Date: Mon, 20 Feb 2006 07:36:01 -1000
From: scotty.13411@hotmail.com
Subject: Strange Bedfellows, Chapter 1

       As Scott strode up State Street, he looked ahead at the magnificent
dome and majestic facade of Wisconsin's state capitol building.  It was
still an inspiring sight, even though he'd seen it every day for the past
year, and had been going to work there all summer long.  He knew that, for
him at least, the image would always inspire a bit of awe.  He remembered
the first time he'd driven into Madison.  It was dusk, and coming off the
interstate onto East Washington Avenue, he saw the dome in the distance, all
lit up.  A cocky, eighteen-year-old incoming freshman at the UW, he thought
to himself, "some day...I'm gonna own that place."  Still, there was a good
deal of reverence in his bluster.

       Truth be told, he did plan to create for himself a successful
political career, but he wanted it for all the right reasons.  He wanted to
make a difference, a positive one, for the "average Joe" in his state.  He
also wanted the attention, the adulation and, yes, the power that political
triumph brought with it. He heard his dad's voice, "just do the right thing,
for chrissake; don't worry about the piddly shit..  And, above all, you
gotta remember, if you're gonna make a difference, you're gonna piss some
people off along the way.  The only folks who get through without rattling
someone's cage are those who are content to not leave their mark."

       Scott, Sr., had repeated that mantra just before hugging his youngest
child, and then watching him drive away to begin his college career.  His
mom was in the doorway, wiping the tears away.  The Turner's now had an
empty nest.  Big Scott turned to his wife and grinned.  "Honey, the place is
all ours once again.  What d'ya say we just fuck the day away on the living
room floor?"

       "Oh, my God, you animal!!" Suzanne feigned shock, and slapped her
husband's firm chest.  "Shut that goddamn door.  I'll go get the Cool Whip
and the Hershey's syrup."  He fucked his wife silly that afternoon and into
the evening.  They did it in every position imaginable, and in nearly every
room in the house.  Big Scott thanked his lucky stars for Viagra.  Somewhere
along the line, when he was able to form a coherent thought, he hoped that
his youngest would wind up as lucky as he was.

       To his parents' chagrin, but also their pride and admiration, Scott
Turner, Jr., was going to do this by himself, from beginning to end.
"Scotty," to family and friends, had lived a fairly privileged childhood.
Dad was a successful attorney, and Mom owned her own successful interior
design company in LaCrosse.  It was a fairly small shop, but enjoyed a rich
reputation, and a rich clientele, all over the upper Midwest.  But Scott was
adamant about putting himself through school.  He figured that he'd saved
enough money, and had qualified for enough scholarship and financial aid
support, to get him through the first couple of years.  In the meantime,
he'd look for the right job and work his way through the rest.

       For a sophomore political science major, landing a part-time job at
the state capital was quite a coup.  Not many staff members were hired on
less than a full time basis, but Scott Turner, Jr. had earned it by working
full time the summer after his freshman year.  That, and he had some very
nice connections.

       Senator Maureen McCarthy was an old friend of the family, and had
even dated "Big Scott" when they attended high school together, and as their
young romance continued into their own college days at the University of
Wisconsin.  As they both began to feel their romance fizzling, Maureen had
introduced Scott's dad to her roommate, Suzanne.  It was love at first
sight.  They had all remained close friends, but Scott always sensed a
certain tension between Maureen and his mom.  Nevertheless, both of his
parents had volunteered on all four of Maureen's successful campaigns for
the legislature, and he had joined the fray in the last two.  So, when he
landed in Madison a year ago, he already had a strong ally under the capital
dome.

       For his second year, he had managed to put together a schedule that
allowed him to continue working afternoons in the office of the party's
caucus in the state senate.  Their mission was to supply the members of the
party with all sorts of information, and to make sure that the senators'
political and legislative needs were taken care of.  Scott answered the call
of all the majority members, but particularly enjoyed it when Maureen's
staff needed the services of the caucus staff.  It was "Senator," while on
the job, but just Maureen when they had lunch or when he took advantage of
their drive back home during holidays and other occasional breaks in the
legislature's busy work.

       Scott hadn't landed the job only through Maureen's intervention.  His
short academic career in the political science department was impeccable,
and he had more than one faculty member attesting to his intellectual
acuity.  He had quickly shown his office colleagues and the members of the
majority party that he deserved the job, and their trust.  Some of the other
staffers were a bit jealous of his close ties to the senator, but none could
honestly dispute his talents.  At only twenty years old, he was quickly
making a name for himself among some of the most powerful people in the
state.  He was smart, articulate and a hard worker.  His political instincts
were impressive, and he was widely known to be very perceptive of the needs
of others.  He knew that he didn't know it all, but he always knew how to
find out what he had to.  As long as he remained interested in serving the
people of Wisconsin, it seemed that his political future was a very bright
one.  Most who knew him, or who knew of him, figured he'd likely have an
official title in front of his own name some day.

       Among his most notable attributes, other than his looks and physique,
was his ability to exercise very careful discretion.  He had learned the
necessity of this gift through some very personal experiences.  He'd come to
accept his occasional sexual escapades with other men as part of who he was.
  Oh, he intended to settle down with a fitting wife and raise a family some
day, but in the meantime, he figured he'd continue to enjoy the best of both
worlds.  During his first year in Madison, he'd gotten past the shame he
used to feel following an orgasm at the hands, mouth or ass of another guy.
Still, discretion in that part of his private life was his top priority.
Well, usually his top priority.

*	*`	*	*	*

       He'd sucked his first dick somewhere around the eighth grade, but
only after his cousin, Will, had sucked him off first.  What had started as
horsing around had led to groping and the good old "show me yours and I'll
show you mine."  Then they moved onto jacking off in front of each other and
then assisting each other.  One Thanksgiving, following the family feast,
Scott and Will quietly exited and went back to Will's house.  The usual
groping and stroking commenced, and before Scott realized what was
happening, Will's mouth was on the head of his hard cock. Getting no
resistance, Will slowly began sliding his warmth up and down over the stiff
tool.  "This," he remembered thinking, "feels fucking fantastic."  Before
very long, he was shooting ropes of cum over Will's shoulder.  He wasn't
able to reciprocate on that occasion, but eventually began to enjoy repaying
his cousin's eager generosity.  He could never bring himself to take Will's
load in his mouth, however, and didn't quite understand how his cousin could
enjoy doing the same for him.

       That went on for a couple of years, but by the tenth grade, both boys
had conformed to social norms and displayed the more "healthy and normal"
attraction for the fairer sex, and had also found the courage to pursue
them.  Each guy dated a couple of girls throughout high school, both of them
losing their virginity during the summer following their junior year.  By
the time they graduated from high school, each was about as experienced in
meeting the needs of a horny girl as any other guy they knew.  Will never
attended college, and Scott planned to return home during Christmas break
this year to stand up in his cousin's wedding to his last high school
sweetheart.

       The only other guy who had Scott's high school cock in his mouth was
one of the guys from the hockey team.  One night, home alone in his parents'
basement, a wrestling match between Scott and Paul spontaneously broke out.
Rolling around on the floor, pretty evenly matched, they each realized that
the other one was rock hard.  One macho dare led to another, and they
stopped grinding their bulging, Levi-clad crotches together began tearing
each other's clothes off.  Within minutes, they had figured out how to
position themselves in a sixty-nine, each one shooting his load on the
other's chest.  Neither one ever spoke of it again after that.

