Date: Wed, 29 May 2002 17:54:39 EDT
From: NJRimzu@aol.com
Subject: The Wall, Chapter 1

The Wall

If you are under age, or live in an area where reading tales of male sex is
illegal, or if you're not into this, please leave. These are stories of a
few of trysts that began at a cruising area on my college campus known as
The Wall. While the stories are basically true, I wasn't taking notes at
the time, so some of the details are the product of artistic license, But
that does not change the basic nature of the actual events. This all took
place in a time when all sex was safe. It isn't now, so please respect
yourself and others enough to always play safe. Comments are appreciated.

Alfie

I was just short of my 18th birthday when I went off to my freshman year at
the State University. Being a shy, self-conscious kid, I was more than a
little apprehensive about dorm life, living with a bunch of strangers,
sharing a room with a stranger. Because I wasn't outgoing, I didn't make
friends easily and usually kept to myself. I'd lived my whole life in the
same house in a quiet suburban town, so change wasn't something I did
well. I'd always had my own room and worried about getting along with an
unknown roommate.

When I arrived on campus, it was worse than I expected. I'd been assigned
to one of the larger rooms, and since there was a housing shortage, I had
two roommates. One was a likeable freshman, kind of nerdy like me, but he
seemed okay. The other was a senior who had lived in that room all through
college and considered it his personal space. He was in ROTC, on the crew
team, and had a weight bench in the room for working out. He made the rules
clear right away. There was to be no noise in the room when he was there,
no music, no socializing. And he was there most of the time, either
studying or working out. After unpacking my things, I escaped from the
room.

Across the hall, a door was open and there were five guys lounging around a
smaller room. They called me in and introduced themselves. It turned out
they were all freshman and very friendly. I found a seat on the floor, hung
out for a while, not saying much, but getting to know the others through
their conversation. A few of the guys did most of the talking, so my
comparative silence kind of balanced things out. We all went down to the
dining hall to get something to eat, and by the time that we got back, we
were friends.

Over the next few weeks, we hung out together all the time, either all
together, or in smaller groups. There was always someone to do something
with. And college life began to look up. There were football games, movies,
dorm and frat parties, and lots of beer.

And a class now and then.

And I had friends. In high school, I'd always been shy, lacking in
self-confidence, non- athletic, hanging out with the other misfits. For the
first time in my life, I was one of the guys. But there was a problem. I
was gay and very much in the closet. I'd had a brief sexual relationship
with a friend in high school, but we never talked about it. Over the past
summer, I'd discovered a cruisy park and had had a number of brief
anonymous encounters there, but that's all they were. I'd never talked to
anyone about being gay, and now that I had some friends, I had no intention
to.

Our college was all men, which was fine by me, but not with the other
guys. The women's college was across town, so we all spent a lot of time
over there. The guys seemed to think about girls as much as I thought about
guys. Pretty soon, everyone was pairing off. I was fortunate to get `stuck'
with a very nice, very Catholic girl who made it clear she wouldn't even
consider kissing until she was engaged; a perfect girlfriend for me.

A few months into the semester, I found myself alone one evening, wandering
the campus near the administration buildings. These were the original
buildings of the school, very old and on a block closest to downtown. There
was a low stone wall surrounding the block. I'd been walking a while, so I
sat on the wall to rest a bit. After a few minutes, I noticed that a car
had passed me several times, it was obviously circling the block. Maybe the
fourth time around; he pulled in to the cub and put down the right window.

"Oh, great," I thought, "He's going to ask directions, and I probably know
less about this area than he does."

Instead, his question was, "Want your cock sucked?"

I couldn't believe I was hearing right, so I said, "Excuse me?"

"Do you want your cock sucked?"

The brazenness of the question, and the realization that I was on campus
and one of my friends could appear any minute put me off.

"No, thanks," I said as I hopped off the wall crossed the street and headed
back to the dorm.

But every free evening I had afterwards found me hanging out at the wall.
Usually it was the same thing, older guys driving around and around,
sometimes stopping, always with corny lines. One guy actually asked me the
time. I leaned in his window, read the time from his dashboard clock and
walked away. Sometimes, there were other young guys like me, walking around
the block, or just hanging around. One night, this beautiful young black
man struck up a conversation with me. He was an upperclassman and we
strolled around the block, making small talk about school. He lived in a
rooming house a couple of blocks off campus and asked me if I wanted to
stop by. Did I? He stopped at a tavern on the corner to pick up some beer
to take back. While he was at the bar, I checked him out a bit. He was
about my height, 5'10", medium build, on the slim side with a really cute
face. I'd never been with a black guy, never even thought of being with a
black guy, but he was cute and hot.

