Date: Sat, 22 Sep 2001 07:30:00 -0700 (PDT)
From: KD
Subject: The Roomie

This story contains graphic depictions of sexual acts between men.  If that
offends you, if you are not of age, or if it is illegal in your area, do
not read any further.  This is a work of fantasy.  If you do what is
described here, you are a suicidal fool.  Practice safe sex!

THE ROOMIE

	The day I arrived at the big, red-brick dorm to begin my university
career was a pretty dismal one.  The day itself was a bright, beautiful
late summer day.  Even the dorm was O. K.  I was the dismal one, confused
and uncertain about who I was and how I would make my way transitioning to
adulthood in this strange and forbidding place.  It is odd to remember that
time now.  I had no model of gay life.  To be found to be "homosexual" was
to be expelled from the university and hounded from all human society.  No
one was out in those days; at seventeen I did not know one single other gay
male besides myself. Even the guys I had experimented with sexually didn't
count, because they all claimed to be "really" straight.
	Now I lay across my new bunk in my tiny new room waiting for God
knew what new roommate to show up, at the brink of despair.  So I did what
anyone would do in that circumstance.  I took out my greatest consolation
in life then and now, my hot stiff eight inch cock, and stroked it
strenuously into a lather of milky white cum which I mopped up with my
white briefs (after all, I would be laundering them myself now.)  Who knew,
with no privacy whatsoever and no telling how straight-laced a roommate, I
might not get to do this again for a semester or more!  My dick deflated in
a puddle of semen and I in a lake of self pity.
	In early afternoon, the new roommate arrived.  It was worse than I
could have ever imagined, and better.  Not only was he very masculine (I
myself am also straight acting), but he was even a jock, an eighteen year
old named Jeff.  Not, like me, just an active, well-built young guy simply
from being a full-grown teenage male who was naturally slim and well
proportioned and muscular from the normal activity of young maleness -- he
was an outright jock.  A walk-on (or is it swim-on) member of the
university swim team.  He was stuck with me rather than in the A-dorm
because of his walk-on status. He had yet to prove himself worthy of the
full athletic department treatment.  I was stuck with him, it seemed to me,
by plain bad luck.  I was doomed to double-barreled hetero-macho disdain,
or worse.  We got acquainted with banal, pretend- cheerful conversation as
he unpacked. But I had to admit, I liked him from the first.
	He was out with high school friends that evening (I didn't have any
of those in town), so I had plenty of time to think things through.
Unquestionably, this guy would not put up with me if I were anything like
myself.  My choice therefore, was to be either a fake hetero-macho cool
falsehood of myself and have a wretched time of it, or be some semblance of
my real exhibitionist nudist cock-worshiping self and run the guy off
sooner rather than later.  I decided to go for it.  I would try not to get
expelled from the university or lynched, but other than that I would be
tactfully real.
	When Jeff returned that night, I was reclining on my bed reading a
paperback and listening to my newly set up stereo, wearing nothing but
briefs. O.K., I admit, I had on fresh ones because I had already filled the
others with another load of jizz.  At seventeen, I had plenty of that to
spare.  We chatted a bit in our getting acquainted sort of way, him fully
dressed and me nearly naked, about school and music and swimming and such.
I had just finished a summer working as a lifeguard, so I was a strong
swimmer also, though not competitively, and with my deep copper tan I was
aware how handsome my lithe young body was.  After a while, he began to
take his clothes off, too.  I tried to be nonchalant and kept babbling
about high school stuff as I stealthily looked on with eagerness and
appreciation.
	Jeff was a gorgeous guy, no doubt about it.  I had already been
aware that he was a little taller than I, around six feet.  Also that he
had a masculinely beautiful face, with clear, smooth, clean-shaven skin; a
small nose; even, pearly teeth; a wide mouth and ready smile; sincere, gray
eyes; and thick, healthy dark brown hair, cut short for a swimming cap.
Now I began to get an eyeful of some real danger areas for me: the shirt
came off, revealing exceedingly broad, well-muscled and tanned shoulders,
with muscular brown back tapering away sharply to a very small waist.  He
tossed the shirt toward his laundry bag at the foot of his bed and turned,
presenting me with a marvelously defined, lightly brown-haired chest
featuring small, delectable nipples and outstandingly chiseled pecs.  His
abdomen actually rippled washboard style under a center-trail of hair which
descended provocatively into his jeans tops.  He kicked off his shoes,
pushed them under the bed, and unfastened the jeans, chatting all the time
about his high school swimming career and his hopes of making the team
before competition began.  The jeans fell to the floor, and he casually
stepped out.  I struggled to maintain a composedly nonchalant expression as
if I were actually listening.  Inwardly, I gasped with joy and awe.  Jeff's
crotch in jeans was quite enticing and respectable looking, but then so is
most everybody's: that's why we all wore jeans -- they do wonders for both
crotch and butt profiles.  Now I saw that Jeff's jeans were filled with the
real thing, not just folds of denim.  His white briefs (we all wore those
in those days) bulged roundly with big portions of meat.  As he turned to
cast aside the jeans to join the shirt, I ogled the firm, slim, rounded
buttocks beneath their thin, white cotton covering.  He slipped off his
socks and walked over to the lav to brush his teeth, both of us still
chatting lamely.  The butt curved, the back muscles rolled, and the biceps
bulged as he brushed vigorously away, and I stared, admired, and drooled.
	We were both ready for bed.  It was an awkward moment, but we
agreed we were bushed.  I put aside my book, killed the stereo and reading
lamp, and turned back the covers.  Jeff hit the lights and slipped into his
bed.
