Date: Wed, 06 Dec 2006 11:12:11 -0600
From: Mike Angelo <mikeangelo@mail.com>
Subject: Tutoring Zun

This is the story of two college friends who become lovers.  If you are
not 18 years of age or older, or if it is illegal in the place you reside
to read such material, or if it offends you that two college guys should
fall in love and have sex, then you must leave.

This story is copywrited, all rights reserved to the author.  It may not
be copied or reproduced in any form without his explicit permission; the
only exception is its use by the wonderful people at Nifty.

As always, I would like to hear from readers; I appreciate every single
comment you make.  Please refer to the title of the story in the subject
line.  If you have a comment or suggestion, my address is at the
conclusion of the story.


TUTORING ZUN


"It does not work, this spelling check," Zun said as he pointed to his
paper.  There were several words circled in red and a note about spelling
in the border.  It sounded as though the instructor were as upset about
it as Zun.

I took the paper from him and saw the reason for the mistakes.  "No,
spell check doesn't always catch everything.  You can't rely on it; you
have to proof everything," I explained.

Because of the look of confusion on his face, I explained one of the
limitations of the computer age.  Zun was actually doing very well - a
lot better than I would have done if our positions had been reversed.  He
was an exchange student from China, an entering freshman at my college
and a resident on the floor for which I was Resident Assistant.  I think
it was because of that sign on my door he had first begun to ask me
questions.  I was a sophomore English major, and I was only too glad to
answer some of his questions.

After a month of this, it had begun to be a pretty regular thing, his
knocking on my door with another question about writing, grammar,
spelling, vocabulary.  I didn't actually mind it.  In fact, we had gotten
to know each other a bit.  He was rather uncertain of himself in an
American setting, though excited about the opportunity.  He had spent a
year after the equilivent of high school in a special school in
preparation for American studies. So, he was actually my own age - I had
recently turned over a "19" on my odometer.  His name was actually
spelled "Xun" he had told me, but he spelled it with a "Z" to help people
pronounce it correctly.  He was the oldest son of an apparantly
well-to-do family; his father was some kind of businessman.  It was his
father who encouraged him to study in America.

"Look," I said, as I montioned for him to sit on the bed next to my
desk.  (As an RA I have a single room, but it's merely half the size of a
room for two, so there isn't much in it!)  "I can see that it might help
you to get a little tutoring in English.  Don't misunderstand me; you
speak and write unbelievably well - lots better than I would be able to
speak and write Chinese.  But right now, the beginning of your studies
here, would be a better time to work on it than later.  Would you be
interested?"

He asked about cost, schedule and other things, so I sent him to the
office which dealt with such things.  I knew he was very serious about
his studies, and I admired him for that.  He was a very attractive, very
intelligent guy, and I knew he would do well.

The next afternoon he came into my room (knocking first, of course, even
though the door was open) and reported on his effort.  "I said to her I
would like you to tutor me," he said, with a small smile.

"Me?  But I'm not a tutor.  I mean, I'm not in that program.  They have
students who have signed up for it, part of their work-study
arrangement."

"Yes.  She told me that.  But I said I know you.  You are a good student,
student of English.  She tell me to ask you if you will do it and to see
her.  Please."

Well, that's how I got my new job.  I got myself registered and approved,
discovered I would be paid $18 an hour by the university, and was rather
pleased about it.  Now for some honesty here.  I was happy for a reason
to spend more time with Zun.  I've mentioned that he is very attractive.
I didn't mention that I'm very gay.  I am a very straight-acting guy whom
no one at home suspects (except a few high school buddies with whom I'd
experienced some sex).  And no one here suspects for the simple reason
that I have done nothing here at all in the sex department.  Unless you
count jacking off.  That, actually, was a significant bonus to being an
RA; I could close the door and get private with my privates whenever I
wanted.  In the shower room, it was not only "look but don't touch;" it
was "look but not much or they'll know."

The previous year, my freshman year, had been agony.  I found myself so
very attracted to the guys here, not just the ones in the dorm but guys
in classes, in the library, in the dining hall.  The place was crawling
with beautiful, beautiful bodies.  And the dorm positively reeked of
sex.  I knew that virtually all of the 18 guys on my floor jacked off.  I
never caught my first year roommate (not a very nice guy, by the way),
but I'm sure the stalls and showers were used for it regularly.  That's
the way I used them, anyway.  The only time I ever jacked off in my room
last year was when my roomie was safely home for the weekend (which was
pretty frequently, thank goodness) and I could get naked and play as much
as I wanted.  That's one of the primary reasons I applied to be an RA --
the single room.

