Date: Sun, 3 Dec 2006 19:33:23 -0800 (PST)
From: kevin Donovan <letsgonaked2000@yahoo.com>
Subject: The Association, chapter ten gay male college

Disclaimer: This is a work of gay fiction.  It will contain scenes
describing sex between adult males.  If that offends you, if you are
underage, or if it is illegal to possess such material where you are, then
stop now!

I appreciate your constructive comments.  Email me at
letsgonaked2000@yahoo.com Copyright held by the author.  Do not reproduce
without permission.

CHAPTER TEN: EXHIBITION

	Nicholas and I easily re-entered the physical routine of The
Association training.  We missed our swimming, though, and we began to swim
laps on Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday afternoons for an hour, then played
other sports afterward.  Not having clothes to change made it so easy!  We
just hopped out of the pool and went off to do another sport, without need
even for a towel.  In our academic sessions, we were far enough along so
that we could still do the French lessons during that period, using French
literature as our text.  I was finding calculus to make sense after all.
My gaps in biology and chemistry were filled in.  Nicholas, who had no real
academic deficiencies from the beginning, had completed an economics
curriculum just out of interest, and was working through anthropology. .

	Adam announced a change of procedure on Monday morning.  We were to
continue the total body shaving routine, but from now on, we had to pair
with someone we had never shaved before.  That, of course, meant examining
the intimate, private parts of more and more different guys, and having
them touch our own, as we rotated around the group.  At that point, I was
so inured to the thought of touching and being touched, absolutely
anywhere, that it didn't bother me in the least.  However, I felt an odd
lurch in the pit of my stomach at the thought of Nicholas being with the
other men in that way.  Now, that was just crazy, and I knew it; after all,
he had raunchy sex with other guys right in front of me.  But that was the
thing-it was right in front of me, and I was part of it in a way.  This was
a different kind of branching out, or so it seemed.  I resolved that I
would not dwell on that sort of thing.

	Anyway, the week went by swiftly, week number four of our
captivity.  I shaved William on Tuesday and Patrick on Friday (reversed for
Nicholas).  I was certainly minutely familiar with both of their bodies by
now, and they with mine.  Patrick didn't take that much of a touch-up, and
I had time to look around the shower as he and I rinsed lather from our
skin.  Good God!  What a change I saw!  It had been four weeks of
Marine-like basic training (only kinder), with spa-like cuisine (only
tastier).  None of us had much excess weight to lose, and by now, it was
gone!  As young, active males, we could burn off ten pounds in one week,
not to mention a month.  Those who could use a few pounds had placed them
in exactly the right places, too.  I figured many of the guys had lost 20
pounds from waists and butts and gained 10 in thighs, biceps, and chests.
It was an extraordinary sight to see these muscular, toned men laughing and
joking as they shaved one another's smooth bodies under the streaming
shower heads.  In the beginning, I had wondered how The Association was
going to make exceptional specimens of the rag-tag group they had
assembled.  Apparently, they were real pro's at recognizing potential.
Along with the skin treatments, all-over tans, dental improvements, two or
three now wearing contact lenses, and physical training, my new friends had
been given perfect masculine beauty-but there was something else, too.
Every man in that shower exuded a new sense of confidence, maturity, and
poise.  We had two months to go, and already, we were ready to take on any
challenge.

	At breakfast Saturday morning, all the talk was about the
recreation activity for the evening.  The previous two had been tame
compared to the sex demonstration.  One had been a dance, with Owen and
Dennis as instructors, silly and fun, but not particularly exciting.  We
all recognized that it was a good thing socially to be an accomplished
dancer, but it was more like a class than a fun event to do salsa with a
naked man, fussing over who had the lead.  The next week, there was a pool
party, with Island cuisine and plenty of tropical drinks.  It did
degenerate into sexcapades for about half the group, who made out in the
pool or sucked and fucked fairly discretely in the shadows.  The music was
good, and not so loud that we could not carry on a conversation, and I
found the occasion helpful as a mixer, for getting to know more of the guys
on a deeper level.  But the general feeling was that we were due for
something more memorable.

	Nicholas and I enjoyed an afternoon of fly-fishing on the club
stream, along with Lukas, Paul, Michael, and Peter.  We both caught several
nice Brookies, the native trout of the region, and had a great time.  But
still no one knew what was on for the night.