 Now was my first big venture.  The room was darkened, but still twilight
from street lights.  Standing beside my bed, I slipped off my underwear,
tossed it toward my laundry pile, standing just for an instant completely
naked between our beds.  Then I slipped into my covers as well.
	For a moment, I wondered if Jeff had even noticed.  But after a
pause, he quietly spoke.  "Do you always sleep in the raw?"  I had a little
speech prepared, which I launched into. I hoped it didn't bother him -- if
it did I could find something to wear in the future -- but the fact is I'm a
lot more comfortable in the nude -- I sleep better -- and besides it is the
natural way to be -- people are much too hung up on modesty -- and
furthermore if we are going to live in the same tiny room we might as well
get used to seeing each other's bodies and not make a big deal of it.  I
heard a little rustling around in his bed.  Suddenly, a small, flimsy
object flew through the airspace over his bed toward his own laundry pile.
"You're right," He said. "I'll try it."
	That was it.  I smiled in the darkness, and rolled over to go to
sleep.  Within a couple of minutes I heard Jeff snoozing away nearby.  But
then I had the agonizing thought: what a fool I am!  Now the two of us are
going to be casually naked together six or eight hours a night, and I am
going to be tormented by the knowledge that his bare ass and cock are lying
three feet from me and I can't touch them.  Smart move!  I dozed off
feeling confused and sad.
	Next morning was the first day of class, and I had a fucking eight
o'clock.  My alarm went off dutifully at seven, and I awoke with a start
and a raging hard-on. Jeff awoke too, but was not due in class 'til nine.
I decided to try my second experiment; I threw back the covers and
stretched my body head to toe, face up on the bed, arms high above my head,
hard-on waving in full glory.  Then I swung my feet over the side and sat
up.  My dick bobbed as I turned, and settled in at a 45 degree angle from
my curly black pubes, pointing straight in Jeff's direction.  I did not
look toward him to see if he was watching; I merely yawned, stretched
again, then stood and strolled nonchalantly, cock waving proudly, toward
the lavatory.  Everything depended upon the naturalness and innocence of
the act.  I stood naked at the lavatory mirror, my backside facing Jeff's
bed, and began to shave.  I looked into the mirror.  Oh shit! I thought.
Last night he would have been able to see every detail of my expression as
I watched him brush his teeth, or rather as I admired his ass while he
brushed his teeth.  Unless he was dumb as dirt (as lots of hetero types
are), he would have to know I was lusting for him.
	I glanced via the mirror toward Jeff now.  He was awake.  Boy, was
he ever awake.  It looked as if Ringling Brothers were getting ready to put
on all three rings under his sheets, which now formed a Big Top suspended
by a Big Pole right in the center of Jeff's body.  He was caressing the
tent pole drowsily and thoughtfully as he looked at my butt. I shaved and
watched discreetly.  My own royal guardsman remained at stiff attention
over the sink, which was set right at testicle level.  The tent in Jeff's
bed collapsed; he had ceased his manual support, and it had fallen back
against his belly.  He said nothing, and I concentrated on getting
presentable for the dorm shower.  I did manage to drop my razor to the
floor so that I could bend at the waist to pick it up, presenting Jeff with
a nice scenic view of my asshole, decorated by a swath of black crack hair,
and a rear exposure of my hanging balls.  Then I wrapped my towel around my
middle, grabbed my shampoo, and went out into the hallway toward the shower
room.
	This was just prior to the days of universal coed dorms.  At that
time, the floor was men only, and casual nudity on the hall was very
common.  I passed other guys wrapped in towels, one just holding his towel
over his groin, and one just plain naked.  The shower itself was one of
those large square tile rooms with about a dozen shower heads around the
walls.  Every one of the showers was in use, and I had to stand naked at
the entrance with two other naked guys watching a dozen other naked guys
soap and rinse their bodies in front of us.  As it happened, I was not the
only one on the floor with a tendency toward exhibitionism.  There were two
or three who were fairly modest, keeping themselves mostly toward the wall.
The rest, however, flaunted their full frontal nudity whether it deserved
to be flaunted or not.  I saw some flabby guts, shrivelly pricks (even one
micro-mini), and a couple of very simian chests and backs.  But among them
there were also several very admirable young bodies, either attractively
smooth chested or sexily and moderately furred.  One or two cocks were real
beauties, all cut as was typical in those days.  I was fascinated by the
show some of them put on for us, preening and caressing and soaping
suggestively.  When one of the ape-men left and I took his place, I began
to preen and soap as well.
	Some of the guys made little pretense of casualness as they
lathered their pubes and stroked their cocks with soapy hands.  Several of
the cocks extended themselves quite noticeably under the caresses,
revealing much of their potential length and girth.  My little trick of
dropping something and then bending at the waist to retrieve it was a dorm
favorite; we were all treated to crack shots from nearly everybody. I was
not the only one looking, either; several sets of eyes were cast on me and
others as we washed.  I was fairly brazen in washing myself sensuously in
full view of the shower room.  The guy opposite me did a good deal of
rubbing on his ass turned toward my side of the room, and he even ran his
middle finger into his soapy hole and washed out the entryway.  Obviously,
the shower room was where all the guys, no matter how straight, could
exhibit themselves and compare themselves with others without fear of
judgment.  One of those bizarre rituals of male bonding.
	As I left the shower after dallying as long as I dared, I met Jeff
in his towel on his way in.  Shit.  Missed the chance to get a good furtive
look at that equipment, which I had as yet seen only in tantalizing
outline, including the outline of a very discernable cock head hanging
impressively low under that towel.  But I had to get to class, so I dressed
and hurried off.
