vents above his bed.

            "Why the hell are you all the way down here?"

            Michael shrugged and looked away. "My parents didn't approve of
it, either, but it was the only place I could afford that was far enough
away from them."

            I finally understood. "So you came to get away from your
parents?"

            He frowned. "Is it that obvious?"

            We laughed it off. There wasn't much time for us to get to know
each other, because classes started that following Monday. It was
Friday. We did find out random facts about one another, though. Michael had
no siblings, he was on a full-ride scholarship, he was majoring in Retail
Management, and he loved football. We bonded over our man-crushes on Tim
Tebow.

            Classes started, and we were both bombarded with work. We stuck
pretty close to one another. I would meet him for lunch in the student
union, and we would talk about everything that was going on. He met this
girl named Kenya, who was from India, and they began dating. Kenya was
absolutely gorgeous; she had caramel skin, brown eyes, and a thick accent
that would captivate anyone. She was with a group of students that were
studying internationally. She tutored me in my Calculus class.

            Michael and Kenya dated through most of the first quarter. The
three of us grew closer, and soon we were inseparable. Some nights I'd come
home from a late lab class and see a sock on the doorknob, and I'd know
that Michael was getting lucky.  So, I'd go crash in the student
lounge. One night while I was riding the couch in the lounge, I saw a small
light on in the corner.

            "Your roommate is bumping uglies, too?" The voice said in a
quiet whisper. I had to lean forward to see for myself. The voice came from
Erica Miller. I had Shakespearian Literature with her. She sat at the front
and I would stare at her long, thick black hair. My hair is black, but
Erica's was jet black, a different black than everyone else's. I definitely
had a crush on her, no doubt.

            Erica was typing on her laptop. I got up and sat across from
her. "Yeah. It's a regular thing." She looked at me, shutting her computer
down. Her eyes were a magnificent green, almost emerald. I swallowed a dry
lump in my throat.

            "You're Jared, right?" She took off her reading glasses,
looking me over closely. I nodded. We began to talk, and not long after we
were pressed against one another in the communal bathrooms at the end of
the hall. It was about 3AM. We were both clumsy, but I knew and she knew we
both wanted it.

            I felt her up. Her tits felt great. My dick was straining
behind my jeans. I quickly unbuckled them and she slid her panties down. I
bent her over and rolled a condom onto my throbbing 8 inches.

            The rest plays out like any other sex story. It was great, no
complaints. Erica was brilliant. She gave me her cell number, and two weeks
later we had our first date.

            It was now getting close to the Thanksgiving season, and
Michael and I spent more time together. Kenya wasn't around as much. I
asked Michael about it.

            "She's just busy," he'd always say. I didn't think anything of
it. Erica would often come over, and the three of us would study for
Organic Chemistry together. It was the only class that all of us
shared. Our majors were so vastly different.  Erica was a Journalism major,
so she was across campus from the calculus and science buildings.

            During one of our daily lunches together, I noticed that
Michael was picking at his tray. The small patch of stubble he had on his
chin during move-in day, was now a full-on beard. He looked worn and
haggard. I playfully tapped him on the shoulder.

            "What's wrong with you, Mike?" I called him Mike whenever I was
trying to aggravate him.


            He didn't say anything right away. Instead, he sat his fork
down and crossed his hands. I noticed that his eyes were red and
bloodshot. I began to get worried.  Michael was my friend, and I didn't
like to see him like this.

            "Is everything okay with your grades?" That was my first
worry. Maybe he was about to flunk out and he didn't want to tell
me. Michael shook his head. That wasn't it.

            "What about your parents? Are they alright?" I kept going on
and on. He stopped me, eventually.

            "Kenya broke up with me. She's going back home to India."
Michael pursed his lips. I felt my pulse escalate. Everything suddenly made
sense. Kenya had been distant to me these past few weeks. I approached her
with a question on my calculus assignment, but she scampered away like a
scared animal. She probably thought I was coming to interrogate her about
her relationship with Michael.

            "Man, I'm so sorry," I forced myself to say, reaching out and
rubbing his shoulder.  Michael recoiled. He pushed himself away from the
table and walked out of the cafeteria. I was left sitting by myself.

            That night was a frat party hosted by Sigma Nu. I was rushing
them, and they were going to reveal who got in during the party. Erica was
with me. I told her about Kenya and Michael. She frowned, but quickly
recovered once she had a few shots of tequila. I asked Michael to come with
me, but he refused, saying he just wanted to study in peace. I let him be.

            "My main man!" I turned around, staring straight at Ian Cole, a
junior at the university. He was your stereotypical frat guy; muscular, not
unattractive, but no different from the others. He somehow managed to wear
a baseball cap backwards and still get laid every night. He gave me a high
five and shoved a drink in my hand.

            "Just wanted to give you a heads up—you're in Sigma
Nu. Welcome, brother!" He gave me a hug, and I could smell the vodka
through his pores. I smiled uncertainly and pushed him back.

            "Thanks," I mumbled. He nodded and went off, spilling his drink
on people as he went.  Erica hugged me in congratulations. Apparently,
running across campus at 5AM and hazing for two weeks straight had paid
off.