	Dinner was a cook-out again, on the terrace, with liquor flowing,
always enjoyable.  The staff produced some of the best barbecued ribs I had
ever tasted.  At the end of the meal, our leaders led us down to the
training floor and told us to hit the showers.  We joked among ourselves
that we must have been messy eaters, and commented how nice it was not to
have to worry with napkins or ruined clothing, just rinse the sauce off
afterward.

       After we dried ourselves and began to reassemble outside the
showers, Adam and the others led the way to the stairs again-but this time,
they went down one more level, to a basement dungeon (called "The Crypt")
we'd never been to before.  At the entrance, two hooded men, presumably
Dennis and Owen, judging from their naked bodies, handed out black hoods
like their own, which we buckled on without waiting for instruction.  The
hoods were light-weight black nylon, and they covered the scalp and bridge
of the nose, but were cut around the eyes, nostrils, mouth, and chin.  Now,
the magnificent bodies of the men of the group were similar enough that,
without hair patterns for a clue, in many cases, we would be hard to tell
apart, especially in dim light.  My best bet proved to be checking a man's
most unique visible part-his dick!

	Having just turned nineteen, I had never been to a men's
bath-house, but I knew instantly that was what this was set up to be.  It
was virtually pitch black in there, but as we groped our way inside, our
eyes gradually adjusting, a bright light came on somewhere in the center of
a maze-like structure of partitions, shedding a weak light to the outer
areas.  We followed the dim forms of Adam and the others as they led us
down the one almost-straight passageway into the center of the large
labyrinth.  Side corridors led off of it.

	All the walls and floors were painted a dull black.  (And by the
way, like all the floors at The Farm, they were immaculately
clean--everyone went about barefoot as well as bare-everything-else, yet
the staff did such a thorough and relentless job of cleaning floors that
our feet never seemed to get dirty.)  A square stage occupied the middle of
the room, with a padded bench at its center.  Spotlights shone on the
stage, and there were even mirror-balls hanging in the center and the four
corners to cast dots of light in all directions.  There were padded benches
scattered about the room, but not enough to seat everyone at once.

       We sat or stood, awaiting further instructions, but all that
happened was that loud techno music began to play, and Adrian hopped up
onto the center of the stage and began to work up a hard-on.  We could
hardly help but watch.  He quickly rolled his foreskin back and began to
milk at his unit.  He gained his impressive, full length and girth, and
began to jack for us.  Transfixed, we watched, many fondling our own dicks.

	As Adrian performed his solo-jerk show, men moved around the area,
speaking into one another's ears, fondling one another's cocks, or just
stroking their own and watching.  A bi-sexual porn video began to play on a
screen on a back wall of the room.  On another wall, straight porn was
projected, two men double-fucking a woman.  On the third wall, gay porn
appeared.  The fourth wall had the entry hallway.

	The music was hypnotic.  Adrian was an accomplished jacker.  His
strong, lean body moved with grace and agility, the light, golden hair
glinting in the spotlights.  He had entered a sexual zone, scarcely aware
of our presence.  His head rolled, eyes half- closed.  Occasionally, he
reached for a squirt of lubrication from a large bottle beside the bench.
After some time, he began to pant, his rippling stomach muscles heaving.
His fist flew on his dark, swollen member.  Then, he thrust his hips
forward several times, his magnificent butt muscles as tight as they could
be, and several jets of milky fluid erupted from his cock, landing five and
six feet in front of him.  Later, other globs flew in all directions,
landing all around his feet.  He wrung the last drops from his spent organ
and came to his senses, smiling, and saluting us with a graceful bow as we
applauded, whistled, and hooted.

	Immediately, Owen appeared from nowhere and leaped onto the stage,
his body moving to the rhythm of the music before he even landed.  His
beautiful, shapely dick bounced loosely around as his lithe frame found its
groove.  His expert hand massaged his member, and it responded to the
master's touch by expanding and stiffening.  Still, it bounced with his
motions, but now it was a rigid pole jutting from his crotch.

	Owen was, simply put, a beautiful man, but his best features were
his tawny skin and his shiny, dark hair.  His white teeth gleamed from his
neatly trimmed beard.  Again, we were captivated.  In just over ten
minutes, he rewarded us, as Adrian had, with a hip- thrusting,
mouth-gaping, ball-wrenching orgasm of man-milk, ejaculating several feet
in front of him, even spattering Elijah and Lamar, who had ventured too
close to the action.  Again, there was whistling and cat-calls along with
the applause, and Owen, grinning, took his bow.