	The next few days were distressingly similar.  Jeff was often seen
in his underwear or towel, and slept nude as I did, but I managed to catch
only the briefest and most unsatisfactory glimpses of his delectable white
butt or admirable cock.  I jerked off at every private moment always
dreaming of him.  He went away for the weekend, leaving me to spend almost
the entire two days sprawling naked on my bed choking my poor exhausted
chicken and despairing of ever having any real sex.  It was a shame,
really, because I later found that there would have been plenty of guys in
the dorm who would have been delighted to take on my tight virgin ass and
hefty piece of meat, but that is another story.
	The next advancement with Jeff came unexpectedly on Monday morning
as I went through my daily routine of shaving naked in the room before
going off by myself to the shower to lust anonymously after other guys I
did not yet know well enough to approach.  Suddenly I heard Jeff's voice
cry out, "Shit! Shit! Shit!" and he flung aside the sheet and leaped naked
out of the bed.  I was too surprised even to ogle at first.  "What?"  I
asked, thinking some bedbug must have gotten a bite of him before I could.
"I totally forgot about laundry," he moaned.  "I came in late last night
and I have nothing clean to wear!  I have to go to class!"
	I, of course, had spent some of my few flaccid moments during the
weekend doing my wash, so everything I owned was clean.  "Maybe you can
wear something of mine," I said.  "I have plenty of stuff."
	Then Jeff did something remarkable.  He could have just tried on
some of my pants to see if they fit.  But he didn't.  He came toward me and
stood beside me, both of us naked as jaybirds, in front of the lavatory,
but also in front of the full length mirror on the door of the closet on
the side wall.  "Turn toward the sink," he ordered.  I obeyed, still off
balance and holding a foamy razor in my hand.  He put his naked ass right
up against mine, and we both looked at ourselves in the mirror to the side.
His heels, shoulder blades, and the back of his head were against mine.  We
began to compare naked bodies as if it were the most natural thing in the
world for two hot-looking young men to do.
	Jeff was an inch taller than I, but it was mostly from the waist
up.  His hip bone was practically level with mine.  His waist was very
slender, but not more than mine.  His hips swelled provocatively into a
shapely and muscular bubble butt. But so did mine.  His legs were slim and
long-muscled; my thighs were more defined and my calves more like those of
a runner or cyclist as opposed to his swimmer build.  We would not be able
to wear the same shoes; his feet were a little longer and slimmer than
mine.  For pants, though, the prospects looked good.  "Now turn
frontwards," he commanded.  I turned, and so did he.  There we stood, at
last looking each other over openly and thoroughly, but in the mirror
rather than straight on.  Nevertheless, I took full advantage.  I had
already studied and have described all but the private section.  Now I
focused my eyes upon that.
	My cock, a cut and pretty piece of meat, is not terribly impressive
when relaxed, only about half its maximum length and fairly slender.
 But my cods are well formed and handsomely hung in their scrotal sack.
They force the limp dick outward, and it hangs around them in a curve, the
whole surrounded by a bushy growth of black pubes.  I had a great tan from
my summer on the lifeguard stand.  People have always remarked upon the
handsomeness of my face and the beauty of my large brown eyes and
over-the-collar very black hair.  My chest and stomach are moderately hairy
and very fit and muscular.  Where Jeff had me beaten was in the
sculptedness of his pecs and the breadth and musculature of his shoulders.
He could wear one of my looser tee shirts, but he would stretch it to an
exciting tautness.  He also had me beaten in the flaccid penis department,
I had to admit a little begrudgingly.  His dick was as lovely and sexy as I
had expected, cut, thick, and heavy.  I would later discover that at over
six inches it retained almost two thirds of its full size even in
limpness. The big tantalizing head hung 'way down past his balls, which
were held fairly tightly suspended in their brown-furred rounded sack.  He
had a neat, symmetrical patch of brown pubes.  I was enamoured, and would
have studied his image for hours.  But he broke the spell.  "I think your
pants will do fine," he said casually.  "The shirt may be a little tight."
"We'll try a stretchy one," I answered, "and I have socks and underwear,
too."
	"That's O. K. Just what shows.  I'll bare-butt it today."  Oh,
great.  Now I have the parting image of him leaving in my khakis with that
mesmerizing cock head plainly outlined below the stride of the pants, and
every time I wear them from now on I will remember longingly that his bare
dick has been there, his naked ass has rubbed inside them.  I hoped he
would give them back dirty so that I could clandestinely wear them myself
with his smell still in them.  Later that afternoon, while Jeff was safely
away in class, I tried out that experience by getting into his bed for my
afternoon jerk off, reveling in his scent on the as-yet-unwashed sheets,
locating stray brown pubes, and even discovering to my satisfaction that
his top sheet had a couple of large, crusty semen stains on it.  So, he is
not a monk, I thought smugly.  If only I could grow a temporary pussy (I
love my cock too much to contemplate any permanent exchange even for Jeff)
so that I could show him a good time and enjoy the feel of that long, hard
body on mine.