       *	*	*	*	*

       By the time he arrived in Madison that first year, Scott was looking
forward to mixing it up with any number of the hot girls and guys he saw
around campus.  He just wasn't sure where to go to find the action he felt
he needed from time to time.  He felt confident in his physical appearance,
though not arrogant or cocky.  As a new freshman, he stood a little over
five feet, ten inches tall, and his weight consistently hovered between 155
and 160.  With a 31-inch waste and 40-inch chest, he'd be described as fit
and trim.  No hard body, but very easy to look at, and he was looked at on
several occasions.  One would think he was a swimmer, but he was largely the
beneficiary of good genes and a pretty disciplined running schedule.  He had
a moderately hairy body, and packed a nice six and a half inches under his
belt, up to seven when given all the right attention.  "No donkey dick,"
he'd sometimes joke, "but I certainly know how to put it all to good use."

       While he'd participated in sports throughout high school, mostly
baseball, he didn't fit the stereotypical jock image.  He gave off the air
of an intellectual rather than an athlete, though he could throw the ball
around with confidence any time he was so inclined.  And, while he didn't
read the box scores on a daily basis, he could hold his own in any
conversation of either college or professional sports.  A rabid Badger fan
since just a little boy, one of the first things he did when he got to
campus was head to the athletic office to pick up season tickets for the
football season.

       He went with his new roommate, Craig Bostwick, so that they'd have
seats together at Camp Randall.  Craig was a native of Rockford, Illinois,
and the guys had been randomly thrown together by the powers-that-be in the
housing department.  They hit it off right away, a relief to both guys.
Scott was happy about the pairing for several reasons.  Craig was planning
to major in journalism and he had a good deal of intellectual substance, so
their conversations were easy and often animated.  He had more than a little
interest in both sports and politics, and could really hold his own in a
serious conversation and in talking trash.  Plus, it was fun having a Bears
fan nearby to give plenty of shit to. While he was glad that they were
rapidly becoming friends, he was also somewhat relieved that there was
absolutely no physical attraction there.  He had come to Madison afraid he'd
wind up with the hots for a straight roommate.  Craig, it seemed, was very
straight, and there were no hots on the horizon.  Craig was a good enough
looking guy, but not one that Scott would ever think of making a move on.
All in all, it was a relief.

       And the Craig introduced him to Marty Anderson.  Marty lived with his
life-long buddy, Brett, five floors above in the same dorm.  The guys had
graduated from high school just a year before Craig, and they had all hung
around a lot, partied a lot and chased babes a lot during those days back in
Rockford.  During that first week in Madison, Craig had initiated a reunion
of sorts, contacting the guys and inviting them down to smoke a joint and
have a couple of beers.  Only Marty was in the room when he called, Brett
was away at marching band practice, and Marty was never one to pass up an
invitation like that one.  Just as Craig was finishing rolling the doobie,
there was a knock on the door.

       When Scott opened the door, Marty was greeted with one of those
deer-caught-in-the-headlights gazes.  "Oh God!" thought a stunned Scott.
The only though his temporarily addled brain could muster was "fucking
gorgeous."

       The gorgeous guy started to giggle, and stuck out his hand.  "You
gotta be Scott, right my man?"

       "Uh, yeah."  Scott was never a man lost for words, but couldn't
string a coherent thought together at this moment.  He felt lucky to have
enough presence to accept the handshake as he just stared straight ahead,
mouth open.  When their hands met, Scott felt something like an electric
charge.

       "Marty!  Marty Anderson." He winked at Scott.  "Craig said you guys
were fixin' up a small party.  My roomie's gone all day, so I'll have to
carry the weight for both of us," he grinned.  "So, do I get to come in or
are we going to fire up that bad boy right here in the doorway?"

       "Oh, sorry, man.  Yeah, c'mon in.  Good to meet you."  Scott got out
of the way and Marty entered, patting him on the back as he passed.
"Craig's been talking about you.  Tennis player, right?"  Scott was
beginning to return to earth.

       "Buuuuuudddd!" wailed Marty as he stepped across the room, arms
stretched out inviting a hug.  Craig stood up and the guys embraced, each
one patting the other on the back a couple of times.  "Great to see you,
dude."

       "You too, my man.  He took Marty's shoulders and forced him to do a
one-eighty so that he was facing Scott.  "This, my dear roomie, is the best
fucking tennis player in all of Illinois.  Two-time state champ...or have you
lost it already?" He kneed Marty in the ass.

       Marty lowered his head and blushed a little.  "Aaahhh...I can hold my
own on the court" was all he would offer.

       "Mark the calendar, Scott.  On this day, the great Marty Anderson,
trash talker extrordinaire, master of bullshit and bluster, showed something
resembling real humility."

       Marty just flipped him off and grabbed his crotch.  "Blow me, you
bastard.  Either that, or light that fuckin' joint."

       Craig looked around with exaggerated desperation.  "Quick, somebody
find me a lighter!"  Marty tossed him his.  He winked at Scott.

       Marty looked every the part of an ace tennis star.  Standing not more
than five foot six, he had a wiry build.  Scott estimated not more than 140
pounds on a frame that he guessed to be very fast and very agile.  He
immediately thought he'd like to find out just how agile.  Marty sported
rich brown hair and had two of the greenest, piercing eyes he'd ever seen.
There was a certain intensity there that looked deep into you when he was
interested.  And Marty exuded a genuine interest in everything and
everybody.  When you talked, you had his full attention, and his face told
you that what you were saying was worth listening to.  Scott judged that it
was genuine.

       After the ice had been broken, and Scott had regained his bearings,
the three guys commenced with an afternoon of drinking cheep beer and
smoking some very good dope.  The two "flat-landers," as Scott playfully
called them, borrowing a well-worn term among most in the Badger State, told
tales on each other from their days chumming around in high school.  Scott
held his own with his own stories of athletic and sexual adventure, but was
careful to stick to the hot babes that he'd banged.  No doubt, all three
engaged in more than a little embellishment along the way. Sitting on the
floor of the dorm room, Scott tried more than once to cop a peek up the legs
of Marty's loose fitting shorts, to no avail.  He felt confident that it
went unnoticed by the object of his attention, but couldn't help but notice
Marty's habit of winking whenever he delivered a particularly dirty punch
line to one of his many anecdotes.

       A couple of hours had gone by when Marty announced it was time to
adjourn to the cafeteria to take care of a "hellacious case of the
munchies."  The other two agreed, and they giggled their way across the
street to the food court shared by two other dorms in the area.  The idle
conversation continued over junk food for the next hour, with all three
taking advantage of the opportunity to leer at, and occasionally comment on,
many of the shapely young coeds walking past.  A couple of times, though,
Scott thought he saw Marty's gaze settle in on a good looking guy's ass or
his front package.

       Craig was happy that his new roommate and his old buddy had hit it
off so well, and Scott was more than a little bummed out when Marty
announced it was time to head out.  "Gotta meet some folks," was all he
said.  He warmly shook Scott's hand, saying that he looked forward to many
more good times together.  He then swatted Scott on the ass and offered up
the all-to-corny "don't let the meat loaf, buddy," and was on his way out
the door.  He turned and winked as he left.

       It was late morning the next Saturday, nearly noon in fact, and Scott
was struggling to sit upright.  His foggy brain was trying to recall as many
ways as he could for curing a hangover  He heard Craig snicker, and
attempted a sneer through his cloudy, squinted eyes.  Craig was already up
and dressed, sitting on the edge of his bed putting on his high-tops.