I am not a sex fiend.  I've sucked and been sucked, but I've never even
done any fucking, for god's sake!  I am just a normal
recently-turned-19-year-old who feels his hormones.  In fact, I've been
pretty pleased with the way I've been able to handle myself on campus.
No one knows a thing.  The only problem with that is that I am getting
nothing.  It's a religious campus, and everyone tiptoes around the
subject of sex.  And I don't suppose I'll be getting anything any time
soon.

That has not kept me from looking, though.  And that is one very
important, albeit selfish, reason I was happy to tutor Zun.  He is about
three inches shorter than my 5'11" and has a better build.  I'm slim (not
skinny), and he is slim but well-muscled.  In fact, I loved it when he
wore a sleeveless T in the dorm; his biceps were lovely, and his chest
well-defined.  I had actually seen him naked a few times, though only
from the rear.  There is a long bench in the shower room for guys to get
undressed, but the shower stalls had curtains.  He has a butt to die
for.  Round and bubble.  The way it moves, especially in those very short
and tight boxers he wears.  They're not really boxers, but they're not
briefs, either -- something he brought from home.  They are dark blue,
and they set off the skin tone of his stomach and thighs beautifully.

His hair is coal black, of course.  I've seen no hair on him other than
his head and just a hint of his underarms.  None to interfere with the
lovely lines of his legs.  None on his chest.  Yes, I've seen him with
his shirt off.  The tone of his skin is light enough to contrast
perfectly with his dark nipples.  I think of him often at night.  I feel
a little guilty, feeling this way about him and getting paid to be with
him, as though I'm using him.  I guess I am, aren't I?

The schedule we set up was not that demanding.  We would do some basic
work with grammar to begin with, he would write a few short essays for me
on subjects of his own choosing, and we'd talk about them.  That's how we
got to know each other pretty well.  He wrote often about his home and
family.  He was obviously very homesick.  So we talked about his family,
his schools, his friends, and all the experiences he had as a new student
in a strange land.  I began to admire his dedication even more.

And I genuinely loved being around him.  After a while, we became very
informal with each other, especially as he relaxed to live as a college
student in a dorm.  He became more casual around the guys on the floor,
too, though still more reserved than anyone else.  And -- praise
the lord! -- he began to dress as most of the other guys did.  He was
frequently in tank tops and those blue shorts, even in the hall.  And
sometimes on the way to the john he didn't even bother with the tank
top.

I was becoming seriously obsessed.  Or was I simply a horny gay
looking for eye candy?  Whatever it was, there were many nights when I
went to bed naked, my hand on my cock and my mind on Zun.  But I
continued to be very careful.  I was not going to do or say anything that
might offend, upset, or harm someone whose cultural mindset I couldn't
even begin to understand.

The first time I touched him was purely an accident.  He was sitting on
the edge of my bed, and I had a couple of books open to show him
something.  When I moved a book, my hand brushed almost the entire length
of his thigh, from his knee to the top of his shorts.  I was horrified.
It was so important to me that I not offend him.  I think I was able to
continue talking without missing a beat, but I'm not sure.  I didn't see
any reaction at all from him, but I had no way to know what he was
thinking.  I tried to keep my mind on track, but it kept returning to the
warmth, the smoothness...  I started to get hard, so I stood up quickly
and ended the session.

That was in the afternoon.  I saw him in the hall that evening, and he
didn't seem to act differently.  How he felt about it was important to
me, and I was honest enough to know it was because I really liked this
guy.  A lot.

Late that night, he appeared at the door and asked if I could check
something he was writing.  But he asked me to come to his room; his paper
was still on his computer.  I'd been in his room before, of course.  I
followed him in, noting that his roommate was gone.  He sat at his
computer and I stood behind him as he pointed something out on the
screen.  I had to stoop down to read it better, and I found myself with
my face almost next to his, his bare shoulder at my chin.  I had never
been this close to him before.  I couldn't help but look down.  His chest
was moving with his breath; I could see his nipples pointing through his
tank top.  His small waist was hidden from me, as was his crotch. His
thighs looked so strong from my vantage point above him.  I could smell
his scent.  My breath was probably brushing his shoulder...