	In the absence of such an experience, I resolved to be thankful
that we were becoming such good friends, that he was not grossed out by me,
that he was comfortable with me even in the nude, and that I had the
opportunity to enjoy at least a very pleasurable visual experience even if
nothing else ever happened.  A few days went by as before, except that I
did have one memorable episode in the shower. I was there later in the day
than usual, and this time only one guy was present besides me, soaping away
with the usual exhibitionistic abandon of the place.  He was one of the
guys I had admired before, the one who had fingered his asshole on my first
day, not very tall, but slim and athletic and both well built and nicely
hung.  I was a little intimidated by him because he was clearly a few years
older than I, and he looked at me, and I mean all of me, very knowingly
whenever we were in the shower together.  I tried to be casual and
confident.  He studied me out of the corners of his eyes as usual, washed
his admirable cock and balls blatantly before me, then turned and worked on
his upper shoulders.  "I can't reach my back," he said suddenly.  "Would
you get it for me?"  He had never spoken before.  His voice was higher and
less confident than I had expected.  I ceased to feel intimidated.  "Sure,"
I said simply, and walked across the tiles toward him.  He handed me the
soap.  I lathered up my hands and began to stroke smoothly on his shoulders
and down his back.  I went beyond washing and into rub-down, just to be
friendly, but I stayed within swim- suit bounds.  He, however, seemed to
get some message from my touch, as I later grew to understand myself by
greater experience.  He took back the soap, and said, "Now your turn."  I
rotated obligingly, expecting a quick soapy rub on the back, but hey,
better than no touch at all, which was what I had had so far in that
school.  He began to rub, then massage, then caress.  His touch was
amazingly firm but gentle, and tantalizingly sensual.  I sighed.  He moved
down onto the cheeks of my butt, where his fingers teased pleasingly.  Then
they went into my crack, and circled my asshole gently.  From there, he
ventured between my legs and began to fondle my balls and then my amazed
and responsive dick.  I slid my feet cooperatively a little further apart.
The sensation was extraordinary.  Every touch I had ever had from another
guy up to that point had been rough and perfunctory, nothing like this
pleasant dalliance.  But suddenly, we heard the outer door from hallway to
shower dressing area push open as someone else entered.  Instantly, my new
shower attendant turned to face his own shower head, and I, without knowing
quite how I got there, was back under mine, which I had left running,
hovering close to the wall to conceal my soapy, swollen organ.  One of the
dorm flabs moved into the shower and went to work on himself.  My friend
turned off his shower and moved toward the door.  But as he passed he said
quietly.  "I'm Dave, 615.  Come and see me sometime."  I just nodded, my
mind and heart racing.  It would be a while before I would get up the
courage to go and visit Dave, but when I finally did, we spent some very
enjoyable time together, and he taught me quite a few tricks which I would
put to good use on other guys, including Jeff.
	Yes, I was eventually to get my hands, as well as other parts, onto
Jeff's lovely body.  But it took some patience. The next step along the way
was when Jeff showed up one late afternoon after swimming practice,
announcing breathlessly, "I have to shave my body."  It was time for speed
trials, it seemed, and he had to take every fraction possible off of his
sprint time.  "How do you do it?"  I asked, as innocently as
possible. "Just lather up and go for it," Jeff answered.  "I used to do it
before in high school once I began to get body hair."  "But you can't even
reach all around," I protested, "You're liable to slice something off."
 "I'll just have to do the best I can," was his response.  "Of course," a
little plaintive now, "it is better to have some help."
 "Fine," I grinned, "I'll help."  We agreed to start our project after
dinner.  I hardly touched a bite.
	The ideal place to do our work would have been naked together in
the hot, steamy shower.  But that was too public for either of us.  Even
for a lofty, athletic purpose, it might create talk.  So off Jeff went to
the shower alone while I covered his bed with two beach towels and got
together a fresh razor blade and canister of cream.  I stripped to my
underwear, but dared go no further.
	Jeff returned, wet, warm, and naked.  I instructed him to lie face
up on the towels, and asked a few boundary questions: where exactly did his
Speedos cover?  Did he need to sacrifice his pubes?  The answers were more
exciting than I expected: his pubes were covered by the racing suit, but he
wanted to part with the top half of them anyway, because the team was
presently working out nude in closed practices to get minimum resistance
and pull up their times.  My imagination ran a quick and stimulating image
of what that must be like with all of those long, lean, young male bodies
lined up on the starting blocks, dicks dangling.  I couldn't resist a
comment, though, saying, "I would expect you to be considerably slower in
the water naked than in trunks."  "How come?" asked Jeff, puzzled.  "Well,
naked you have this sea anchor dragging you down," I answered, pointing at
his heavy third leg.  "Unless you've learned to kick with that thing."  He
laughed; he was flattered, I could tell.
 "You're a lifeguard," he responded, "You know what happens to a dick in
water.  Even a horse-size schlong shrinks into a pruny little prick-ette in
minutes.  Besides, the exertion alone makes a dick practically disappear.
Believe me, that is not a problem.  Hair is where the drag is."  My
illusory visions of dozens of heavy-hung men thrashing about in the foaming
water burst into bubbles.  I lifted his left foot and began to spread
shaving cream up the leg from ankle to knee.  But Jeff was still smiling as
I prepared to shave him.  Damn, he had a great smile.
	I rested Jeff's ankle on my bare shoulder, his foot beside my ear,
as I worked my way smoothly up the leg, cutting swath after swath of soft,
slick, hairless skin.  I had never seen a man's leg smooth-shaven.  It was
strangely exciting, especially being so well muscled.  The view from this
position up the leg to the crotch was also breathtaking, and I took furtive
advantage.  Next I began to work on the strong, lean thigh.  "I hope nobody
comes in," Jeff chuckled nervously.  "This must look strange."  I glanced
toward his cock.  It was beginning to thicken.  No wonder he was getting
nervous.  "Don't worry about it."  I said, a little huskily.  I shaved away
ever further up the thigh toward his enticing groin.  The cock began to
move, rotating around toward Jeff's navel and even past it.  It became a
major boner, swollen to full, purple-mountain-majesty, and even from the
underside, it was a remarkable organ.  Jeff was mortified.  "I'm really
sorry," he said softly, shaking his head in chagrin, "I'm not used to this
kind of touch."  "So you're a normal guy," I comforted, "Nothing could be
more natural, so just let it ride."  Pause.  "Well, you're not all that
normal; does anyone else on the swim team have a dong in that size range?"