       "Gonna go shoot some hoops.  Marty, Brett and a few other guys are
heading out in a few minutes.  Want a lesson on the court, sad ass?"

       "Jeeeezus Christ, man!  How the hell can you go out and jump around
this morning?  You had every bit as much to drink as I did last night.
Don't you feel like shit?"

       "You're right and you're wrong.  I do feel like shit, but I didn't
come close to matching you in the consumption department last night.  Your
first dance with `Mr. Whitey' was quite entertaining."

       "Oh, shit," Scott thought. The rolled up dollar bill on his dresser
next to his room key and wallet suddenly made sense.  "The cocaine."

       During the small party in Marty and Brett's room last night, Marty
broke out some coke and introduced Scott to the stuff.  He dove in with wild
abandon.  He was pretty sure he hadn't turned down a single offer to do
another line all night long, and that only prompted him to drink more gin
and tonic, or beer or anything else that was being offered.  His head was
stuffed up this morning, and his jaws actually ached.

       "You had a serious case of the grinds," Craig chuckled, remembering
Scott grinding his teeth continuously in the wee hours of the morning.
"Gotta watch that shit," he added, "it can be wicked to you."

       "No shit!  Good thing I can't afford to make it a regular habit or
I'd have a straw in my nose all the time.  Did you say that Marty deals the
stuff?"

       "Yeah, a little, but nothing major.  Said he moves just enough to
subsidize his own recreational use.  I used to worry about him, but he seems
to have a good grip on the situation.  Looks to me like he has his
priorities straight and isn't going to fuck anything up for himself."

       "Good thing, he's a great guy."

       "Yeah.  He can be a real cut-up, a real screwball at times, but he'd
give you the shirt off his back.  My dad always called him a "live wire,"
and I don't think he entirely approved of our friendship.  But, he was never
gonna tell me who I could and couldn't hang with.  I've always envied his
foot loose and fancy free approach to life.  He just seems to love
everything and everybody.  It's like he eats up life."

       "I wish he'd eat up me," Scott mused through the haze enveloping his
brain.  "Hey, what were the names of those other two guys we met last night?
  Don't they live on this floor."

       Craig laughed, "Man, you really were on a tear.  The dudes were there
`til the bitter end, and you kept mixing it up with them, calling them the
"James Brothers."  That was Frank and Jesse, the guys in the room at the end
of the hall.  Frank's the skinny white guy and Jesse's the muscle-bound
stud.  Hard to say if he's Latino or Hawaiian or Philipino, but he's built
like a fuckin' shithouse.  Remember...they went to high school together
somewhere in Minnesota, and you spent way too much time giving them shit
about how much the Vikings and the Twins and the Gophers all suck."

       It was coming into focus now.  Jesse is one well-built guy.  About
five foot seven, Scott guessed, and maybe 180 pounds of solid muscle.  Huge
chest and biceps he showed off in his red tank top, and a firm tight ass to
die for.  Next to Jesse, Frank did look skinny, but Scott thought he was
built more along the lines of Marty, tight and sinewy.  Good looking guy
with dark brown hair and deep brown eyes.  The stubble he was wearing on his
face made him look a little bit older, and maybe a bit rugged, but it was
sexy.  He remembered thinking they gave off a vibe that said they were very
close, and wondered if there was anything going on between them.  In the
end, he chalked that up to the fact that they were life-long friends, and
that he was buzzed and sex-starved at the moment.  Regardless, they had
brought some killer weed to share.

       Then he remembered the phone message that Craig had relayed last
night, and the interest it prompted from the group of guys.

       "Oh, hey, I almost forgot," Craig offered while passing the joint,
"you got a call today from a Maureen.  Said she'd try again over the
weekend.  If not, she said to give her a call on Monday.  Said you have the
number."

       "Maaauuuurrrreeeen?" they all said in unison, dragging out the name.

       "Jeez.  Only a week in and the babes are already calling you?" Marty
asked.

       "Careful," said the usually quiet Brett.  "The only Maureen I know
gave me crabs."  They all laughed.

       "If it's the Maureen I'm thinking, and I'm sure it is,
she..is...NOT...a...BABE! She's a fifty-three year old widow, and a friend of my
folks.  She's a lawyer who does a lot of work in Madison."  He wasn't quite
lying.  She was an attorney and did do a lot of work in Madison.  Not
wanting to sound like a name-dropping schmuck, he omitted the fact that
Maureen was a state senator.

       "Yeah, but is she hot?" Frank asked.

       "Dude, ya' can't look at your old man's former squeeze and think
`hot.'  It's sick."  Still, Scott didn't mind telling anybody that Maureen
was an attractive woman.  She was..."for her age"... he thought to himself.

       Craig jumped on that. "She used to do the nasty with daddy?  And now
she's calling you?  Maybe she wants to re-live the splendor of her youth.
Legs in the air, you banging her brains out and she's shouting out your
name, but thinking of the old man." They all laughed.

       "Fuck off, asshole," He was laughing along with them.  "You're all a
sick bunch of fucks, you know that?  Gimme that," he ordered, snatching the
joint from Craig's hand.  He could hear the razor tapping on a small mirror
while Marty prepared another set of lines for those who wanted.

       Craig interrupted his efforts to remember the previous night's many
conversations.  "So, you gonna get your ass out of that bed and submit to
Dr. Bostwick's lesson on Dr. Nesmith's art form on the noble court?"

       "Naah, roundball's never really been my game.  I like to watch it,
but haven't really gotten into playing it all that much."  He began filling
the coffee pot with water from the one sink in their room, and was trying to
remember where he'd stashed the can of coffee.  He wasn't sure if he wanted
to find the coffee first or the Anacin.  The coffee was on the top shelf of
his wall-mounted book case.  "Besides," rooting through a desk drawer
looking for any pain-killer at all, "I have a ball-busting paper assignment
for my poli-sci class I need to work on."  After popping three aspirin into
his mouth, and then taking a gulp right out of the coffee pot, he poured the
rest of the water into the coffee maker.  He noticed his right hand was
shaking a bit.

       "Fuck," he scolded himself.  "Can't make this a habit, you goddamn
moron."

       "A fucking paper!?  Already?" asked a slightly shocked Craig,
"Christ! The semester's only a week old.  How can you have something due so
soon?"

       Scott put the usual three scoops of coffee grounds in the filter,
then added a fourth for medicinal reasons.  He hit brew and sat back down on
the end of his bed.  "It's not due for three weeks yet, but the TA for the
class has offered to review any drafts and offer suggestions, but it's got
to be a complete draft.  Otherwise, he said not to waste his time.  Since
it's my first effort on a college paper, I thought I should take him up on
it.  Can't hurt to get noticed early on, I figured.  This is an intro.
course, and there are nearly three hundred of us taking it.  If I'm going to
major in this area, I need to do anything I can in order to stand out.  If
the dude remembers my name, and if he thinks I have any talent, maybe I get
mentioned in the hallowed offices of the department."

       "Dude, you're the political animal through and through, aren't you?"

       "Bet your sweet ass."