He was speaking, and I had completely blanked out for a monent.  I jerked
to a standing position.  "Uh...just what do you mean?" I said, trying to
cover the fact that I hadn't heard a word.

"The paragraph.  It is too long?  But it is all about the same subject.
I do not know where to stop it."  He looked up at me.  I was standing too
close.  His face was the most beautiful I'd ever seen.  I became
unreasonably warm; my stomach fluttered.

"I see the problem, I think," I stalled, trying to find the problem.
"Yes, well, maybe you could use that sentence" -- I pointed over his
shoulder to the screen -- "where you refer to the other book, use it as
the first sentence of the next paragraph..."  I had no idea what I was
saying.  I was 19 and babbling like a schoolboy.  This had to stop right
now.

"Zun, I think if you break the paragraph there, it will be okay.  I'm
sorry, but I really don't feel so well.  That dining hall food, you
know...  I think I'd better go back.  Maybe later, okay?"  I turned and
left.  Nothing like being rude to cover your tracks.

I conducted myself more carefully from that point on.  The only time I
allowed myself to think of him sexually was at night.  Then I decided I
should not allow myself to do even that.  Well, I tried that, anyway.  It
just wouldn't work.  But I did make an effort to be more careful.  We
were in and out of each others rooms more frequently, and it was obvious
that we had become friends, not just classmates.

One day I found him sitting at his computer but staring at a framed
picture on the shelf above.  I asked him about the picture, which I had
noticed before.

"It is my family," he said.  "My grandmother, here is my father, and this
is my little brother.  Today is his birthday.  He is 14.  But he is 12 in
the picture.  I wrote him a letter."

"He's a nice looking kid, Zun," I said.  "I know you miss him."

"He is very smart.  Good at sports.  In my country I would not say this
about him, but I think in America it is okay.  I love my brother very
much."

He looked up at me, and I think his eyes were damp.  I smiled.  "Yes,
Zun.  It's a good thing for a guy to love his brother.  And in this
country it's okay to say it.  He's lucky to have a big brother like
you."  I wanted to put my arm around him, but I had wanted to do that
many times before.

"And I would say this, too," Zun said as he stood to face me.  "You are a
very good friend.  You make me very welcome.  You help me, too, but you
make me feel...welcome."

"Th...thanks," I stammered.  "You're a good friend, too, Zun."  Had I
ever said such a thing to anyone before?  Anyone? Ever?  But I meant it
very much.  And I honestly felt compelled to reach over and squeeze his
shoulder.  Just a little.  Just once.  It was awkward.  But it felt okay,
and I think he took it that way, too.

One other RA and I stayed in the dorm over Christmas break.  It was to
remain open -- though everything else on campus was closed -- because
there were so many exchange students who had no other place to go.  Zun,
in fact, was the only other person on my floor.  We spent a lot of time
together, and we ate together at least once every day; the dining hall
was closed, and I had a car to take us to several different restaurants.
Occasionally one or two of the other foreign students would accompany us,
and meals were always lively, with lots of conversation.

I intended to remain on campus even for the holiday itself.  I did not go
home for Christmas last year, either; things were not going well there.
But I decided to do something special for Zun on Christmas.  I told him
we would go to a rather fancy restaurant (one out of our usual price
range) for Christmas dinner; it would be my treat.

We dressed -- suits and ties, the whole bit.  He was very handsome.  I
think he was a little self-conscious in the restaurant, but he soon
relaxed.  He asked me to order for him, so I ordered the traditional
turkey-and-dressing-and-all-the-trimmings for both of us.  I also ordered
wine, and we laughed as the waiter checked our IDs -- we were both "of
age" by barely months.  We spent a lot of time at the meal, and it was
one of the most pleasurable experiences I'd had in a while.

When we got back to the dorm, he thanked me again.  I barely had my tie
off back in my room when there was a knock at the door.  Zun came in,
still decked out in his suit and tie, and handed me something with some
tissue around it.

"You have been very kind.  It was a wonderful dinner today.  It was the
best time I have spent in America.  I...I have a gift for you."

"A gift?  Oh, Zun, that's not necessary.  I enjoyed it as much as you
did.  You don't need to..."

"Yes," he said, interrupting me -- and that's something he never does.
"In my country it is a custom to give gift when the...host gives special
dinner.  Please.  To take it is an honor for me."

I opened the paper, and I found the beautiful frame in which that family
picture had been.  The frame was inlaid with what looked to be silver and
brass and decorated with some very attractive stones.

