Date: Sat, 15 Jul 2006 02:09:41 -0700
From: Unnecessary Eroticism <unnecessary.eroticism@gmail.com>
Subject: orientation fuckboy

I spent my last two summers at college working as an orientation
counselor for incoming freshman, transfer students, and catering to
their parents (you know ... making them feel that their children were
not going to drink, smoke, have sex, and that their kids would go to
every single class every single day. Basically, I lied to their face.)

One of the best things I liked about the job was the chance to check
out the incoming freshmen prospects. Shaggy-haired, slim-waisted,
polo-shirt-and-cargo-short wearing guys running around wide-eyed and
bewildered at the new surroundings awaiting them: dorms and cafeterias
and the quad and such. Every summer there were at least half a dozen
that would fill my masturbatory fantasies for the next six months.

So basically I was the cool junior or senior who tossed the Frisbee,
gave tours to, taught how to build a class schedule, and answered the
"tough questions" about drug and alcohol use on campus. By the time I
was an upperclassman, I was pretty well-known on campus, and this job
definitely helped my reputation.

One of the rules our bosses told us was to never, under any
circumstances, become physical with a student you're hosting around
campus. For the most part it was an easy rule to follow. There were
four or five guys that I would have easily risked my job for, but they
talked incessantly about their girlfriends (read: hetero. Damn.) so
making a move wasn't in the cards.

All that changed when I met Mark.

Mark was beautiful: 18, smooth, white skin, short hair, baggy shorts,
backwards hat ... pretty much the stereotypical frat boy. He was from a
neighboring town, so there wasn't much for him to travel to campus. We
hit it off immediately, talking about music of the time (Foo Fighters,
A Perfect Circle, Smashing Pumpkins) and favorite television shows
("Family Guy" and "South Park") and girls (I was -- and still am --
pretty skilled at piquing straight guys' interests by checking out
girls with them). In fact, he hit it off quite nicely with another
girl in my group.

By the end of the second day, I had learned a lot about him, his
family, and his love life. We were becoming pretty decent buds by that
point (well, as decent of buds as you can be after knowing each other
for 36 hours). Also, he admitted to me away from the group that, while
he had smoked pot from time to time, he had never drank alcohol
(apparently one of his parents was an alcohol of some sort. But let's
not dampen the mood here).

That night I heard some stumbling in the dorm hallway where we were
all staying. Surprise, surprise, it was Mark drunk off his ass.

"Heyyyyy Joshhhhh," he slurred at me. "I snnnnuckk into a frat party tonight."

"Mark, shut your ass up and get in here," I whispered sharply,
pointing to my room. "You'll get us both in trouble if you get caught
drinking out here."

He stared at me through half-vacant eyes, twisted his lips into a
smile, and staggered through my door.

"You moron," I said with a smile. "I thought you didn't drink."

"Buuuut ... you don't undersssstand," he muttered. "There were girlsssss
therrrrre. Hhhhhot girrrrls."

"Yeah, we call them 'sorostitutes.'"

"And they wannnted ssssexxxxx."

I laughed at him. "No they didn't, Mark. They just wanted to make fun
of the new kid."

And I might have taken it a step too far at this point, as Mark looked
genuinely hurt. "You thhhhhink?"

Quickly I realized my mistake and changed my course of action. "No,
dude, I'm just messin' with ya. You're a pretty good looking guy. I'm
surprised you even got into a frat party. Normally they only let any
non-frat bros in 'cause you'd just take up all the pussy."

(I shuddered internally upon saying "pussy." Don't most gay boys?)

A broad smile spread across his face. I could smell the tequila on him
from across the room.

"Yeah, and I could have got lotsss of pusssssy too."

"Damn skippy, brah. Hot pussy with big ol' titties."

(I shuddered again.)

"Fuck yeah," he said, then slumped back into the bed he was sitting
on. He thought a moment, then looked pointedly at me and said a little
too clearly, "When was the last time you got laid?"

"About two weeks ago. I was at a party and was drinking. We made eye
contact across the room and flirted for about 15 minutes before I went
over and introduced myself. We ended up fucking in the bathroom down
the hall. It was so hot hearing the muffled sounds of our sweaty,
sloppy sex set against a backdrop of music blaring outside the door."

(I was careful not to use any pronouns. I didn't want to tip my hand too soon.)

Mark started to get a little stiff in the front of his shorts. That's
when my plan went into action.

"Here," I said, pulling out my laptop. "Take a look at this."

I double clicked a straight porno I had downloaded off our dorm's
shared server for these occasions: hot college guys fucking drunk
college girls who didn't know they were being videotaped. It was a
pretty hot video, even if you did have a girl in there.

"Check out her tits," I said, pointing to the screen. Mark stared and
didn't say anything. His hand started to absent mindedly rub the front
of his pants. I did the same, subtly at first, but allowing my
movements to become more and more pronounced.

"And her pussy. God that must be all tight and warm."

"We should turn that off," Mark said. "I'm getting a little too horny."