       The now familiar knock of Marty followed, and Scott reached up from
the end of his bed to open the door.  Knowing the layout of the room, and
not seeing anyone in the doorway, Marty figured where Scott was sitting.
Before fully entering, he reached around the door, mussing up Scott's hair.
"G'morning gorgeous.  I'll bet you're feeling like a million bucks today.
Man, you were a fish last night.  Made me proud.  So, d'you puke yet?" he
laughed.  Closing the door and taking a good look at Scott, sitting in his
boxers, head in his hands, Marty laughed again, "Dude, you positively look
like shit."

       "I'm blaming you, asshole.  You poisoned me with controlled
substances and then over-served me alcohol. There oughta be a fucking law."
If I didn't know any better, I'd have thought you were trying to take
advantage of me.

       "Well, maybe you don't know any better and you just don't know how to
take a hint, ya' dumb bitch.  Even when I groped you on your way out the
door this morning you couldn't read my body language.  You've got a way to
go if you're gonna get any of this," Marty said grabbing his crotch.  Craig
chuckled and shook his head while rolling his eyes.  He'd seen and heard
Marty banter this way ever since they were in about the fifth grade.

       Scott began rewinding as much of the night as he could recall,
wondering, even hoping, that there was some truth to Marty's effort at
sexually driven humor.

        "Now get your ass off that bed.  I want the chance to kick it around
out on the court."

       "Not me.  You boys go and play your games outside.  I'm going to hit
the shower and then hit the books up here."

       "Very impressive, professor, but a weak-ass excuse to avoid a good
thrashing"

       Scott grabbed a towel and his kit and headed down the hall to the
men's room and showers.

       "Hey dumbshit," Craig called out just before the door closed.
"Unless you want to stand out there in the hall all morning, don't forget
your key.  We'll be gone by the time you get back."  Marty put down the
wallet and cell phone he'd been carrying, grabbed the key and tossed it to
Scott with the now-familiar wink and a smile.

       Scott was alone in the shower area, at first just standing motionless
under the hot running water.  His head was starting to clear, and he knew
the coffee would be brewed by the time he got back to the room.  Standing
there with his eyes closed, he conjured up the now familiar vision of a very
naked Marty Anderson.  He'd seen him shirtless a few times, and a couple
other times in only his boxers, so he felt confident that he had an accurate
view of the rest of his equipment.   Even last night's partying and the
nasty after-effects couldn't prevent the inevitable result of the visual he
was conjuring up.  He could feel his cock getting heavier without even
touching it.  As he applied and rinsed the shampoo,  he imagined that it was
Marty's hands that were running through his hair.  As he first soaped his
pecks and under his arms, those were Marty's hands making his nipples stand
up.  Heading south with the bar of soap, he was standing at full mast by the
time he reached the promised land.  He stroked his hard cock a few times
with soap covered hands.

       Then he heard the bathroom door open, and thought he recognized the
voices as they entered.  He quickly did a one-eighty in the shower, rinsed
off and grabbed for his towel.  The other two had stopped to use the
facilities, and Scott was covered by the time they entered the shower area
with Jesse in the lead.  A slight smirk on his face led Scott to believe
that one or both of them may have seen him working his tool, or that the
towel was doing a terrible job at hiding his impressive erection.  He
grinned back as they passed and gave each guy a friendly "'morning guys."
Jesse smiled broadly at him, while Frank just grinned and nodded.

       "You're alive!" Jesse chided.  "Glad to see it.  For a while there
last night I was afraid that my favorite cheesehead was going to snort his
way to a coronary."

       "I tried, but thanks for at least being afraid."  They all chuckled
while both guys dropped their towels and each turned on a shower.

       Scott paused to marvel at the fine muscular form that Jesse
presented; olive complexion, baby-skin smooth from neck to toe.  Modest
tool, as far as he could tell, but he couldn't help but wonder what it
looked like at full mast. And, he could see that Frank had nothing to be shy
about as he removed his towel and turned on the shower.  If he were a few
inches taller, he'd be called lanky, but his trim, toned body reminded him
of Marty's. And, even soft, that cock of his was out of proportion to his
body.  It had to hang at least five, inches down from the thick bush between
his legs.  It was a struggle to avoid staring at the hot muscle stud and his
extremely well-hung friend.  But he managed.

       "Had a great time last night.  Thanks, by the way, for sharing that
outstanding "herb."  I owe you one."

       "No doubt.  We'll get it out of you somehow" said Frank as Jesse
smirked. "Good to see you still breathing and walking."

       On his way down the hall, Scott found himself hoping that the two
guys were soaping each other up as a prelude to some hot Saturday morning
animal sex in the shower.

       Once back in his room, he poured a cup of coffee and noticed a cell
phone and a wallet on the dresser.   They weren't his, and Craig didn't have
a cell.  Then he started to replay the image of Marty he had been working on
in the shower.  He thought, too, of Frank and Jesse, imagining what they
could be doing by now in the shower.  He could see in his mind's eye Jesse
from behind, on his knees, that incredibly muscular back shimmering under
the running water, and Frank leaning with his back against the tile wall,
legs slightly spread and the back of Jesse's head bobbing up and down.  Next
he saw the completely naked Marty, also on his knees stroking a nicely
shaped, uncut cock with his right hand and pinching his right nipple with
his left.

       After taking a couple of short sips, he put down the cup of coffee
and lay back on the bed, peeling the towel off his torso on the way down.
His engorged member sprang free as he flopped back, and he told himself that
he had to take care of this business before he could even think about
getting anything done in what was left of the day.  He raised his right hand
to his mouth and wet it thoroughly before grasping the hard member.  With
his wet hand, he began stroking his hard cock.  His left alternated between
working on his nipples, fondling his balls and lightly fingering his hole.
Eyes closed , he was getting back to the image of Marty's hot mouth working
up and down the way that Will's used to, but only with more patience, the
same way that he imagined Jesse ought to be working Frank at that very
moment.  "If those two hot fuckers aren't doing it, there's something
seriously wrong with one or both of them," he grinned.

       But Marty.  When and how would he ever have a chance at scoring the
tennis stud of his recent dreams?  Eyes still closed, he imagined that the
moist warmth that was working his cock toward certain eruption was Marty's
sensual mouth.  He slowly whispered a low moan.

       He didn't hear the key in the lock.  By the time it completely
registered that the door to the room had opened, it was too late.

	"What the...?!"

       "Whoa, dude, I didn't know.  Sorry to interrupt."  Marty quickly
closed the door, and had a huge grin on his face.

       In an instant, Scott's feet were flat on the floor.  He quickly
picked up the towel he'd dropped on the floor to cover his lap, and leaned
over, elbows on his knees.  "What the fuck are you doing here?  Don't you
usually knock before going into someone's room?"

       "Hey man, really sorry.  I left my cell phone and wallet up here.
The courts out back are full, and we were going to relocate over to the gym.
  I needed to call a couple of buds who were going to join us.  Craig gave
me his key, and I said I'd make the calls and meet them all over there."  He
was still smiling as he leaned his ass back on the edge of Scott's desk.
Scott just stared at the floor in embarrassment.

       "Dude, chill out" Marty begged.  "Just about every guy in this dorm,
every normal one anyway, is going to be whacking their own morning wood
today, and every other day, too.  No big deal.  Actually, though, in your
case, it is a fairly big deal.  I'm impressed."  He chuckled again.

       "Fuck off asshole."  An embarrassed smile was starting to emerge on
Scott's face, but he continued to look at the floor between his feet.  "Are
you going to walk in on every other normal dude in the dorm, then?"  He
glanced up and noticed Marty's hands were moving in the pockets of his
shorts.