He grinned.  "Nope."  Now his pride overcame his embarrassment.  I think he
began to enjoy flaunting his equipment, knowing it was safe.  I shaved the
underside of the thigh up to the round of his buttock, then switched to his
right leg and worked on it similarly.
	All of this time, I continued taking in surreptitious images of
Jeff's huge and incredible cock.  It was one thick slab of man-meat.  I
longed to see the head from the other side and from close up.  My own cock
had long ago turned traitor on me and begun to creep sideways along my
thigh within my briefs.  The outline of it, all the way to my hip, was
plainly visible under the white cotton.  At least, I thought, it didn't
head due north and pop out of my fly right in Jeff's view.  But I also had
a big lump in my throat about the size of my dick.  Conversation failed me.
	Finishing with the leg, I now took a towel and wiped both legs and
feet clean of soap and water.  Even that was stimulating to me.  Jeff was
strangely silent at this point, just looking on with a slight, tense
smile. I began to spread lather on his chest.
	Shaving the chest was fun and more businesslike.  I sat down on the
bed beside Jeff's hips, so I no longer had his magnificent cock before my
eyes, though I was still highly conscious of its presence.  I lathered and
carefully shaved his armpits, a weird experience. I enjoyed tracing his
chest musculature with the wet razor, following the contours of the land
like a farmer plowing a hilly field.  Then I spread the cream on his
strong, fat-free abs.  He was ticklish! He laughed and flinched as I headed
down toward and below the belt-line.  I chuckled along with him.
	This would be delicate, I thought.  I picked up Jeff's own comb
from the dresser and turned back to his midsection, intent upon parting his
pubic hair horizontally down the middle for a boundary.  His still-swollen
cock was in my way, though, soaring up past his navel across his gut.
There was nothing for it but to take the bull by the horns, so to speak.  I
pushed it back with the side of my left hand while I made my straight, neat
part; then I gently held the cock upright with my fingers by its shapely
head while I shaved away the upper pubes with my right hand.  Jeff held his
breath but did not close his eyes.  He seemed hypnotized by the sight of my
hand holding onto his own massive organ while I removed the hair from his
stomach.  I can only imagine the sensation he, never having been touched by
a man, must be feeling.  Was he struggling to hold the jizz in, as I would
be? Yes, of course I was a fool.  I should have attacked and sucked the guy
off on the spot, who wouldn't?  Today any moron would know that his sexual
attentions were being accepted.  But this was a very sexually repressive
place and time, and we were both young and inexperienced.  I pretended the
whole scene was totally non-sexual, just us guys.  What nonsense!
	Now finished, I took the towel again and mopped up the entire area,
including the now soapy cock.  I stepped back to look at my handiwork.
Jeff's long, heavenly body was now almost completely devoid of hair.  The
change was remarkable. He looked like a stripper.  "How about the
backside?" I asked.  Jeff answered, "Just what shows on my butt outside the
trunks."  So he rolled over, but there wasn't really anything for me to
trim there on his lower ass, just the thin, light streak from balls to
asshole, which I left alone.  I got a quick glimpse of his puckering hole,
though, and the rod within my briefs trembled excitedly.  Then I was
finished with my task, and the excuse to handle his body was gone.
	Now Jeff was off to the shower again, and I was alone.  What is
better, I wondered despondently, to see it and touch it but not to be able
to enjoy it, or never to see it at all?  It was a tough question to answer.
	Our lives went on much as before now for a few more days.
Meanwhile, I encountered Dave in the shower again, with one other guy
present.  He left before I did, but as he left he gestured at me with his
head and mouthed silently "615."  The other guy had his head in the water.
I nodded.  I took my time finishing my shower; then as I exited, I looked
furtively up and down the hall.  All clear.  Room 615 was in the opposite
direction from mine, but not far.  I came to the door and found it closed
but not latched.  I pushed it open, closed it securely behind me.  There
lay Dave atop his bed, naked as the day he was born but a lot more sexually
stimulated.  He fondled a very interesting looking 7 and a half inches of
excited, cut cock, with a slight bend to starboard.  His balls hung
pleasingly beneath.
	It must have been my sexual frustration over Jeff--I stepped
quickly toward the bed, dropping my own towel.  For a second it hung on my
rising erection, then it fell as I pretty much pounced on Dave's bones and
buried my face in his crotch without a word.  I chowed down on his big
wiener like a Boy Scout at a cook-out.  I craved it as if cock and only
cock could clear that lump out of my throat.  I licked and slobbered all
over Dave's stiff rod and his balls.  I rammed him as deep into my throat
as I could manage.  He began to gasp like an asthmatic.  Then after a few
minutes I settled down to rhythmic plunging action on his wet meat.  It had
become the hardest male organ I had ever encountered.  Momentarily, he
began to shoot warm love cream down my throat in great, salty spurts, and
at the same time I heard a muffled moaning as if someone were being
strangled to death but somehow enjoying it.  Then I realized it was me.