	Now blasts of stage fog emerged from the wings in three directions,
and Dennis and Frank took the stage together, running on from opposite
sides, emerging from the dark mist like apparitions.  They danced as a
pair, choreographed, coming together to embrace and whirl around, then
separating to gyrate individually.  At the same time, both stroked up big
boners, and occasionally, as they came together, they would fondle one
another, kiss, or even mouth the other's cock.  Finally, Frank lay back on
the bench and Dennis began to blow his cock expertly.  Occasionally, he
looked up into Frank's eyes and the two exchanged an intimate smile.  It
was clear that they were regular lovers.

	After lavishing oral attentions onto Frank's thick, heavy dick,
Dennis pulled him up and took the bench, kneeling in its center.  Frank
moved in behind him, smeared a finger of lube on his ass, and smoothly slid
his cock in to the hilt.  Now the dance continued, but with a very
different choreography, the dance of anal sex.  Frank pumped in time to the
music, and Dennis responded with wriggling and swaying his hips into
Frank's ramming hips.

	This continued, gradually accelerating, until abruptly, Frank
pulled his slimy unit out and turned, displaying a cock belching blasts of
white man-cum.  Behind him in the spotlight, we could see that Dennis'
ass-hole gaped from the stretching it had gotten from Frank's big sausage.

	The pair took their bows, and we looked around for the next act.
It could only be Adam, and I'm sure I was not the only one who would have
willingly waited quite a while for the pleasure of seeing that body
writhing in sexual bliss.  But no one appeared.  The music continued, but
the fog dissipated.  In a few minutes, it was clear that the leaders' show
was over.  Suddenly, I heard several voices begin a chant, "Nich'las 'n
Doug-las, Nich'las 'n Doug-las."  More voices joined in, and the guys began
clapping as they chanted louder and louder.  Several clapped us on the
shoulders, and a couple of guys began to push us toward the stage.  I
looked behind me.  Guys were grinning and nodding, and gesturing toward the
platform.  Nicholas grinned shyly and shrugged.

	My big head told me I ought to be ashamed to participate in a
spectacle like the guys were demanding.  Compliantly, I blushed with proper
embarrassment.  But my little head, which was growing bigger by the second,
was speaking louder at that particular time.  It said, hell, why not?  If
Dennis and Frank can do it, why not us?  You like being looked at, anyway.
My big head threw in the towel and said, oh, what the fuck, go for it.

	So I took Nicholas' arm and dragged him, not protesting seriously,
up to the stage.  We started to dance-most moves compliments of the four
drinks we'd had, maybe a few stolen from Adrian's instruction-occasionally
coming together for a grope.  I leaned over and whispered into Nicholas'
ear, "You want top or bottom?"

       He danced a few steps, considering.  "Bottom," he mouthed.

       Nicholas pranced about me, his big dick flopping.  Gradually, he
settled to his knees and leaned into my own flopping boner, kissing it,
licking at it, and finally wrapping his lips around its head.  He slid it
further down his throat and, in time to the music, engulfed it to the root
like a boa consuming a rat.  When his lips reached my smooth pubic mound,
the audience broke into applause.  He held his breath and worked on my head
with his throat muscles.  One more breath of that activity, and I'd have
blown my load right there.  But he slid back, gave it a few more slurps,
and turned to the bench.  He placed his butt right at the end of the bench,
lay back, and pulled his ankles up, raising his hips off the bench to my
hip level.  My rod was at maximum pressure, and I slathered on a handful of
lube as I approached my friend.

       Taking his knees in my hands, I lifted him just a few inches further
so that the head of my cock pressed right at his asshole.  Then, while
leaning in, I lowered him back down, causing my swollen extremity to slide
inside.  His ankles rested on my shoulders as my hips began to hunch with
the throbbing music.  My eyes closed, and I entered another realm, the
misty land of sexual need.