       "I doubt it.  Nobody has that kind of luck.  I must be living right
today though.  Hey, since I so rudely interrupted you, how about I give you
a hand with that thing?"   Scott hadn't looked him in the eye since he
entered the room, and as he finally did, he saw an unmistakable leer lurking
in there.  The erection that had so quickly wilted under the towel began to
spring back to life.

       "What?" he asked, wanting to be absolutely clear of the guy's
intentions.  "A hand?"

	"Well, a hand at least." Marty said softly, walking over near the bed.  He
leaned down and took a corner of the towel in his hand.  Scott was still
leaning forward, pinning it to his lap, and Marty tugged a little.  "Here,
let's have a look at what sort of serious academic pursuit you were going to
be working on today."  Scott smirked a little as he somewhat reluctantly
raised his weight off of the towel and allowed Marty to remove it.

       "I can't believe this is happening," he thought to himself.  "Can
this fucking really be happening?"  The growing bulge under Marty's loose
cotton shorts was unmistakable.

       "Are you serious? Just what did you have in mind?"

       "Serious as sin, man. What I had in mind on my way up here was to
just grab my phone and wallet, and then go.  But now, unless there are any
objections, I think I'll grab something else and just see what happens."
Hearing no objection, Marty leaned in and grabbed the semi-erect member.
"Nice."

       Scott took a deep breath and began to smile.  Without really
thinking, he put his own hand on Marty's thigh and slowly rubbed his way
upward, under the fabric of the shorts, until the back of his hand felt the
pouch of Marty's jockstrap.  It was very full and firm.  Marty briefly
released Scott's inflating cock and quickly peeled the shorts off.  Stepping
out of them he leaned in again and resumed stroking Scott's dick.  As he
leaned over, his face came within inches of his new friend.

	Scott had never kissed another man.  All he'd ever done was jacking and
sucking, without all the other intimacy he'd enjoyed with girls.
Instinctively, he flinched his head back a bit in response to Marty's
advancing lips.

	Marty smiled slightly and paused.  They looked deep into each other's eyes.
  Scott was kneading the pouch of Marty's jock, feeling the cock strain
against the material of the pouch.  Marty was slowly but firmly stroking
Scott's fully erect tool, and had begun smearing the precum around the
flaming head of his dick.  "Just relax, man.  Let's just enjoy this.  We've
wanted each other from day one, so let's not hold back."  Marty brought his
face a little closer once more, and Scott didn't flinch.  Their lips met
lightly and Scott didn't move.  Marty closed his lips around Scott's bottom
lip and held the kiss like that for a second.  Scott felt Marty's tongue
swipe across his bottom lip.  It felt good.  He opened his mouth slightly
and met Marty's advance with an intensity that surprised him.  Their tongues
danced while Scott removed his right hand from Marty's jock and placed it
behind his head, pulling him into a passionate, spit-swapping mouth lock.
He moaned slightly as Marty broke the kiss and went to his knees.

	"Just sit back and enjoy, bud.  Let me try to take some of the edge off of
your day.  After all, you tried to blame me for the hangover.  Let Marty try
to make it better."  He dipped his head a bit and licked Scott's left
nipple.  Scott gasped in approval, and he began sucking and nibbling on the
firm nub.

	"Oooooh, Shiiiit!"  Then, suddenly, "Marty, hold on!!  What about your
hoops game?  You were supposed to meet Craig and the others.  What if they
call or come back looking for you?" Scott was starting to build a low panic,
though he didn't want to pull the plug on what was starting to feel really,
really good.

	Marty never looked up.  "Dude, you think too much, and right now you're
thinking with the wrong head."  He leaned lower and ran his tongue around
the head of Scott's cock.  "If they call the room, you don't answer."  Lick.
   "If they call my cell, I don't answer."  Lick.  "If they come looking,
remember that the only two keys to the room are right now in this room."
Lick. "Nobody can barge in the way I did."  Lick.  "My lucky day, by the
way."

       He looked up and flashed that killer smile to put Scott at ease and
continued slowly stroking the cock that was so hard it was starting to
seriously ache.  "I'll catch up with them.  There's more than one gym on
campus.  I'll tell them that we all got our wires crossed and that I went to
the wrong gym.  Besides, it's not like we're gonna be at this all day.  You
had a head start on me, and while I'm good, I'm not gonna last a couple
hours.  Just relax, lay back and enjoy the ride."

       He placed a flat hand on Scott's chest and pushed back.  He spread
Scott's legs a bit further, and began licking and nibbling at the inside of
his thighs.  It felt fabulous.  He'd received more than a few blow jobs in
his young life, from both guys and chicks, but nobody had ever paid
attention to anything other than his hard on.  Marty was giving full
service.  His tongue found a spot to the right of his ballsac and Scott
gasped.  Realizing that he'd found a sweet spot, Marty placed his lips there
and sucked with a vengance.

       "Oh God!"  Scott grabbed the hair on the top of Marty's head and held
him there.  "Sooooo fucking sweet!"

	Marty pulled his head back a little and smirked.  As far as he was
concerned, the light hickey he'd just left on the uppermost inside of his
friend's leg said "Marty Anderson was here."  Marty considered that a
trademark.  Any time he made it with another guy, he left a little reminder
that nobody would ever be able to see.

       Scott let go of Marty's head and propped himself up on his elbows.
Looking down, he was entranced by a dream come true.  Marty looked up at him
and grinned as he ran his tongue up, down and around the piece of meat in
his hand.   He winked and then went down in earnest.  Slowly, inch by inch,
he swallowed Scott's throbbing tool.  Scott felt the head hit the back of
his buddy's throat, then felt him open up and take in the rest.  He was
stunned.  He'd sucked cock before, but never even tried to deep throat, and
had never experienced the sensation himself.  He groaned a blissful "Oh,
God...Marty!!"

       "Feeling better, professor?" Marty whispered as he came up for air
with a smile on his face.  He looked up and saw Scott's head laying back and
his eyes closed.

	"God!! Don't stop!!" Scott pleaded as Marty slowly dragged his tongue over
the length of the shaft, up and over the head, and down the other side.
This he repeated several times before swallowing the tool once again.  For
several minutes, Marty made love to Scott's manhood, fondling his balls and
sending him to the very edge.

	Marty sensed that he was about ready to shoot, and released his grip.  "Not
so fast, stud," he heard his friend chuckle as he wiped his mouth and chin.

	"Yeah," gasped Scott.  "Get up here, now!"

	Scott scooted up further on the bed and lay back while Marty knelt on the
edge.  As Scott tore at the elastic wasteband of the jock, Marty had to
stand up again, freeing his oozing and rock hard member from it's prison,
registering a slap against his six pack abs.  Scott just froze for a second,
taking in the beauty of this tanned and toned body, the six and a half
inches looking larger in proportion to his five-foot-six-inch frame.  He
grabbed Marty's cock.

	"Get over here," pleaded Scott as he lay back on the bed again, leading
Marty by the tool to straddle his chest.  Lifting his head and extending his
tongue, Scott began a repeat performance of what his bud had just done for
him, but from a much different angle.  Marty answered Scott's motions by
scooting forward, so that each knee was resting under one of Scott's
armpits.  Scott brought his hands up a bit, each grabbing one of Marty's
firm ass cheeks nudging his cock further and further into his waiting mouth.
  As Marty began fucking Scott's mouth, his cheeks were being roughly
kneaded by Scott's aggressive hands.