"It's beautiful, Zun.  But I can't take this; this is for your family
picture."

"No, I can put picture in another frame when I get one.  I want you to
take this.  Please."

I was embarrassed, but I was putting him in the position of begging me to
take a gift.  I thanked him again and told him this would have very
special meaning for me.  Then I got an idea.

Before he turned to leave, I asked him to wait just a moment.  I went
over to my desk and shuffled through some papers in the drawer.  To be
honest, I didn't really have to search for it.  It was right at the front
where I could see it frequently.  It was a picture that had been taken at
the picnic welcoming the exchange students to campus back in August.  As
an RA I was one of those preparing things that day.  A girl was taking
lots of pictures for the school paper, and a week later she had sent this
one to me.  I didn't even remember it being taken, but there were lots of
students around that day; people were meeting and chatting all over the
place.  The photo was of Zun and me.  We were both smiling into the
camera, though at the time we didn't even know each other.

I placed the photo in the frame -- it was slightly too small, but that
could be fixed later -- and set it on the shelf above the desk.  "There,"
I said, and I stepped back so Zun could see.

He looked stunned.  Of course, he hadn't known about the picture.  Then a
huge smile appeared.

"It is...us...you and me!"  He laughed.  "It is good in the frame."  His
face became more solemn as he added, "I am happy you have such a
picture.  It is...thank you." And he turned quickly to go back his own
room.  I am sure there were tears in his eyes.  I was not imagining that.

On New Years Eve a party was thrown together at the last minute for all
the foreign students.  It was a nice thought, but it was a rather tame
party.  Zun and I left early, and we went to a nearby watering hole
frequented by those few students who drank.  Religious school, remember?
The place was very crowded and noisy, but it was fun.  We hoisted a few
and maybe one or two too many.  At midnight everyone sang "Auld Lang
Syne," and Zun, who didn't have the faintest clue about the words, gave
it a good try.  We laughed and then exchanged a New Year's hug.

As we walked back to the dorm Zun was having a little trouble with his
feet, so I put my arm around him to support him.  It was as natural a
thing as that hug.  But when we got back to his room he was simply too
out of it -- almost on the verge of falling asleep -- to do much but fall
onto his bed.  He was asleep immediately.  I pulled his shoes off his
feet and straightened his legs on the bed.  And stood looking at him a
moment.  He looked like an angel.  Maybe it was the booze, but I was
suddenly hit with such an emotional attraction for this boy.

I turned, closed the door, and went back to my room.  I am trying to be
very honest about this, so I will add that I teared up some before I went
to sleep.  Maybe the booze and the physical contact...  Seeing him lie
there so peacefully...  Well.

The dorm returned to its normal chaos when classes resumed in January.  I
continued to "tutor" Zun twice a week, but in reality I was simply
proofing papers that didn't really need it.  He was really doing well.
And actually, we spent more time -- not just in those sessions, but at
other times -- talking about content, what he was writing.  A history
paper produced a couple of long discussions about American history; he
was especially fascinated with the Civil War.  There were ethics
questions raised by some of his reading in English lit.

I had stayed away from politics in our conversations, not certain what
Zun would want to hear or say in such a discussion.  I knew things were
very different for him at home, politically.  But we worked our way
around to that, too.  Many of our conversations took on a personal tone,
and this one turned in that direction, too.  It seemed that his father
was not a businessman at all.  Zun was not supposed to talk about it, but
he wanted me to know that his father had some kind of position in a
government department having to do with newspapers -- he explained it,
but I didn't quite get it all.  In fact, Zun was not quite certain
himself exactly what his father did.

Zun was afraid he was being "groomed" by his father to go into some kind
of government work, and he simply did not want that.  He said he loved
his country, but there were many things he did not like about its
government.  He had been raised not to question such things, he said, but
he questioned many things.  But he never spoke aloud about his
reservations with anyone, he said, until now.  Until he had a good
friend in whom he could confide. We talked.  That is, he did the
talking.  I could offer little in the way of advice, but I asked
questions now and then, and he seemed to think that helped.

This conversation took us far into a weekend night.  We were both sleepy,
but I did not want the conversation to end until he himself wanted it to
end.  I don't think anything was resolved in his mind, but he finally
stood and thanked me for talking with him.  For a moment I thought he was
going to say more, but he left for his room.  I realized that night I had
made a very good friend, one about whose life and future I cared a great
deal.