We got back to his room, had some beer and just talked for a while.
Usually, I had a hard time holding up my end of conversations, thinking of
things to say. But it was easy with him. He introduced himself as Alfie,
and I surprised myself by giving, not only my real first name (I usually
gave a nickname or my middle name), but my last name as well. We talked
about being gay on campus. He had a few gay friends there. I told him I was
very much in the closet. We talked about family ("Never tell your mother!")
He brought out some gay porn magazines, the first I'd ever seen and we
looked through them a while.

We moved over to the bed and slowly undressed each other. We lay there
pressed together, kissing, nibbling on each other. It was so sweet and
comfortable and sexy all at the same time. One of us turned so that we were
in a 69 position and we sucked each other for a while. Then we turned back
to face each other and he reached under the bed and brought out a bottle of
baby oil. He poured some over my stiff dick and some over his. Then he took
my dick in his hand and placed my hand on his. And we began slowly stroking
each other in unison. It was slow and gentle, kissing each other deeply and
stroking each other. He was so hot, so sexy. Kissing his mouth, his neck,
licking his smooth chest and his hard nipples. And stroking that beautiful
rigid cock. Our breathing became more rapid as we both neared orgasm. It
his me first, my first shot hitting me in the neck, with the next several
spraying all over my chest and stomach. As I started to come, my hand
involuntarily slowed down on his cock, so with he placed his other hand
over mine and together we kept pumping his dick. Only seconds after my
orgasm subsided, he exploded, with shot after shot hitting his chest, my
chest and both our stomachs. We turned in toward each other and kissed
again, our hot sticky bodies pressed together. Finally, he got up and got a
towel and we gently cleaned each other up. We snuggled just a little while
longer and then I got up and got dressed, kissed him goodnight and went
back to the dorm.

Not long after that the campus closed down for the holidays and I went
home. A couple of days after Christmas, my sister called me to the
phone. She had an extension in her room, so I took the call there. As she
handed me the phone she said, "It's some guy named Alfie."

I panicked, I froze, I died. A guy I'd had sex with was calling my parent's
house and had just talked to my sister. It's like my heart just stopped
beating.

Finally, I found my voice and spoke into the phone, trying to sound as
natural as possible, "Hey Alfie, how's it going?"

"Hi Mike, I hope you don't mind me calling you at home, but I noticed we
don't live too far apart and thought maybe you'd like to get together and
do something over vacation."

"Well, actually, I'm pretty tied up with family and seeing old friends for
the rest of the week. Sorry," I lied.

"That's okay. I know its last minute. How about when we get back to
school?"

"Sounds good to me. By the way, how'd you get the number here?"

"Easy. You told me your last name so I looked you up in the student
directory. It gives dorm addresses, campus PO Boxes and home addresses and
telephone numbers."

"Oh. I wouldn't have thought of that. Why don't you drop me a note after
vacation and we'll get together then?"

"Sounds good. See you then."

I was in a quandary, I really liked him and I had really enjoyed our time
together in bed.

And he was the first gay guy I'd ever really had a chance to talk to. But
he was more out than I was. He had gay friends; I had straight friends I
couldn't risk losing. I kept thinking, "What if I'm walking down College
Avenue with one of the guys from the dorm and Alfie walks up and says
hi. How could I explain that?" Talk about irrational paranoia. There was no
way an explanation would be needed. No one would guess Alfie was gay or
that anything was going on. He could just have been a guy from one of my
classes, but I couldn't see that. I was deep in the closet and very
paranoid.

A couple of days after returning from vacation, I found a sweet card from
Alfie in my mailbox, telling me how much he had enjoyed our evening
together and how much he wanted to see me again. He gave me the phone
number of his rooming house and asked me to call. I read he note over and
over, torn about what to do. Finally, I walked over to the door, tore the
card in half, dropped it in the garbage can and went back to the dorm.

I came out a couple of years later and kept hoping I'd run into Alfie
somewhere so I could apologize. But I never did. He was so sweet, obviously
liked me and treated me so beautifully, and I led him on and didn't even
have the decency to explain to him why I couldn't see him again. I can
rationalize and blame it on the closet, but it was still wrong and after
all these years, I still owe him an apology.