	"Yeah, man!  Work that ass while I fuck your mouth!  God, I love that!!"
Scott's hands became more aggressive, roughly handling both of Marty's ass
cheeks, and he even let go with the right hand and gave him a smart slap.
"Ooooooohh," he sighed as he continued to slowly work his cock in and out of
Scott's drooling mouth.

	Marty suddenly withdrew his dick from Scott's mouth.  Even though he missed
the hot tool it was quickly replaced by Marty's ravishing hot tongue.  Marty
lay on top of his buddy, grinding their cocks together while he licked and
sucked Scott's mouth...then his ears...and then his neck.  "You do know what I
like, don't you?" he whispered into Scott's ear.  Scott just moaned.

	Suddenly, Marty sat up on his friend, reaching behind and grabbing Scott's
stiff and aching member.  He rubbed it between his ass cheeks, raising and
lowering himself, creating a very pleasant friction that made Scott grin,
though he wasn't quite picking up on where Marty was going.

	Marty leered down at Scott, working his cock between his ass cheeks.  Scott
continued stroking Marty's very wet dick as he raised and lowered himself
over Scott's abdomen. "God some lube, buddy?"

	"Huh?  What the..."

	"I need you to fuck me, man!  I want this inside of me."

	"Oh, shit!  I've never fucked another guy before!!  I don't know...are you
sure?"

	"You asked me earlier if I was serious.  Do I look like I'm joking?  I need
your big dick inside of me.  I have a condom in my wallet. But we're gonna
need some help to get this monster where he wants to go.  It's been a while
and I'm gonna be pretty tight.

	"But I never..."

	"You've fucked chicks, right?  Same thing, but tighter, and some say
better."

	"Hell yeah I've nailed my share, but never done another dude."

	"You're gonna love it.  Trust me.  Do you trust me?" Marty asked as he
leaned in and gave Scott another long, passionate kiss.  "Let's do this
bud," he whispered in Scott's ear.  "I need your cock inside of me.  I asked
if you trust me."

	"I do.  There's some Vaseline on the shelf in the closet, I think."


	"Not my favorite, but it'll do," Marty sighed as he moved his left leg over
and onto the floor.  As he was standing he leaned in and kissed Scott again,
and before standing upright, flicked his tongue in and out of his ear.  "I'm
gonna rock your world, dude.  Virgin cock, I love it!!'  He snickered.
Scott just grinned.

	As Marty went to the closet and reached up looking for the pale yellow
plastic jar, Scott marveled at the shapely ass a few feet away.  He was so
firm, so fit, so gorgeous.  "Un-fucking-believable," he thought to himself,
but he was suddenly wracked with self-doubt.  "Do I really want to go
through with this?  Can I?"  He'd never imagined actually penetrating
another guy, figuring instead that he'd save the "real sex" for the women
who would come and go from his life, and for his eventual wife.  He had
looked forward to enjoying plenty of hot oral sex with guys while in
college, and he'd wanted to get with Marty since the first instant after he
opened the door to the room on their first meeting.  "But getting my dick up
inside Marty and banging away like that?  Shit, I don't know."

	Marty turned, jar of lube in hand and a lusty leer on his face, and he
sensed Scott's mood change.  He slowly stepped to the foot of the bed, and
crawled up in between Scott's legs, urging him with his forearms to spread
them a bit further as he slid further up.  "Relax, man, you really are gonna
love this.  Been havin' fun so far, right?"  Scott just nodded.  "Ya' don't
think your old bud Marty would lead ya' wrong now, do ya"?

       Scott considered shrugging "I don't know," but instead found himself
shaking his head back and forth "no."

       "Atta boy.  You're not going to regret it one bit.  But first, let's
get this big guy back to fucking condition," Marty whispered as he noticed
the now only half-hard state of Scott's tool.  He went back to little licks
around the inside of Scott's thighs.  Even though Scott had showered less
than thirty minutes before, the taste of sweat on his skin was unmistakable,
and it excited Marty.  The flesh jumped a bit and quivered under his teasing
tongue and lips.  Cupping Scott's sac in his hand, he lifted his balls and
began licking, then sucking underneath them.  The combination of warm
moisture and just the right amount of pressure down there was exquisite, and
it brought a low moan from Scott, as he placed his hand on the back of
Marty's head and gently rubbed his appreciation.  Marty moved up just a bit,
flicking the nut sac teasingly with his tongue.  He then bathed it
completely, taking first the left, then the right orb into his mouth,
rolling each around and lightly sucking. Grabbing the base of Scott's cock
with his encircled thumb and forefinger, he pointed it straight up, lifted
his head directly over it and plunged it in his waiting mouth all the way
down to the root.  Marty loved the feel of Scott's pubic hairs tickling his
nose, and he remained there for several seconds feeling Scott's pulse
throbbing through the raging muscle.  He let out a low moan, more like a
purr, and the vibrations that emitted brought a "Jeeeeeeezus
Chriiiiiiiiist!" from his appreciative buddy.  Scott grabbed and pulled at
the sheets of the bed and tried very hard not to let out a whoop that would
gain the attention of every other guy on his floor.

       As he eased his head off of the very hot and hard object of his
attention, he slowly trailed the tongue up the entire shaft with a smile on
his face.  He raised his eyes and looked directly into his friend's, and
Scott saw a look that said this man is clearly on a mission.

       Marty lifted himself up and straddled Scott's abs.  He massaged his
pecs for a minute and played with the nipples as he leaned down and gave his
partner a very passionate, tongue lashing kiss.  Scott gave as good as he
got, indicating to Marty that he wanted this as bad as he did.  Leaning
down, Marty whispered "you sure you're ready for this buddy?  You really do
trust me on this one, don't you?  I promise that I'll never try anything
with you that you're not up for."  Reaching behind him, he grabbed Scott's
raging hard on and gave it a squeeze.  "And you are definitely UP for this,
my very horny friend."

       Scott simply nodded, but this time there was a sense of urgency in
his acquiescence.

       From where he was positioned, Marty could reach his wallet on the
dresser near Scott's bed.  He grabbed it and fished out the foil-wrapped
condom.  He held it up by the corner a foot above Scott's face.  With a much
more serious tone now, he said, "Rule number one: I only play safe.  Rule
number two: I only play safe with other guys who only play safe."

       "I wouldn't have you any other way, my boy" Scott said with a light
smile.

       "No fucking shit, you wouldn't," Marty whispered.

       Grabbing the package in his front teeth, he tore it open and removed
the rubber.  "Sheepskin," he said holding it up.  "I don't do very well with
latex."

       "I'll try to remember that," Scott replied as Marty positioned
himself on his thighs and began rolling the sheath down the large weapon.
He then dipped a couple of fingers into the jar of lube, the cover having
been removed some time before, though Scott couldn't recall when or how.  He
rubbed it between both hands to warm it up and liquefy it a bit, then used
both greasy hands to lube up Scott's stiff, wrapped member.  Scooting back
up over Scott's midsection, he returned his fingers to the jar, then reached
down and behind to apply the balm to his twitching hole.  He loosened
himself up a bit with one, then both lubed fingers, all the while staring
intently into his buddy's eyes.

       Inching back a little, he reached back and grabbed his new favorite
toy, standing it straight up.  He moved backward, guiding the head of the
missile toward its intended target.  Scott felt his cock come into contact
with the resistant pucker, and as Marty moved back a little and his dick
started to bend, he thought "Shit! There's now way in hell he's gonna get me
up in there."