That did not deter my fantasies about him, I'm sorry to say.  That seemed
very inappropriate, to say the least, very immature, too.  But I could
not stop the feeling I was developing for Zun.  And that feeling included
a deep sexual attraction.  I reminded myself I had had schoolboy crushes
before (and that's another story).  But there were so many nights -- so
many nights! -- when I jerked off in bed to the images of Zun in my head,
shooting all over myself the cum I then had to eat alone.

With the dorm in full swing, the bodies paraded around the halls all the
time.  It seemed the colder it got outside the less guys wanted to wear
in the dorm!  Maybe there was some kind of sexual energy in these guys
that needed some kind of expression.  Whatever the reason for it, I
enjoyed it.  Lots of near-nakedness around the lavatories in the morning,
shaving and washing up.  Guys in boxers or briefs bent over with their
asses stuck out as they brushed their teeth.  Towels wrapped around
waists, and here and there a hint of tenting.  The comaradie of the
shower room itself was delicious. Naked guys toweling off, chatting,
joking.  I would have sworn that there were a few guys who were showing
off their cocks on a few occasions, but then I'm gay and horny, so what
do I know?

I didn't mind being naked in there myself.  I had long since gotten
control of my urge to spring boners -- well, part of the time anyway.
Horny straights -- horny religious straights at that -- get their
hormones rushing around, too, and follow some natural urges to show off
the body.  If only half of the guys jacked off in the shower each
morning, and each guy produced about a teaspoon of cum...  I was never
very good at math.

When Zun was there -- which for some reason didn't happen all that much
-- he chatted some, but he was always more modest that anyone else.  He
always turned away when he took off those blue shorts and stepped into
the shower stall with his back to everyone.  When I thought about it, I
realized that he always used the shower stall on the end.  When he turned
away from everyone, he was turning toward a wall.  He'd step out facing
that wall, grab a towel and dry himself turning only slightly if he were
talking to someone.  That would provide a great view of his ass -- so I
never complained -- but that was all.  Whether it was his personality or
his culture, he was very modest.

Spring sprang early.  I remained in the dorm, as I had at Christmas,
during spring break, so Zun and I were able to spend some more time
together.  When everybody returned, the weather warmed up suddenly.
Shorts and tank tops appeared again on campus.  And I had a beautiful
view right outside my window.  The dorm was U-shaped, and my room faced
into the U.  That big lawn was a great place to catch some rays, and lots
of the guys in the dorm did just that.  Spread out in front and two
floors below me was a delicious sight.  For a religious school, some of
the guys wore next to nothing in the sun.  Watching them move around and
rub lotion all over themselves always turned me on.  Some of them even
rubbed lotion on each other.  And some of those guys surely had to be
enjoying themselves in more ways than one.  A good way to express some of
those mysterious, repressed feelings, boys?

And in spring a young man's fancy turns to... I forget what the poet
said, but he was talking about sex.  My fancy always turned in the
spring.  I don't know what it is, but sunshine and warm weather get my
blood up.  So I was a little more careful about going into that shower
room.

 I never went into the showers without wondering who and what might be
seen there, but one spring evening I was alone.  I stood in the warm
water for a while, then soaped myself all over with body wash and created
enough bubbles and lather to move it around.  I smoothed it over my
chest, around my neck, down my arms.  I let some of the suds run down
from the back of my shoulders to my lower back, over my ass, and down
between my cheeks, bending forward a bit to encourage the water into the
crevass and onto that very soft, tight spot.  Ah, spring!

I let my hands follow the lather down and around my ass, then moved them
around to my belly.  After massaging my abs for a moment, I moved my
hands down along the outside of my thighs, around to the inside, then up
until they were on either side of my ballsac.

I turned my hands inward to cup them under my balls, catching the warm
water there, feeling my balls surrounded with the warmth.  Then I applied
more body wash to my belly and worked it into my pubes, creating a
mountain of warm lather and bubbles that slowly moved downward, around my
hard cock, onto my balls.

And with every touch of my hand I was thinking of him, Zun, the lovely
Zun, wishing and wondering what my hands would feel on his body, what his
hands would feel like as they did the same to me.

No.  I was behaving like a schoolboy lusting for his dreamboy.  I was
behaving like that because...that was what I was.  That thought was
depressing enough that I just stood under the water, letting it wash the
suds and my dreams away.  I turned the water off with a sigh and stepped
out of the shower.