	After I had licked Dave's erection clean of cum, he sat up and made
room for me on the bed.  Then he began to work on me.  He didn't go right
to my groin; he started with tits and underarms and navel, something I had
never experienced.  It was sensational.  Then, when he got to my nether
regions, he concentrated first on my perianal area and then my balls. At my
horny age, it was a wonder I didn't spew all over him before he even
touched my dick.  I held out, though, in almost an agony of ecstasy, until
he had gone down my shaft as deep into his throat as he could manage for a
respectable number of stokes.  Then I practically blew the back of his head
off with an explosion of pent-up ejaculate firing forth like bullets.  He
took all he could, but still a puddle grew at the base of my cock, sticking
up the pubes.  I was still a little squeamish about hairs in my mouth at
that time, but not Dave.  He commenced to licking my entire pubic area and
balls like a cat until they were cleaned and well massaged.
	By this time I had to ask where his roommate was and when he might
be back.  Dave was not worried.  Even if Stan came in on us, he said, the
most that would happen was that he would want to join us.  So -- while I
had been lying celibate and frustrated in my bed next to the biggest hunk
in the building, Dave and Stan were right down the hall fucking each
other's eyes out.  Life seemed awfully unfair.  But I was too busy to dwell
on it.  Dave was rolling me over onto my stomach.  He began to smooch on my
ass, crack, and then, incredibly, my asshole.  This was a totally new
concept for me; I had done a little cock sucking before, and had even had
my own cock perfunctorily blown on occasion, but I had never even imagined
such bliss as this.  I just lay like a side of beef face down on Dave's
bed, my legs spread wide, and let him have his way with me, which he did.
He got up and found some K-Y and began to lubricate and massage my asshole
with his fingers.  Then he slicked up his tool, and went to work inserting
it.
	My deflowering was not as gentle as it might have been. Dave was
young and eager, and he rammed his cock up my ass pretty quickly.  I felt a
searing pain so that for a moment I wondered how I was going to explain
this injury at the university infirmary.  He lay down atop me and began
pelvic thrusts, driving his hard dick far up my ass and then drawing it
tantalizingly outward so that only the head remained at the porch of my
asshole.  Always, the sphincter was stretched, so the pain never really
went away.  What changed though, was the addition of a pleasure sensation
as he pounded away.  I found that, even if it killed me, I wanted him to
finish, and I wanted it to be hard and rough.  I begged him to go deeper,
faster, harder.  The weight of him lying on me was strangely satisfying, as
was the slightly prickly sweating of his hairy chest on my back.
	When Dave shot his load deep in my gut, I felt the sensation of
warm liquidity deep inside.  He was panting in my ear from behind.  I now
realized that he had been licking that ear and adjacent neck for awhile
without my notice. My back was slick with sweat, his and mine.  Now he
relaxed, and just lay atop me quietly for several minutes, until his dick
finally shrank up enough so that it was naturally expelled by my rebellious
sphincter muscles.  Now it lay between my legs, its slimy head on my balls.
We rested.
	After awhile, the spell was broken.  It seemed mundane, but we
actually needed to go downstairs and have lunch.  I retrieved my towel, and
peeked outside.  No one on the hall just then.  I slipped back down to the
shower, and washed myself tenderly and thoroughly.  No sign of blood, I was
pleased and surprised to find.  I went on my way, maybe walking a little
funny the rest of the day and dripping globs of Dave-cum into my underpants
occasionally.  But it felt good to be no longer a virgin.  The only problem
was, my partner had not been Jeff.  As my college career proceeded, even
after Jeff and I had commenced a sexual relationship, I screwed around with
a number of other guys, and later, so did Jeff; sometimes we did it
together in a threesome or group.  But always, it was just sex.  Maybe
really fun sex, but still just sex.  Only with Jeff was the sex something
more than that.
	At that point, though, I began a series of afternoon suck and fuck
sessions with both Dave and Stan while Jeff was busy with long swimming
practices.  Dave was the instigator.  The next time we were together in his
room, way beyond caught with our pants down, Stan did walk in on us, as I
had feared.  Dave was on hands and knees on his bed with his ass sticking
out to the center of the room, balls dangling, where I was standing, naked,
with my hard stick rammed in him, checking his oil.  He was a quart low,
and I was about to rectify that situation by injection.  As a matter of
fact, Dave was pleading pitifully for me to do just that when the door
opened and in walked Stan.  I stopped pumping and turned toward the door,
which Stan was closing behind him, a lewd smile on his face.  Dave begged
me not to stop, but to keep porking him harder, and taking note of Stan's
leer, I did.  Stan said nothing as far as I remember but proceeded to
strip, tossing his clothing across his bed, with eyes glued to my clenching
ass muscles.  Then, naked and stroking his own majestic member, he walked
around to watch my hard- working ram-rod plowing into Dave's rear gate. His
presence turned me on even more; being watched was another new twist for
me.  I worked hard to give him a good show, tensing my abs, flexing my
pecs, and pulling my dick out on every upstroke far enough for him to see
its full length and even glimpse the rim of its head before I drove it back
inside of Dave.  I could tell Stan liked what he saw.
	I had met and talked with Stan before, and knew he was the one who
roomed with Dave.  He was medium height, about like Dave, but more solidly
built.  Not at all fat, but very muscular, and covered on the front with
dark brown hair.  His chest was deep, truly impressively muscled -- high
school football jock.  His dick was in Dave's range, only thicker. He was
not my preferred body type, but what the hell.  He soon moved around to the
head of the bed and crawled on. Dave swung around toward him and commenced
to suck on his dick while I continued to slip him the sausage from behind.
	Dave was in ecstasy, orfices filled with big dick at both ends.  I
settled into a rhythm of ass fucking to go the distance, my dangling balls
slapping merrily against Dave's, in order to time my coming with Stan's.