            The party went as planned. Everyone that rushed got into the
fraternity, except one scrawny guy that was hospitalized during the hazing
process. He wasn't even at the party. No one cared. Erica was completely
drunk. She wanted to have sex, but I passed her off to her friend
Natalie. They stumbled back to the dorm together, singing at the top of
their lungs. I went in the opposite direction.

            When I opened the door to my room, Michael was sitting up in
bed, reading. He smiled, and then wrinkled his face in disgust.

            "You smell like rubbing alcohol."

            I swallowed a laugh. "That's just tequila."

            He closed his book and sat up. He looked pensive. I sat at the
end of his bed. "You doing okay?"

            "It hurts. I just wish she would have told me sooner, you
know?"

            I nodded. "I know."

            He shook himself out of a trance and stood up. He wasn't
wearing a shirt. I had to admit, Michael was pretty toned. I checked out
his hairy chest and bulging biceps. I didn't think it was weird at first. I
was simply admiring his body.

            "Let's go out and do something. I'm tired of moping around this
place. I want to feel good for once." He threw on a shirt and put on his
shoes. I couldn't argue with him.

            We went to the coffee shop that was a few blocks down from our
dorm. I told Michael that I was a part of the Sigma Nu fraternity and he
laughed it off, telling me that I would have to become stupid to meet their
requirements.

            Michael wasn't like most of the other kids; he was raised in a
very liberal home, very accepting of everyone. I'm not saying I wasn't, but
I was shocked that we shared so many views. One day Michael brought up the
subject of gay marriage, and I told him that marriage should be between a
man and a woman. He looked at me, red blossoming across his cheeks, and
said adamantly: "Please don't tell me you're like the others." It took me
by surprise.

            "Michael, you have to understand that I'm not from Nebraska. I
didn't grow up in a Democratic state. I lived in Oklahoma all my
life. Conservative central."

            He nodded, looking away. I didn't mean to offend him, and I
certainly had no problem with gay people. I had just been raised to know
that marriage was only for a man and a woman. With time, however, I slowly
began to realize that marriage isn't a sacred right to be shared by a few,
but it was meant to be shared by many. I can only thank Michael for opening
my mind up to that.

            We shared many books, from Thoreau to Shakespeare. He would
introduce me to movies and video games, and I'd teach him how to do some
sports move on the practice field near our dorm. We grew to be like
brothers. At least, I considered him a brother.

            Kenya left to go back home, and Michael became quiet for the
rest of the semester. I'd take him out for coffee and he'd just stare at
the table all night. Erica and I were making plans to go stay with her
family during Christmas break. I told her that my parents were unavailable
due to work, but that was a lie. I just didn't want her to meet them.

            Final exams rolled around, and I was swamped with
work. Everything happened at once.  Erica and I crammed in the library for
48 straight hours, without sleep. Or sex. It killed me.

            Erica left the campus a day before me, saying she was going to
go home and help her parents prepare the guest room for me and straighten
up the house. I agreed, as she only lived two hours away.

            I got to my room and saw Michael laying in bed, as he normally
did on nights like this. It was raining outside. He was taking drinks from
a large bottle of vodka. The stench of alcohol burned my nose.

            "What are you doing, Michael?" I stepped inside, closing the
door behind me. He rolled over, managing to sit up. I could tell he was
hammered by the hazy look in his eyes. He pulled out a bottle of pills from
his pocket and waved them in front of his face.

            "I was going to kill myself tonight," he said, with wavering
sincerity in his voice, "but I was too much of a fucking pussy to do
it. Just like I was too much of a pussy to keep Kenya here, or be like
you—" he stopped, his eyes widening. I stepped closer to him, my hand
outstretched.

            "Give me the pills, Michael. Everything will be okay." I tried
to grab them, but he pulled away and stood up, opposite me.

            "Why the hell do you care? You have Erica and you're a frat
guy. Go off with your other frat buddies and fuck all the pussy you want!
Isn't that your dream?"  Tears were falling from his eyes and his voice was
rising. I felt my emotions rise up from the pit of my stomach.

            We slowly circled around one another. Michael took the cap off
the pills, teasing me. I didn't know what to do. Every time I reached for
my cell phone, he threatened to pour the pills in his mouth. I felt
something trickle down the side of my cheek, and I wiped it away. I pulled
my fingers back and realized that tears were welled in my eyes.

            "Please don't do this," was all I could muster. Michael laughed
dryly.

            In a decisive moment, I lunged across the room and tackled
Michael to the floor.  The pills went flying in all directions. We were
punching and hitting one another. I grunted as he landed a hard kick into
my stomach. I put my hand over his mouth, trying to get some advantage over
him. Maybe it was the liquor, but he was able to pin me to the floor. He
rammed a fist into my face, and I felt the acidic taste of blood rush into
my mouth. I spit, trying to shove Michael off of me, but before I could, I
was smothered—by Michael himself.

            I was caught off guard. His lips were pressed against mine. His
face was in mine.  His hands were on the sides of my face. I tried to push
back, but I felt lightheaded. I felt like everything was swirling around
me. I closed my eyes, feeling the pain from where Michael hit me subside.