And there he stood.  I had seen Zun in the shower room many times before,
but only when he was moving quickly into or out of a shower.  He was just
getting out of a shower two stalls down from mine, stepping across to the
bench for his towel.  For some reason, this time he had stepped out of
the shower facing into the room, rather than toward that wall.

When he saw me, he froze in place and turned fully toward me.  I was
seeing him naked from the front for the first time.

The water was still dripping from his hair, along his neck and onto his
shoulders.  His wet chest glistened, his pecs reflecting the harsh light
and his nipples were tight and hard.  His taut abs moved with his
breath.  My eyes went downward.  Framed by those strong thighs was the
delight I had only dreamed of.  His ballsac was small, very dark,
and drawn up tight from the water and cool air.  Above was a small mound
of dense, dark pubic hair.  And from that mound hung a dark, thick cock.
I had assumed he would be uncut, but he was cut, like me.  His shaft
was a bit shorter than mine, but his cockhead was bigger.  It was
dark, the crown around the head even a bit darker.  It was the most
beautiful thing I had ever seen.

My eyes pulled away to take in his full body.  I looked slowly up to his
face, his eyes, fully aware that each of us had been frozen in
place for a very long few moments.  He was so very beautiful.

"You are so beautiful."

For a moment I thought I had spoken my thoughts aloud.  But the
whisper had been his voice.  For the first time I realized he had been
looking at me as long as I had been looking at him.  And my cock was
still raging from my experience in the shower.

He looked down quickly, grabbed his towel, and left the shower room.
What has happened?  What have I done?  I had been thinking of him, he was
there, he was so very beautiful...  I had spoken aloud, surely, saying
words I could not take back, creating a new situation that could destroy
any friendship.  I wrapped my towel around my waist and returned slowly
to my room.

I half-heartedly toweled off and pulled on a T and sweatpants.  I felt as
though I were moving through water, through molasses.  Zun, let me take
back that shower, those thoughts, let me return to what we had...

I don't know how long I had been standing at my window when there was a
knock on the door.  I muttered something and turned; the door opened, and
Zun stepped in, closing it behind him.  He was dressed again, at least in
a T and those blue shorts.  He stood there silently, in the middle of the
room, his eyes on the floor, and when he spoke it was so quietly I had to
step closer to hear him.

"Please.  I am sorry.  What I said...in my country it is very wrong to
say such a thing...it is a bad thing.  I meant no insult..."

I didn't respond; I didn't know how to respond.  An insult?

"Very bad.  You are my very good friend.  I am not bad person.  Cannot
help what I feel...  You are my very good friend...I cannot help what I
feel..."

He raised his eyes to mine in a silent plea for help in finding the
words, finding a way to say what he could not say.  Is it what I wanted
him to say, or am I rushing to a conclusion that is more hope than
reality?  I stepped closer and took both his hands in mine, raising them
between us.

"Zun," I said directly into his deep, dark eyes, "Zun, you are the very
best friend I have ever had.  I would not allow anything destroy that
friendship.  You know you can tell me anything, and you will still be my
friend.  Zun, you said 'feelings.' " I stopped, uncertain if I should
continue.

After too long a silence, I said, "Zun, are you trying to say...to tell
me that you are gay?  Homosexual?"

He nodded without lowering his eyes from mine.  I moved my hands up along
his arms to his shoulders.

"Zun, you know that I'm gay, too.  You already know that.  Don't you?"

As he nodded his "yes" I moved my arms to his back and drew him closer to
me, against my chest.  I could feel his arms around me, his body pressing
to mine.  He was trembling.  I stroked his back, up and down, and his
trembling slowed, then stopped.

"I love you," he whispered in a soft voice, deep with emotion.  His arms
tightened around me.  "Please...please hold me."

I circled his small waist with my arm and pulled us even closer.  There
could not have been a centimeter of air between our chests, groins,
thighs.  I ran my lips through the soft hair on his head.

"Zun, I have loved you since the day we met."

He turned his head and our eyes locked; then our lips touched, just very
lightly.  I brushed my lips across his, then across his soft, smooth
cheek.  I could feel his heart beat against my chest; I could feel his
pulse as the bulge in his blue shorts grew and pressed against me.  My
lips found his again and, this time, pressed lightly.  It is so warm
here, so soft.  I opened my lips to trace my tongue lightly along his
lips, and they opened slightly.  I felt our tongues meet, moving slowly
against each other, around each other -- moving slowly but more deeply
into our warm mouths.  My heart was pounding.