       But, before he'd even completed the thought, he felt a pop, and his
eyes grew wide with the realization that Marty's entrance had given way to
the invader.  Marty closed his eyes tightly and winced.  Through gritted
teeth he issued a long hiss, followed by "oh, shit, man!!"

       Scott was a little alarmed.  "Dude, we gotta stop?  Am I hurting you?
  I don't want to hurt you.  Get off if you have to."

       "No way, man...no pain, no gain.  Besides, you ain't doin' nothin'.  It
burns a bit, but the pain goes away and then it's more than worth it.  Just
give me a sec, OK?"

       "You're the one driving this ship."

       With his hands on Scott's chest, Marty's expression gradually
transformed from one of intense pain to satisfaction, then to something that
looked like bliss.  Along the way, Scott felt Marty slowly lowering his ass,
swallowing his tool inch by inch.  A few seconds later, Scott realized that
Marty's ass cheeks were resting fully on his groin, and he felt Marty's
balls resting on his abdomen.

       "God damn!" Scott whispered.  "So fucking tight.  So fucking hot!
What a sweet ass!"

       Marty opened his eyes and licked his lips through a lascivious smile.
  "Just getting' started, champ."  Without raising off the pole, he moved
his hips back and forth a little, forcing Scott's throbbing member to feel
every millimeter of his depth.  He slowly raised his ass until only Scott's
head was inside of him, then slowly returned to his sitting position.  Up
once more, this time leaning forward and locking his lips onto his friend's.
  They fought another tongue battle, with Marty winning this round, sucking
Scott's tongue deep into his mouth.  He released him and, nose to nose,
whispered, "ready, stud?  Let's take a ride."

       With that, he began a slow rhythm, raising and lowering his ass, with
Scott laying rather still, not quite believing what was happening.

       Marty's eyes closed again and he moaned a few times on the down
stroke.  "Oooh Fuck!  I knew it! I was right! So fucking good, man.
Hot...fucking...cock."  His pace quickened, and Scott began moving his hips to
meet each move of Marty's hot, erotic dance.  Scott looked down and saw his
Marty's hard tool dancing in the air, occasionally smacking his abs on the
downstroke.  Marty's precum was evident on his abdomen.  Scott wiped it with
his right hand, and reached up and grabbed the throbbing tool.  He began
stroking his appreciation in the very same rhythm as Marty's motion on his
own cock.

       Both men were drenched in sweat, occasionally uttering whispered
gasps and moans.  Scott's were mostly uninteligable; only the occasional
"fuck!" or "sweet."  His knees were bent now, feet flat on the bed, and with
this leverage he tried to thrust himself deeper and deeper into his pal's
tight hole.

       Suddenly, Marty raised his ass one more time and held it there.  He
leaned Scott and gave him one more slurping kiss.  Ending the connection,
and still holding his hole around the head of Scott's dick, he whispered,
"OK, buddy, I've been doing most of the work so far.  Time to earn your
keep."  He gazed into Scott's eyes and insistently whispered, "Now fuck me.
I want you to nail me with all you have, and do it now you fucking stud."

       He released Marty's dick and grabbed one ass cheek in each hand.
Using his legs, he began thrusting upward as hard as he could.

       "Faster! Harder! C'mon, man, gimme all you got!"

       Urged on, Scott flew into full gear, pounding his cock upward as hard
and fast as he believed he could.  He was sure the sound of his contact with
Marty's ass would be heard out in the hallway, but could not have cared less
at this point.

       He was rewarded by his friend with whispered cries of appreciation.
"Yeah, buddy.  That's it. Oh God! So fucking good! Please keep going! That's
what I need!"

       Sweat ran down Marty's face, a few drops hitting Scott's face and
chest as he rolled his head back and forth in ecstasy.

       "Oh God!" Scott moaned.  "So fucking close.  Gonna cum man!  Gotta
shoot my load."

       "About time, dude." Marty grinned and sat squarely on Scott's pulsing
cock.  As he tightened his muscles around the member, he felt it pulse and
expand.  Scott could barely control the volume, but managed a mostly
whispered "Fuuuuuuuck!" as Marty then felt the cock inside of him twitch and
the condom expand at the head.   At the same moment, Marty's member began to
erupt.  Scott saw his abs contract several times, each motion matched with a
muffled "mmph, mmmph!" The first shot cleared Scott's head to the right, and
a rope of semen painted his chest.  The second hit him squarely on the chin,
leaving a trail down his neck and onto his pecs.  Neither was sure whether
there were three or four more, but by the time he was done, Scott's torso
was painted in an abstract pattern of Marty's seed.

       Marty fell forward, laying his forehead on the mattress to the right
of Scott's head.  Both men had their eyes closed and were panting heavily.
They lay still like that for a couple of minutes, the slowly deflating dick
still buried inside of Marty.  He issued a whispered chuckle and nuzzled
Scott's ear.  "Learn anything new today, professor?"

       "I feel like a fucking genius," Scott laughed.

       Marty slowly raised off of his friend, allowing the mostly soft tool
to gently slide out of his hole.  He squeezed himself onto the mattress on
his side, back to the wall, and went to lay his right arm across Scott's
chest.  Most of the fluid he had left there had been smeared between both
mens' chest and abdomens, but a sizeable drop remained on Scott's chin and a
visible streak marked his neck.  Marty reached up and wiped the globule off
his chin and offered it to Scott's lips.  He winced and recoiled his head a
bit and asked "Dude! Are you serious? That's nasty!"

       "How many times are you going to ask me that question today?" Marty
replied with a grin as he licked the digit clean.  He rolled his semen
around in his mouth for a second before swallowing.  "Mmmmm" he avowed.
Then he wiped the little bit still visible on Scott's neck and offered it up
one more time.

       "Buddy, you've stuck with me all the way so far today.  Here, there's
not as much.  Give it a try."

       Slowly, Scott's lips parted a bit and he moved his face forward a
little.  Marty's fingers came into contact with his lower lip, and much of
the serum wiped off.  He cautiously sucked Marty's finger into his mouth.
It wasn't as bad as he'd imagined after all.  A bit acrid tasting, sort of
salty and a little sweet at the same time.  Then he licked his lips.  Not
what he'd call a really good taste, but not nasty either.

       "I think it's an acquired taste," he mused with a slight grin on his
face.

       "Yeah, I guess it is.  You'll just have to keep on acquiring it."

       "You gonna keep dishing it up?" Scott asked with a smile as he raised
up and got off of the bed.  He took a few steps to the side of his desk and
peeled off the spent condom.  He dropped it in the waste basket, making a
mental note to empty it out before Craig got back.  Then he went to the
closet and grabbed a washcloth and a towel.  He wet the cloth, wrung it out
and gave himself a quick sponge bath from chin to crotch.  He rinsed and
wrung it again, and tossed it to Marty.

       "Here.  You're a mess." After drying himself with the towel he tossed
that to Marty who did the same, then he returned to lay down for a few more
minutes of idle banter.

