Date: Sat, 8 Dec 2007 11:14:54 -0800 (PST) From: kevin Donovan <letsgonaked2000@yahoo.com> Subject: the association, chapter 28, gay male college THE ASSOCIATION CHAPTER 28 FRUITION 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. We are approaching the conclusion of this novel (1 or 2 more chapters) and I will be taking an extended break from such writing. I thank the devoted readers who have made it this far with me and my fictional friends, and especially those who have taken the time to write to me. By request, I will attach again a list of url's for my other works on Nifty. I hope you enjoy them. /nifty/gay/beginnings/bare-ass-horseman /nifty/gay/beginnings/ah-nature /nifty/gay/rural/the-farm-boy/ /nifty/gay/college/the-roomie /nifty/gay/highschool/bryant/ /nifty/gay/encounters/hitcher /nifty/gay/authoritarian/the-harem /nifty/bisexual/adult-friends/jeffs-naked-adventures/ /nifty/gay/adult-friends/closets/ CHAPTER 28 The jangling phone jarred me into consciousness. The room was dark. The clock radio read 4:28. I was naked and hard on one side of the bed in a strange room, and there was a naked man beside me, his bare hip touching my thigh lightly. He stirred and raised his head up, squinting. Oh, yeah. Evan. We had enjoyed one another's bodies into the night, until inviting him to sleep over became kind of a moot point. The strange room was my new bedroom. The jangling phone was mine. I grabbed the receiver just as it began to ring for the third time. "Hop into your running shoes and come down to the front of the building. We'll pass by there in five. Sorry, but you have to wear the shorts now, too." So began my new life. Not that different from the summer-rude wake-up at ungodly hour, handsome naked man in my bed, early morning run with comrades. Evan had running shoes in his car, but no shorts. I found several (slit up the sides all the way to the elastic, and liner pouches already removed) in my new, neatly organized walk-in closet, which had shelves and drawers as well as hanging racks, eliminating the need for a dresser or chest of drawers in the bedroom. We slipped them on, hustled down to the garage for Evan's shoes (and to check out my new wheels for 30 seconds-it was like Nicholas' except in the deep red color). In front of the building, we found Patrick and three other residents already stretching. The others were Members and regular runners with the group: Randall, a young oral surgeon in his first year of practice; Aaron, a graduate student in psychology; and Stuart, an assistant professor of political science. I'd heard of him-a rising star with a new book out. All three new neighbors were outstanding male specimens, and I looked forward to having them each drop by to borrow a cup of sugar one day soon. A dozen more scantily clad, gorgeous men trotted around the corner within a few minutes, and we joined the pack. We ran for an hour and a half through the mostly- deserted streets of the city, attracting stares from some and waves from others- apparently, the group was a regular pre-dawn feature of the neighborhood. We ended in an alleyway, where the lead runner punched a number into a lock, and the door opened to reveal our club fitness center, a store-front containing, downstairs, all manner of weights and exercise equipment, plus a sauna, large hot-tub spa, gang showers, lockers, refreshment center, and johns, even several massage tables and a couple of hair-styling stations. Every man was naked before the door closed. All were beautifully put together, and there was some pretty serious meat hanging, too. Some went to do their weight routines, others to sauna or shower, but all came by and introduced themselves more thoroughly to me and Patrick. We learned that professional massages were offered twice a week, but most of the guys also took part in exchanges among themselves. We had hair styling, manicure, pedicure, and skin treatments on Tuesdays. The roof was screened for use as a sun deck, and on the second floor, there were a TV lounge, a bar, and a large mirrored room with three king-size beds-the orgy room! Several guys disappeared in that direction while we were chatting downstairs. Clearly, I'd have no shortage of sexual outlets with this group. There were five of us walking the two blocks back to our building, and by now it was past seven. Traffic was picking up, and so were the stares and smiles as we made our way, virtually naked, down the sidewalk. Back at the condo, I checked in with Nicholas to find that his morning had gone exactly like mine, except that, since he had had no bed-mate for the night, he'd taken advantage of an offered three-way after his run. I wasn't exactly jealous. I just missed my bro, that's all. But I found ways to occupy myself. In the afternoon, I took my new wheels out for a run on the highway. It was magnificent! I also had to try to get in touch with Stephanie, who was due back from France in a couple of days, and do some mundane chores like pick up some healthy food, since I hated eating out alone and, besides, now had a traffic-stopping movie-star physique to maintain. I gave Stephanie's mom a call, letting her know I had moved to a new apartment, and asking her to pass the word to Stephanie to give me a call when she got in, so that we could arrange to meet. Never my advocate, Steph's mom, Phyllis, was surprisingly civil to me, almost friendly on the phone. It seemed absence had raised my stock with her somehow. I'd be visiting my own parents over the weekend, so I wouldn't need much food. I bought for two, though, thinking that Patrick and I would probably dine together at least part of the time-and in Nicholas' absence, I had half a bed to fill as often as possible. Any of the Association guys I'd met so far in the area would fill that space nicely! Sure enough, Patrick and I got together at his place for dinner, a movie, and a long episode of familiar, easy-going sex. There were no wake-up calls any more, we had to set an alarm. But 4:30 found us stretching on the sidewalk in front of the building, ready for our morning run, this time with weight training afterward. Counting the group sex at the end, we spent nearly all morning at the fitness center. It became clear to me that I needed to keep my breakfast foods there, because that's where I would be for my first meal of the day most days. My visit to my parents was uneventful, but