He caught up with me pretty quickly, though, and I did not have to hold out
for long.  After awhile we gave old Dave a good heavy creaming from both
directions at the same time.  He was most appreciative, as I recall.
	Later in the afternoon, the three of us made various kinds of meat
sandwiches with our bodies, trying out just about every combination of
coitus we could imagine for our mutual pleasure.  That was just the first
of many sessions we had, working our fit young bodies and spilling our
plentiful young juices with zeal and enthusiasm.  For a while that autumn,
sex with the guys was just about the only exercise we had other than
walking, yet we had it so regularly and so vigorously that we all stayed
trim and well toned.
	The way it finally happened with Jeff was anticlimactic, as I
suppose it had to be.  It turned out, of course, I could have had him much
earlier with just a little more boldness on my part or his; but I had
become so in love with him that I could not bear the possibility now of
driving him away from me.  I was willing to be near him on whatever terms
he required.  The crisis came the night Jeff had a date, a double arranged
by one of his teammates.  I tried to pretend it didn't matter, but I was
despondent.  By now I had had a couple of threesomes with Dave and Stan,
and I did have some other friends as well, but they were out that evening,
too, so I settled in glumly to read and listen to music in my room alone.
The dorm floor was practically deserted.  There I reclined, in the nude
this time as if ready for bed, when Jeff showed up about midnight.  He had
been drinking, and he was not in a happy mood.  His exact words upon
entering the room were, "That bitch!  She blue-balled me!"  They had been
necking and petting in the back seat of his friend's car, it seemed, and
Jeff was all prepared to give the girl the business, but he erred in taking
his cock out prematurely before she was fully prepared to receive it.  She
balked at the size of it and suddenly backed out of the whole business.  As
he told me all of this, he was stripping off clothing angrily.  I had never
seen cool, calm Jeffry so worked up.  Or so close to being drunk.  "So
wouldn't she even go down on it?"  I asked. "She could at least have given
you a hand job.  What could that hurt?"  "Hell, no," he responded with
disgust.  "The bitch turned into Prude-Hilda.  I had to take her straight
home."
 By this time, Jeff had stripped off every stitch, and he still had a
massive hard-on to verify his painful condition.  I had to admit it did
look a little blue-ish.  It also looked very mouth-watering.  Jeff waved
the off-color Washington Monument inches from my face and moaned, "Just
look at this!  Now what am I going to do?"  Well, as a matter of fact, I
could think of a few things.  Ever the helpful one, now mindful of Jeff's
drunken and desperate condition, and rendered desperate myself by his foray
that evening into the world of straight dating, I at last seized the day.
And that is not all I seized.  "Just sit down," I instructed Jeff, "I'll
take care of it."  Suddenly, he seemed to relax.  He sat down on his bed
and looked at me with relief.  His knees spread wide, and his ten-inch tool
soared upward invitingly.  I knelt, naked, between his feet and, placing my
hands on his, firm, smooth, upper thighs, I bent and took the head of his
cock gently into my mouth. By itself, it was a mouth-full, and the best
tasting morsel of beef tenderloin I have ever enjoyed.  There was already a
drool of pre-cum oozing forth, and it tasted better to me than Bearnaise
sauce.  I began to put my experience with Dave and Stan to good use playing
on Jeff's great organ.  I licked my way down the shaft to the neatly
trimmed brown pubes (Jeff had later cut what I had left to half-length),
then moved back up to the incredible, beautiful head.  I opened wide,
covered my teeth with lips and tongue, and began the journey downward,
sliding the huge kielvasa into my gullet.  I choked a little, but kept
trying, and after awhile I was able to get most of it in on each thrust.
Jeff leaned back on his elbows.  His eyes rolled back into his head, and
his mouth opened with enraptured groans. I continued to drive down on him
relentlessly, now also manually stimulating his balls, perianal area, and
anus with my fingers, drinking in every whiff, touch, and taste of his
luscious genitals.  His hands found their way down to my head, which he
caressed and petted appreciatively as it moved up and down on his stiff
rod. Then he came abundantly in great surging waves of the most delicious,
creamy cum I have ever encountered, quivering and jerking with ecstasy.
His head fell back onto the pillow, and he sighed, speechless.  I excused
myself for a moment to slip off to the john to douche, something I had just
gotten prepared to do for Dave and Stan.  Then I came back to the
room. Jeff still lay prone and bare on the bed, his cock at half mast and
flopped over onto his upper thigh, but his head was propped up on the
pillow now.  I took K-Y Jelly from my drawer (also a new purchase), and
anointed my ass with it.  Then I approached Jeff.  "I want you to fuck me,"
I said quietly. I eased into the bed beside him, and he scooted over to
make room.  He turned onto his side and began to run his hand up and down
my torso.  I realized with a shock that it was the first time he had ever
deliberately touched me.  The hand ran down to my pubes and tentatively
touched my cock, which had stretched to its full length.  Jeff grasped it
and pumped smoothly on it a few times.  Then he slid down half my body
length and straddled my thighs with his arms.  He was staring straight at
my groin now, his sexy nose just inches away. He took my cock in his hand
and held it upright, staring it right in the eye for a moment.  Then he
closed his eyes, took a breath as if diving into the pool, and took it into
his mouth and began to pump up and down on it.  It was obvious that this
was Jeff's first time.  He wasn't sure how to keep his perfect teeth out of
the way, and he had no idea how to relax his throat to go deep on me.  Even
so, I thought it was the best suck-off I had ever had.  I warned him when I
was about to come, no need to push him too far too fast, and he backed off.