            I was being kissed by another man, and I was enjoying it. I
felt his tongue tickle my upper lip. I opened my mouth and let him
enter. He explored my own mouth. Our breaths warmed each other's faces. He
tore my jacket off, and I was only in my t-shirt. He pulled away, looking
me deep in the eyes. I knew in that instant the he wasn't drunk. He was
sober.

            "Take off your shirt," he said. I obeyed without complaint.

            He pushed me back down onto the floor and kissed me, his lips
moving lower, now under my chin, down to each of my nipples. I felt the
pleasure rush through me, and my cock was at full mast. I moaned in
ecstasy. He smiled, moving even further down, licking my treasure trail as
he went.

            He quickly unbuttoned my jeans and slid them down. My boxers
had a huge tent in them.  I couldn't believe this was happening, and I was
enjoying it more than I ever had with anyone before. Michael looked up at
me, and I looked back at him.

            "You alright?" His eyes were sparkling. I swallowed a desire to
pull him up and kiss him right then and there.

            "Fine," I squeaked. He pulled my boxers down to my ankles. He
looked at my cock and stared in amazement. He sniffed the wild patch of
pubic hair I had, then hungrily went for my cock. I almost shouted in
surprise at how good it felt when his tongue began to lap across the head
of my dick. Michael was a champ; he went all the way down to my pubes, and
never gagged once. He was hungry for it, and I was in heaven.

            He kept sucking my cock. I grabbed a wad of his hair and began
to face fuck him.  He moaned, lathering my cock with his saliva. I felt
myself go cross-eyed. I knew I was leaking pre-cum already, and each time I
felt close, Michael would pull off and play with my low-hanging balls. He'd
flick his tongue around them, swirl them in his mouth. I grabbed my shirt
and bit down on it so I wouldn't shout out loud.

            "I want you to fuck me," he said, standing up and unbuckling
his belt.

            "Have you ever done that before?" I stood up, helping him get
undressed.

            "I want you to be my first," he whispered, kicking off his
jeans and crawling on top of me. He brought his lips to mine and we kissed
passionately. I felt him sit on my crotch. He grinded his ass against my
dick. I felt like I was going to cum right then, but he turned around and I
pressed myself against him.

            My dick was lubed with his spit and my pre-cum, so lube wasn't
necessary, but it would have made the experience a lot easier. I slowly
entered his hairy ass.  Michael groaned under me, but the warmth of his
body and the amount of pleasure I was feeling would not allow me to stop. I
pushed in farther. He began to moan in pleasure.

            Slowly, I was all the way inside of him. He was stroking
himself. I grabbed his dick, and felt that he was about the same size as
me, a little thicker. He had trimmed pubes, but a great set of
low-hangers. Everything about this moment was perfect.

            "Your ass is so fucking tight," I said, whispering into his
ear. Each thrust sent a new wave of pleasure throughout my body. I didn't
know it was possible to feel this incredible during sex. I clenched my eyes
and slowly pushed in and out of Michael. He remained quiet. All I wanted to
do was kiss him.

            The warmth of his ass made me feel at home. My cock sure knew
what he wanted, and I wasn't about to stop anytime soon. I fucked him
harder, giving him all of the dick I could. I never knew the meaning of
being "balls-deep" in someone, but this was my first time experiencing it
with a guy.

            After about 30 minutes of fucking his ass, I felt my balls draw
up into my body. The orgasm was going to be different than any other I had
ever experienced, I knew this.

            "Michael, I'm gonna cum. Do you want me to pull out?" I said,
slowing down. He just kept ramming his ass against my cock, looking at me
as I kept pumping him.

            "Inside me," he croaked, and I nodded, leaning forward to kiss
him.

            I felt my cock swell, and the cum seemed to rush from the ends
of my toes. Every nerve-ending in my body seemed to be on fire and radiate
with pleasure. I was in this euphoric state of bliss and
happiness. Everything seemed perfect. The universe seemed at peace, etc,
etc.

            I shuddered, feeling the explosion of cum enter into
Michael. He moaned into the hard tile floor. We were both sweating.

            The cum came in volleys. I felt each one, stronger than the
last. My body shook uncontrollably. Everything was spinning. I saw stars
when I opened my eyes. The spasms in my dick continued, but I was out of
cum. I was content with shooting the biggest load I had ever managed to
shoot in my entire life.

            I pulled out. Cum oozed from Michael's ass. He turned to me,
jacking his cock. He leaned his head back and I knew what was coming. I
kissed him just as he began to spray his huge load all over me. I left him
shuddering in my arms.

            A few moments passed. It was just us and our mingled
breathing. He pulled away from me, his cum gluing our bodies together.

            "What did we just do?" he inquired, almost panicking.

            "I don't know, but I liked it..."

            "Jared, we had sex!" His voice was high-pitched and
desperate. I tried to reach out and calm him, but he scurried away, pulling
up his pants and hurrying from the room.

            I suddenly realized what had just happened. I felt my chest
tighten and each breath came with labored effort. Tears stung my eyes, and
I thought of my parents, and of Erica.

            But I mostly thought of Michael and how much I loved him.



To be continued.