       There wasn't any cuddling or kissy-face. They compared notes and
histories on sex with men.  As if it wasn't already apparent to both men,
Marty clearly had the edge, in terms of both volume and variety.  Scott
learned that, like he, Marty's  first oral experience was in middle school,
but with a friend rather than a cousin.  Both guys still professed to love
sex with women, but agreed that what they'd just done more than justified
the experience "on the other side."  Likewise, neither was interested in
pursuing a committed, intimate relationship with another man.  That was an
unspoken relief to each of them.  Marty did admit, however, that he'd had a
"fuck buddy" during the last school year, and that as far as he knew, that
sexual relationship was an exclusive one for each of them.  Marty explained
that they were both versatile, and that "when it comes to good old fucking,
I like to give as good as I get."  That startled Scott a bit, but he figured
he'd worry about it if and when the time came.  "But it was casual, purely
physical, and the dude graduated last May.  Last I heard he was taking a job
in Minneapolis.  I still have his e-mail address, in case I ever visit the
Twin Cities, but we don't really keep in contact."

       Marty educated Scott on some of the hot spots in the Madison area.
He told him which buildings on campus are good for cruising, and even a
couple of bathrooms with glory holes in the stalls.  He talked of a couple
of adult bookstores, one within easy walking distance of the campus where
cruising was known to go on, "but I guess it's pretty hit and miss, and you
need to have a place to go if you make a solid contact.  The city's pretty
much cracked down on public action, at least as far as the bookstores are
concerned."  He also mentioned a few pretty cruisy gay bars, though Scott
could never see himself setting foot inside of one.  There were also a
couple of parks that were known locally as being good spots to spend some
time "if you're just looking to get your rocks off with another guy."

       Marty looked at his watch.  "Shit, it's a lot later than I thought.
No way I'm going to catch up with those guys now."  He laughed a little and
said "though with the workout you just gave me, I don't think I'd be worth a
damn on the court.  It's gonna be hard enough trying to not walk funny for
the rest of the day, maybe tomorrow, too.  That was a hell of a ride you
gave me there, professor."

       Scott grinned, "only following directions.  As they began getting
dressed, he asked, "What are you going to tell Craig and the guys?"

       Marty already had his jock strap and shirt back on, and was shaking
his shorts to get the legs straight.  "I'm going to tell them that I came
back here and found you jacking off and that you raped me as punishment for
coming in the room without knocking."  He had a huge smile.  "Either that,
or I'll just say I wasn't feeling as well as I thought, and got sidetracked
on the way back to the gym.  One of the virtues of being as unpredictable as
I am is that these guys have come to expect me to be a no-show for no
apparent reason.  I'll come up with something, and they'll take it just
fine.  Don't sweat it."  His shorts were on and the string was tied.  He'd
never removed his socks, and stepping into his shoes was a simple matter.
He didn't bother to tie them.

       At that, Marty was standing by the door, hand on the knob.  He was
holding the phone and wallet in the other hand. "Well, my man, you have some
work to get done, and I'm going to head over toward the gym, just in case
those guys are still around.  Probably see you and Craig at the commons
later today?"

       "I guess.  See ya' later."  Scott, still naked as the day he was born
reached over and grabbed the back of Marty's head, pulling him toward his
face.  They kissed, long and gentle.  It felt right.

       Marty opened his eyes and gazed into Scott's for a moment.  "See ya'
when I see ya'.  I'm gonna open this door now.  You really wanna be standing
right there when I do?"

       Scott took a couple steps back so as to be out of the doorway.  Marty
opened it, looked back with a smile, winked one more time and quietly and
slowly closed it.  Scott just turned around with a warm grin on his face.

       "Un-fucking-believable" he said under his breath as he rooted through
the top drawer for a pair of boxers.  He dressed quickly, knowing that he'd
need another shower eventually, but figured it could wait.  He grabbed the
wastebasket and exited the room, turning left toward the chute that led to
the dorm's incinerator.

       When he got to the room, his phone was ringing.  He figured it was
his mother, whom he knew would be calling at least every weekend with trivia
from the home town.

       "Hello," he said, feeling a bit distracted, still marveling over all
that had occurred in the room in the past hour.

       "Scotty, is that you?" asked a fairly familiar female voice, but not
his mother's.  He was trying to place it.  "It's Maureen McCarthy.  How are
you, dear?"

       "Senator!" he was jolted back to reality.  "Great to hear from you!
To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?"  He was working up as much charm
as he could muster under the circumstances.

       "Can the senator crap!"

       "OK, Maureen, how the hell are ya'?"

       "That's better.  You must know that I promised your folks that I'd
check up on you from time to time when I was in town.  Need to make sure
you're keeping your nose clean in the big city."  Scott chuckled a bit under
his breath at the reference to his nose.  "If you only knew what I was doing
to my nose in the wee hours of the morning," he thought.

       "So, you've got, what, a full week under your belt at college now?
How's it going?"

       "Great, so far.  I'm already hard at work on my first poli-sci
paper."  He sat down at his desk, reached over and started booting up his
computer.

       "Atta boy.  Still planning on a double major?"

       "Yeah, poli-sci and history."

       "That's pretty ambitious, but I know you can handle it.  Law school
after that?"

       "Maybe.  I have some time to decide on that one though."

       "Are you making some friends, Scott?  I know you're the only one from
your graduating class to attend the UW.  I hope you're getting on with your
new roommate."

       "Oh, he's very cool.  We're gonna do just fine.  He's a journalism
major from Rockford, and we have a lot in common.  He's introduced me to
some of his old buds from high school, and the college bonding is well under
way."  The image of Marty's head rocking back and forth, eyes rolling back
in his head flashed through his head.

       "Wonderful.  I knew you'd make the most of the college life.  You're
going to knock `em all dead, I'm sure of it.  Say, what's your class
schedule like during the week?  We're now  back in session after the Labor
Day recess, so I'm going to be around a lot the next several weeks.  I'd
love to take you out to lunch."

       He mentally reviewed the class schedule.  "On Tuesday and Thursday, I
have a hole in my schedule between 11:00 and 2:45.  I tried to move it
around and get the classes closer together, but you know how freshmen get
screwed on the scheduling."

       "Yeah, but back in the day, we had to do all of our registration on
foot.  I still remember trotting all over that damned campus with your dad,
fighting to get into the classes we needed.  You on-line wimps have it way
too easy, you know."  Maureen was a Badger through and through, "Class of
`60" she liked to remind him, just like his old man.

       "I know, I know, I've heard it all before Maureen...ad nauseum."

       "And you'll keep on hearing it as long as either your father or I are
drawing breath.  We're entitled.  What say we meet for lunch around 11:30
this Tuesday?  I stay at the Inn on the Park when we're in session, do you
know where that is?"

       "It's the one right across from the capital, on the corner, right?"

       "That's it.  They have a decent dining room on the ground floor.
Nothing too fancy, but they serve a pretty good lunch.  And, if I'm needed
back at the office, it's just a stone's throw away.  But, it's early in the
current floor session, so there shouldn't be anything too pressing.  Sound
like a plan?"

       "Sounds great.  So, you gonna tear anybody up this round?"

       "Well, you know we're in the minority, so about all we can do is
bitch and moan.  But it's fun, anyway.  We can cover more of that on
Tuesday.  See you at 11:30 then?"

       "Inn on the Park.  11:30.  Tuesday.  Got it.  Looking forward to it."

       "Me too.  Now get to work on that paper."

       "Will do, Maureen.  Thanks for calling.  I'll say hi to the folks
when mom's inevitable weekend call comes in."

       Maureen laughed.  "You do that.  See you Tuesday.  Bye bye."

       "Bye now," and he hung up the phone.  It was hard to not feel a bit
inflated by the fact that he'd just ended a call from a state senator, and
that she'd been the one to call him.


       To be continued...