I shot my load onto my belly as he watched interestedly -- he'd never
seen another guy shoot before -- and pumped my pistol with his fist,
milking the cum from it.  He licked some cum off my dick head though, to
try a taste.  "Not that bad," he said, as if that were a great compliment.
I smiled.  Then I began to pull my knees up to my shoulders, catching the
backs of my thighs with my forearms.  My slick asshole was bared and
puckering in his direction.  "Slick yourself up and go for it," I invited
him.  Jeff lubed his big instrument, which sprang to life again eagerly in
his practiced hand.  Then he directed it toward my waiting anus, which I
bore down on to relax for his entry.  I was totally unprepared for the
enormity of him.  He thrust into me like a torpedo.  I called upon the name
of every divinity and holy person I could think of.  What came to mind,
unbidden, was a story I had read of a Comanche woman who was impaled on a
pointed pole as punishment for adultery.  I doubt if she liked the
sensation as much as I did.  As he pushed his full length into me, I was
amazed that I could take it all.  When his pubes reached my butt, he paused
to ask, "Are you sure this is O. K?"  I was sure.  "I really want to pump
you," he said softly.  "Can you take it?"  With gritted teeth, I assured
him that I was much in need of pumping, to have at it, and he did with
increasing confidence and gusto.  Maybe the fact that I quit my low-volume
screaming and began moaning with pleasure was helpful to him.  He gave me a
good solid, first- time fucking, quite respectable under the circumstances
really, and finally collapsed on top of me, sweating and breathing heavily.
I clasped him for a few moments in my arms and legs, really loving the
embrace of that long, strong, smooth body, but I didn't want to push it
with the lovey-dovey stuff too quickly.  I soon unwrapped myself, and he
slid off beside me and within two minutes fell fast asleep.  Those macho
guys!
	I eased over to my own bed after awhile and crashed as well.  Sleep
did not come easily; my mind raced and I was intensely aware of my anus.
Finally I dozed off into a restless slumber.
	I awoke in midmorning when I heard Jeff sit up and swing his legs
over the side of his bed and groan.  I glanced at him.  He sat there, naked
of course, elbows on thighs, head and genitals hanging, looking at the
floor.  I decided that I had to meet this thing head on; he hadn't been
drunk enough for loss of memory to be a possibility.  He had to be
remembering what we had done.
	"About last night," I began hoarsely.  I explained with great
humility that I had never meant to take advantage of him, but he could feel
free to take advantage of me.  He could expect absolute discretion from me.
I would never embarrass him, behave possessively, or ask anything that he
was not willing to give.  But on the other hand, my mouth and asshole were
available whenever he wanted them.  It would be my pleasure to serve him.
Or never bring it up again, as long as he would not leave me...I think I
began to cry.  "It's OK," he interrupted.  "I'm glad about what happened.
I wanted it to happen.  I just have a headache."  Then he looked up and
managed a weak but very affectionate smile.  I raced for the aspirin
bottle.
	Awhile later, Jeff came over and joined me in my bed, and we lay in
one another's arms and talked.  Then, with incredible tenderness, he kissed
me deeply full on the lips. It turned out, of course, that Jeff had been
lusting after me just as long as I had been after him.  He hadn't worked
through all the confusion and denial yet, though; the concept of himself as
gay was still a new one.  Like so many guys of our age and time, he was
aware that he was very interested in the bodies of the other guys in the
locker room, but he wasn't sure they felt any different.  He kept expecting
to fall in love with a pretty girl one day, and then be like other guys,
but instead he fell in love with me.  It took him awhile to accept the
reality of it.  Meanwhile, all of his halting overtures to me had been just
that, overtures, with him hoping I would make a move and deliver him from
his confusion and doubt.  I had done my nature-boy routine a little too
convincingly, and for all he knew I might be just incredibly nonchalant
about nudity and sex, not really interested in him as a partner at all.  He
had been just as scared to be open with me as I had been with him!  His new
vulnerability was touching, and I loved him all the more.
	We couldn't spend all Sunday afternoon fucking in the dorm, but had
to put in an appearance outside sometime, so we went out to play some touch
football with the guys from the floor.  We tried to be as natural as
possible, but it didn't work with Dave.  He found the opportunity to pat my
ass firmly, and smiled knowingly when I flinched. "Aha, I thought so," he
whispered conspiratorially.  "When are you going to bring him over to our
place?"  "You'll have to wait," I answered, smiling back.  "Honeymoon, you
know."
	I have to hand it to Jeff.  Once he made up his mind, there was no
further hesitancy, and no going back.  We hardly slept a wink for the next
week, grinding away at one another until neither of us could have gotten a
hard on or forced out a drop of semen if our lives depended on it.  Jeff
became quite the cock worshipper, rivaling me in his appreciation of a
well-formed specimen.  Luckily for me, I had (have) his favorite.  He
quickly learned to be a gentle, attentive, and passionate lover, and the
best cock- sucker I ever met.  He loved to be fucked as well as to fuck,
and we both took great joy in servicing one another to mutual and exhausted
satisfaction.
	Jeff never made the swim team.  Actually, I think he threw the time
trials in order to be able to continue to live with me.  Either that or his
sea anchor really did drag him down.  Anyway, he had other physical
activities he had come to prefer.  At the end of the term, we moved into an
apartment with Dave and Stan so that all of us would be able to be our
complete randy selves without fear of persecution.  We made a pact from the
beginning that anyone who was naked was inviting sexual advances.  All four
of us just took off our clothes whenever we entered the apartment, and went
naked together virtually all the time, fucking and sucking in random
combination to our hearts' content.  But all knew that, in the end, Jeff's
heart and body belonged to me, and mine to him.  And that is the way it has
been ever since.