"So?" I replied. "This is college. We're all horny here all the time."

"Yeah, but I kinda want to jack off now."

"... And? When you live with a bunch of guys around you all the time,
you'll see that guys jack off together all the time. It's no big
deal."

Mark drunkenly thought this over. I could see the cogs slowly churning
inside his head, and saw my opportunity to speed things up. "It's not
gay," I lied to him.

His self-groping became more intense. "Ok," he said. "But turn the lights off."

I gladly complied. As I sat back down I unzipped my fly to haul out my
7-inch cut dick. Mark stared at it openly.

"Never seen one hard before?" I ask.

"Just my own. And porno dicks."

"Well, what do you got under there?"

He pulled his cargo shorts down to his ankles and pulled his dick
through the fly of his boxers. 'Holy shit,' I thought as his 8.5
inches sprang forth. It was all I could do right there to not bend
over and deep throat the little fucker.

"Not bad," I said nonchalantly, trying desperately to hide my lust. I
concentrated back on my own cock, taking glances from time to time as
his impressive tool.

After about ten minutes of stroking, Mark turned to me and said, "Man,
a blow job would feel amazing right now."

"Oh yeah?"

"Fuck yeah. Some girl tonguing my nuts and caressing my shaft. I could
really go for one right now."

"Yeah that does sound nice."

I paused, waiting for him to make the next obvious move.

"Do you ... I mean ... I'll do you if you do me?"

"HELLS YEAH!' I thought to myself. "Ok, but you do me first. I don't
want you chickening out after you cum."

This 18-year-old freshman god got to his knees on the cold linoleum
and cautiously wrapped his hand around my cock. He examined it, came
in close, and finally tentatively reached his tongue out licked my
head. Slowly and surely he worked his throat down over it, gagging
slightly, but overall giving decent head.

"Watch the teeth," I had to tell him from time to time, as this was
obviously his first time sucking dick (and, let's face it, the first
time is never pretty, despite what other Nifty stories might tell
you).

I wanted to reach down and grab his little ringlet hair and push and
pull my cock in and out of his face. I wanted to pull my raging boner
our and smack it across his rosy-red, blemish-free cheeks. I wanted to
lay him down on the bed, straddle his chest and face fuck the little
freshman until he got to his upper-divisionals.

But I didn't want to scare the little fucker off. So I kept up the
requisite "Yeahs" and "oooh babys" and whatever else you say when
you're trying to encourage someone who's sucking you off. And after
about 15 minutes, I pulled out and told him it was his turn.

Mark, on the other hand, wasn't as gentle as I was. And I loved it. He
was rough, partly because of the booze, partly because of his
inexperience, and partly because, well, I think he just likes it
rough. He grabbed my hair and pulled my face up and down his dick. I
had to wrap one hand around the base of his cock so he wouldn't choke
me repeatedly on the downstrokes.

"Fuck yeah, bitch. You like that cock?" he muttered. I glanced up and
his eyes were glued to the porno; it was pretty obvious he was imaging
some sorority girl on her knees in front of him. Frankly, I didn't
care. When a hot boy is all into you sucking him off, I take it as a
high compliment.

After a few minutes, Mark looked down at me. I think it hit him that
there was a dude down there -- beyond that, a dude he looked up to and
respected. He slowed down and apologized, saying the porno was too hot
and he just got way into it.

"No worries, dude," I said. "It's a hot porno. I watch it all the time."

After that, we went back to awkwardly resuming our mutual j/o session.
Eventually he asked me if I'd ever done anything else with a guy at
college.

"Sure," I said. "Sometimes this, I've given head ... I've even fucked a
football player a few times."

"Which one?" he asked, shocked and curious as to which Division 1
footballer I'd plugged.

"He made me promise not to tell. And he'd kick my ass if I did."

"So ... you fucked him?"

"Yeah. It was pretty intense. He loves the feeling of cock inside him."

"Have you ever been fucked?"

"Yeah."

"How does it feel?"

"It's different. It's pretty painful at first, but after a while it's
just ... intense. I can't really describe it."

We jacked off for a bit more, sitting next to each other. He adjusted
his leg so it was atop my own. I put my arm around his shoulders.
Breathing heavy, we hands worked in alternating rhythms to bring us
closer to orgasm.

"Do ... you ... want to fuck me?" he asked.

I laughed off my eagerness. "Sure, if you want. I'm pretty fucking
horny right now."

"So, like, what do I do?"

"Just bend over on your knees. I'll tell you what to do next."

So this gorgeous freshman gets on his hands and knees against the cold
hard floor, sticking his ass out like a common piece of gutter trash.
His hole was smooth, hairless, and just right for plucking.

"Here," I said. "Suck my cock for a sec."

He did, giving it most of the lubrication I would need. I had to spit
in my palm a little to finish the job up, but even then I was afraid I
didn't have enough.

"You ready?" He shook his head yes. I could see in the closet mirror
that he was gritting his teeth and scrunching his face together,
preparing for impact.