	I fucked my best friend under the glaring spotlights as the rest of
my friends clapped their hands in the hypnotic rhythm of the music.  I
didn't take long.  I felt a huge flood of semen rising in my pipes, and I
pulled out to shoot spasms of it across Nicholas' stomach, chest, and face
without a manual touch at all.  I was firing blast after blast, while the
crowd cheered and applauded.  At the end, my dick still dripping, Nicholas
swung his feet around and stood, and we took our bows, a little sheepish
now that the surge of horniness was released.

	As we stepped off the stage, several guys clapped me on the
shoulder or slapped me on the butt, grinning widely.  We moved to the edge
of the large, center room, and there we encountered a roll of paper towels
hanging on the wall beside the door.  There would be others strategically
located around the labyrinth.  Nicholas mopped up his front, and I swabbed
my crotch.  There was a large container of lube mounted on the wall there,
too, and I took a big squirt and fingered it into my butthole.  Might as
well be prepared, I thought.

	"What do you think?" asked Nicholas.  "You want to go around
together, or split up to play, and get together later?"

	I caught myself before saying, "I dunno, what to you want to do?"
Nicholas had asked a legitimate question, and he really wanted my answer.
I gave it some thought.

	"I don't guess we can really play with others together, can we?
Let's split up for awhile.  We know how to find one another when we want
to, right?"

	"Yeah, look for the hottest guy with the handsomest dick."

	"You do that, and you'll go right to Adam," I laughed.

	"Well, I could get into that, too," he answered, chuckling.  "But
don't be so sure, stud.  I look at you every day, you know."

	I walked away grinning, appreciative of the genuinely nice guy my
partner always proved to be.  The other men were beginning to wander into
the dark passageways of the outer rings of the labyrinth, too.  Apparently,
they had had their fill of watching others have sex, and were ready to
enjoy some of their own.  Nicholas set out the opposite direction.

	It got much darker as I proceeded.  Soon, I could hardly tell when
another man was near, padding by silently on bare feet.  A few of the
palest men made sort of luminous shapes as they approached, but most of us
were tanned or dark-complexioned enough to remain invisible.  I bumped into
several, either ramming their asses from the rear, or colliding more firmly
head-on.

	One such collision brought out a sort of "umph" of surprise from
the man I encountered.  His hand came forward and found my dick, and I
responded by reaching out for his.  "Oh, hi, Douglas," he said quietly.

	"Hi, William," I answered.  "Sorry, man."

	"No problem.  Good show out there, hot.  See you 'round later."
And he was off in search of a less familiar playmate.

	I snickered.  So it's come to this, I thought-my friends and I
recognize one another by feeling dicks.  Shit.

	Two men just ahead were in a tight embrace, leaning against the
partition.  I couldn't tell who they were, and moved on.  A few yards
beyond, a single man was pressing his front against the partition as
tightly as he could.  At first, I wondered what in the world he was doing.
Then, a few feet later, I saw a faint light shining through the partition
from the corridor on the other side.  I felt of it.  It was a round hole
about five inches in diameter, just short of waist high.  I saw the shape
of a naked man pass on the other side.  Aha!  I realized.  That was a guy
with his cock pressed against a glory hole, a new thing for me.  I bent and
peeked through the hole.  I could see the dim shape of a man crouching at
the hole nearby, his face pressed to the wall and bobbing.  The other man
who had just passed had turned, and was standing nearby, watching him suck
cock.

	I had just cum all over Nicholas ten minutes earlier, but this was
pretty hot.  I began to get half hard again.  I shrugged and put my dick
through the hole.  I lifted my balls and stuffed them through, too.  This
was sort of like fishing, I thought.  Put out the worm, and see what fish
finds and falls for it.

	It didn't take long.  Maybe the guy watching could hear the
scuffing sounds I made, and maybe he could even see a little.  Anyway, I
felt a hand gently finger around my dick and balls, and then grab hold and
take a few authoritative jacks on it.  Next, I felt a warm wetness as the
man's mouth engulfed my cock.  I had caught my fish, and my cock swelled to
hook him.

	I raised my hands against the wall in front of me, and just at the
right level, I found a couple of hand-hold indentations, which I grabbed to
help me press my hips against the wall.  Since I had just cum so recently,
it would have taken me a while to work up a load.  My unknown partner
worked strenuously on me for twenty minutes, and it felt absolutely
fabulous.  He was really good, and I wished I could have fed him his reward
more quickly.  But he gave up and moved on before I was quite ready.  My
boner was left sticking wetly out on the other side of the partition.
Someone else must have been nearby, because another hand flopped my
stiffie, and then another mouth consumed it very quickly.  The fresh mouth
worked hard, too, for ten more minutes.  This time, I was the one to give
up and pull out, before he wore the thing out with his strong sucking.