still a bit strange. Clearly, with both of them, I had turned some sort of corner. Mom was teary a lot of the time. Dad beamed with pride nearly all the time. Both were gaga over my film contract, which Mom took to explain the new Benz and condo. We passed a pleasant weekend together, but I was still glad to hit the road Sunday afternoon, and I'd sooner have spent the time with Nicholas. That would come next weekend, though. Stephanie had to be dealt with first. She had called on Friday from her parents' house, just as I was leaving for my folks' place, so we didn't have time to talk long. She'd be back at school on Monday, though, and since she didn't know my new condo, she suggested we meet at a café we used to frequent, and go from there. I was relieved to have a date set, and I began to rehearse various speeches designed to let her down gently and kindly, but break it off. I was having trouble with the gentle and kind part. I was seated in the café early, wearing cargo shorts, tee, and flip-flops, having already done my morning run, Nautilus routine, massage, and exchange of semen with two new friends, when Stephanie appeared. She had changed. She looked, well, Parisian. Dark clothing. New hair-style, apparently done by poorly trained birds. She looked around, and her glance passed over me first before she recognized me. Gee, had I changed that much? Her eyes widened, and she approached almost hesitantly. I stood and embraced her, but kissed her lightly on the cheek. This was awkward-how to send the right signal, and not confuse things from the outset. It seemed awkward for Stephanie, too. She sat, and nodded absently when the waitress offered coffee. "What happened to you?" she wanted to know, right off the bat. "You look so, well, different. Mature, but hip...all buff and everything." I shrugged. "So do you. Very French." I thought that would sound like a compliment. She did smile. "It was so strange not to be able to call you all summer. And I needed to, we needed to talk about some things. It was...a pretty eventful summer for me. "I might as well just be out with it, Doug. There's someone else. I met him in Paris this summer. I'm sorry. His name is Rene." Her tone was half-way between conciliatory and defiant. She paused to see how I was taking this. I decided to be mum, and try to look glum, though in fact, my insides were churning. "Look, I really didn't mean for it to happen, and I'm really sorry to hurt you. I know you had plans for us this fall. But, Doug, it has to be more than just sex all the time! We were good that way, but-well, I need more. Rene is so...so intellectual and smart, and sophisticated. And he was my program supervisor this summer. And he has persuaded me to go back for my sophomore year, in Paris." At last, she stopped rambling. I was looking at my coffee spoon, trying not to give myself away, but I could tell her eyes were boring into me through her entire spiel. There was a pause. I needed to say something. "It's been a pretty eventful summer for me, too, Steph, so I know what you mean. I think I've changed a lot, too. Who knows, maybe we wouldn't even click anymore, you know, like we did. It was good while it lasted, wasn't it? You gave me a pretty awesome first year-thanks for that." Stephanie was frowning slightly now, in thought. "You're taking this well," she observed. I shrugged. "My choices are...?" "Why do you have to turn all mature and everything now? And your hair, and- shoulders, and--why didn't you look like this last spring?" I shrugged again. "Healthy living." "Well," she said, "I should go. Rene will be by in a minute, and I should be outside so he doesn't come in looking for me." I leaned back, at ease now. "I don't mind. I think I'd like to meet him." Stephanie looked dubious, as if she were considering whether my poise was fake and a ruse for enticing the man inside so I could bust his chops as, admittedly, I might have done four months earlier. Just then, though, he sauntered inside, glancing around suspiciously for Stephanie in the company of the American Neanderthal she had, no doubt, described to him. Even sans beret, it was obvious he was the visiting Frenchman. He was medium height, medium weight, medium coloring, nondescriptly clothed in dark colors. He wore scholarly, but unbecoming, round, black-rimmed glasses. In his mid- twenties, his hair was thinning and receding slightly. When he saw us, his eyebrows shot up, and he looked me up and down-twice. He moved towards us, and Stephanie began to speak to him in French, explaining that everything was fine, and she'd like to introduce him to me. He answered softly, and I had the awkward feeling that I was about to be discussed, however briefly, by two people secure in the knowledge that I did not understand their language. I spoke up, also in French, and explained that it was fine with me if we switched to French, if Rene was not comfortable with English. Rene was, as I intended, insulted by that, and Stephanie stiffened with surprise. "You speak French? When did...how...You can't just suddenly take up a new language in three months, Doug!" I was doing a lot of shrugging, it seemed. "A few guys in my outfit this summer spoke French. Immersion-it's the way to go to learn fast." She managed to make the introduction, and her lovers, present and former, shook hands half-heartedly. Rene's eyes definitely scoped my basket. I was well aware that the tube-steak was dangling past the inseam of my shorts. But I was a model of decorum and poise, and his Gallic superiority melted under my smile. A few minutes later, as they departed, Stephanie paused momentarily at the doorway to look back at me. I could read her thoughts plainly. She was wondering if she had made the best bargain in this arrangement after all. I smiled shyly, knowing just how sexy that smile is, and gave her a small wave goodbye. She waved back, turned, and walked out of my life. I had gone easy on her, I thought. After all, I never even mentioned the new flat, new car, and film role. I smiled widely as I imagined her reaction on seeing my face and bare torso on a movie poster for a major Hollywood blockbuster. Rene's reaction might be even more amusing. Hollywood crap though the film might be, it was one piece of American cultural trash I thought the two of them might want to see-sadly, for very similar reasons. Poor Stephanie.