"Ok," I said. With one hand on his right shoulder and the other hand
guiding my dick towards his hole, I slowly slipped into him. I got
about halfway in and asked how he was doing. He gave me a very breathy
and whiny "I'm OK ... keep going." So I did.

When I was balls deep into him, I checked in again. He was whimpering
pretty loudly, but was a trooper. "I'll go slow," I said, to which he
replied with a herky-jerky nod.

I moved my hand to his hips and started pulling him back into me as I
pushed into him. The warm, tight sensation of his virgin ass was
heightened all the more with the sound his dogged, heavy breathing
filling the room, with girly squeals and moans punctuating the
soundtrack.

"Are you ready? I'm gonna go a little faster." He nodded, gritted his
teeth, and beared down. I moved my hand from his shoulder to his other
hip and being to fuck him in earnest.

Oh my God the noises that boy made. It's a wonder we didn't wake up
the entire floor with all the moaning and panting, grunting and
groaning, cooing and expletives that were flying around the room.

I too found myself getting into it. "You like taking this senior's
cock up your ass, kid?" I asked him. "Yesssss sirrrrrr," he responded.

THWACK! I smacked him on his left cheek.

"Don't call my sir. Say my name."

"Yesss ... Josssssh."

And that sent me into another realm. This freshman was getting fucked,
and he damn well knew exactly who was fucking him. And he was loving
it. I pushed my weight onto him, making his elbows give beneath him. I
pinned down his 155-pound frame and humped my raw, hard cock into his
slowly expanding ass.

I grabbed him by the back of his hair and pulled his head back. "You
like that? Does that feel good?"

Through his pants and moans he managed to muster out a breathy and
extended "Yesss .... Jossssh. Fuckkkk yeah."

That's when I really set to town, rabbit fucking this freshman for all
he was worth. I hadn't realized it, but we were slowly moving our way
across the floor (my God what burns that linoleum must have given his
knees). With each plunge I made into his body, he scooted a little
further towards the spare bed. Before you knew it, the top part of his
body was under the bed, leaving his lower back, spread eagle legs and
tight rosebud exposed. All of the sudden, unable to see his face or
head, the freshman became an anonymous fuckhole. Up until this point I
was being caring and cautious, knowing this was his first time. But
when you remove the sense of companionship or identity? All bets are
off, man.

I pulled his ass up, backed him up on his knees a little, the railed
him. Hard. Full shaft. Repeatedly. I heard some indistinct yelps and
whimpers beneath the bedframe, but they weren't enough to pull me out
of my lust-induced stupor. I was wailing on his poor little ass. After
six or seven strokes I started to slow down. His hands come out from
under the bed and awkwardly grasped at my torso. I figured this was
his way of telling me to stop, that he's had enough, so I started to
decrease my tempo.

But no. He grabbed my ass and thrust me back into him. The knowledge
that a little virgin freshman was craving my cock to no end sent me
over the edge. I blasted what seemed like quarts of jizz into him,
moaning and cursing the whole time. Afterwards I pulled out and slowly
removed him from under the bed. As he flipped over, I saw his belly
was also smeared with cum ... apparently I wasn't the only one who found
the whole situation intense.

"Are you all right?" I asked him, out of breath and trying to not get
caught up in the afterglow.

"That hurt like hell," he said. "But you were right ... it was so
fucking intense. Wow."

I smiled at him. "So you enjoyed it?"

"Hell yeah. Just, like, don't be so rough next time."

"Next time?" I asked, arching my eyebrow.

We ended up exchanging e-mails and keeping in touch for the rest of
the summer. When he came back to campus in the fall, we fucked pretty
regularly for the first couple months. I thought about dating him, but
was going to let him bring it up if he was interested. He never did,
which I expected: freshmen have too much to experience their first
year at college, and a relationship with senior usually doesn't work
out well.

After winter break, he came over to my apartment and asked if I'd be
his boyfriend. I said yes, and we had the most intense sex I've ever
had (and, yes, he fucked me just as hard as I did him that first
night. I'm not normally a bottom, but there were days were I was
craving his 8.5-inch fuckstick.)

Four months later we called it off: I was graduating and moving and
he, well, it turns out he was just too immature to hold a relationship
beyond that of fuck-buddy (don't get me wrong ... I wasn't complaining
at all).

Last I heard Mark was finishing up his senior year and planning on
going to grad school for higher education after that. I moved to the
city and got a corporate 9-to-5 job, and became pretty prominent in
the local gay scene. During many of the inevitable drunken hook-ups
over the years, I found myself relieving the first time I fucked Mark
to "get the juices flowing," as it were (we've all had sex when drunk
... it's not always easy, if you know what I mean). Every time I think
of that little 18-year-old's cargo shorts around his ankles, bent over
in front of me, moaning like a little girl -- well -- I never cum as
hard or as loudly as when I run that little scenario in my head.

All I have to do is make sure I don't yell out "Mark" during.