	Maybe I'd better find a way to get on bottom for a change, I
thought.  I'd be ready to cum again soon enough.

	And there were other guys with the same idea.  Around a corner, I
encountered a dark shape hunching a lighter one, standing upright in a
corner.  There was another, larger glory hole beyond that, with a guy
sticking his ass into it.  I could hear wet slaps coming through from the
other side, as someone else smacked his pelvis into this man's backside.

	This is cool, I thought.  Rauchy, AND anonymous.

	I became aware of someone moving around a few feet away from me.  I
felt that someone was watching me, checking me out, but I couldn't tell
who.  I moved slowly along the corridor, and the guy followed a few feet
behind.  I was listening for footsteps, but couldn't hear any.  I sort of
felt him back there.

	I came upon an indentation in the maze, lit by a small spotlight,
that held a life- size white plastic sculpt of a nude male, kneeling with
legs spread wide, on two columns.  The manikin had a large, stiff cock, and
a naked man was sucking on it.  He turned and almost ran into me.  From the
light shining on his dick, confirmed by his voice, I could tell it was
Ezekiel, and there was fresh whiskey on his breath.  He laughed.

	"Check it out, man," he grinned, winking.  "Squeeze its dick."  He
moved on down the dark corridor.

	I sniffed the rubbery penis.  Bourbon, and a quality brand, too.  I
felt the spongy shaft.  There was a tube running down it, and in the
center, an almost marble-sized bead, like in chemistry lab.  I put my mouth
to the head of the dildo and pinched the bead.  The molded phallus
ejaculated a shot of good whiskey into my mouth.  I pinched again and got
another.

	Then, in the dark hallway a few yards away, I collided with
someone, and grabbed his strong biceps.  This time, I did not need to feel
his dick.

	"Hey, Nicholas," I said.

	"Hey, Douglas."

	Damnation.  I knew it was him from his fuckin' SCENT!  It was a
pleasant smell, but unmistakably Nicholas.  Our enforced togetherness had
had its effect.

	"Put your mouth to its dick and squeeze its shaft. You'll get a
shot of whiskey," I explained.  Nicholas' look told me he thought I was
already drunk.  He smelled the liquor, but didn't know what I was talking
about.

	"Oh-kay," he drawled.

	We moved on in opposite directions.  I heard a whispered exchange
behind me as Nicholas encountered whoever was back there.  I turned a
corner and found myself in an open space, which had a six-foot round
cassock in the center, with a soft red light shining on it.  Atop the
cassock, four men writhed, two atop two, fucking.  I stopped to watch for a
moment or two.  It appeared to be Peter and Phillip on Keith and Jeremy.
They were busy, and I moved on, turning again.  I no longer had any idea
where I was in the maze.  I was beginning to feel quite intoxicated.

	I turned again, passing beneath a soft light.  I paused.  Straight
ahead, I saw another light just like it, and under that light I could make
out the form of a flawless male body.  The man was tall, shapely, muscled,
lithe and lean, and hung.  Our class was looking good, but no one looked
quite that good, even Nicholas, and it could not be Nicholas.  It must be
Adam, I concluded.  I raised my right arm slightly.  The man ahead raised
his left one.  I leaned onto the partition to my left.  He leaned into the
one at his right.

	Holy shit!  I reached out and took a step forward.  My hand
immediately touched the cool smoothness of the surface of the mirror.  My
jaw dropped, and so did my reflection's.

	That perfectly beautiful man was me!  Even drunk, I was astounded
by the revelation.

	For over a month, while exercising and dieting relentlessly, I had
not seen myself in a mirror.  I had no idea the transformation that had
taken place in me.  I was flabbergasted.  I also felt a little stupid for
mistaking my image in a mirror for someone else-don't even monkeys and
dolphins recognize themselves?  I shook my head wonderingly and turned
sharp left in front of the mirror.  As I stepped away, I caught a glimpse
of a perfectly beautiful naked man image in the mirror again.  Was it me
again?  No, couldn't be.  Nicholas, or Patrick, or....  I was totally
confused now.  I must really be drunk....