I pulled away slightly, just enough to look into his eyes again.  I
kissed them.  As I moved from one to the other, he closed his eyes, and I
touched his warm eyelids, my lips brushing his dark brows.  So very
beautiful.  I wanted him so much.  I wanted to give myself to him so
much.

"Zun..."  I stepped back, removed my arms from him, and took the bottom
of his T, and slowly began to pull it upward, slowly enough that he could
stop me if he wanted.  He didn't.  He raised his arms high to allow me to
pull it over his head.  And suddenly his flesh was there, his lovely
chest, his tight nipples, strong shoulders.  Before I could touch him, he
pulled my T upward, and he disappeared from view for a moment; I had to
help him get it over my arms and head.  And we stood exposed.  We ran our
hands over each other -- shoulders, pecs, nipples.  And I sucked in my
breath at the softness of his touch.  Nipples, abs, pecs, shoulders.
Pecs, nipples, abs.  Soft but hard and strong.  Smooth, but I could feel
the movement of his muscles beneath the smoothness.  Hands sliding
around over his smooth warm back.  Faces closer, lips touching, tongues
meeting.  For a very long time we stood against each other, tasting and
breathing each others taste into our lungs.

I withdrew my tongue to lick lightly across his cheek, down his neck.  I
spread light kisses across his shoulder, and he threw his head back in
pleasure as I moved my kisses down and across his chest.  I licked
lightly at one nipple, then the other, then returned to the first to suck
at it slowly.  He gasped and pressed his chest into my mouth.  I left his
nipples and kissed that sweet skin downward, down his abs, across his
bellybutton.  I stopped at the waistband of his shorts.

"Oh, please don't stop," he hissed between clenched teeth; "No, don't
stop."

I kissed that hard mound at the center of those blue shorts.  I ran my
hands around to the back, massaging his ass.

"Wait," I whispered.  I went to the door and turned the lock.  As I
turned back to him, he was still facing the same way, away from me.  I
walked up behind him and circled his chest with my arms.  He lay his head
back on my shoulder and sighed as my fingers explored his chest, his
abs.  I slid my fingers under the waistband of those blue shorts.

"Yes...yes...yes," he whispered.  "Oh, please...yes."

I slowly opened the waistband and slid the shorts down his smooth legs.
The bulge in my sweats now pressed against his warm ass.  I stepped
around in front of him, and he put his hands on my shoulders as I
pulled the shorts off from around his ankles.  Then I allowed myself to
look at the treasure I had uncovered.  It was more beautiful than I
remembered from the shower room.

His cock was also bigger, and very hard.  He was no more than five
inches, perhaps a little more, but on his small frame it was perfect.
And so thick!  His cockhead was fully engorged, a raging red, oozing his
precious precum.  I could not let a drop of it escape.  I took a finger
and gently wiped it from the lips of his cock -- he tightened his hands
on my shoulders and gasped -- and brought it to my mouth.  He was as
delicious as I had known he would be.  I ran my hands up and down the
inside of his smooth thighs and kissed him on each one.  I placed my
hands under his big, dark, smooth ballsac and lifted it.  I inhaled his
scent; it was heavenly.  I licked gently at the side of his ballsac, then
sucked very lightly without taking the balls into my mouth.  His moans
were driving me on to what I wanted.  And needed.

"Zun, you are so beautiful."  And having said it yet again, I licked the
side of his hard cock, from the head to the base, then back up the other
side, all without touching him with my fingers. I licked once more at his
cocklips, tasting his smooth essence, then opened my mouth to pleasure
him.

I sucked lightly at the top of his cockhead, then opened my lips a bit
more to take in just the front half of it.  My tongue teased his cocklips
and I continued sucking.  Very slowly, I sucked more and more of his
heavy cockhead into my mouth until my lips fastened around the crown.  I
stopped sucking and began to pull gently with my lips.

His moans sang his delight, and I began to hum into his cockhead.  He
shook with the new sensation.  I pressed my mouth in toward him and laced
my hands on his soft, warm ass to hold him still.  I sucked more and more
of his shaft into my mouth until my nose was buried in his small bush of
thick hair.  I stopped sucking, letting his cockhead press into the back
of my mouth at my throat, but moving my tongue under his cock, caressing
the undersideof it.  I inhaled the scent of his soft hair.  My own cock
was throbbing, and I could feel the wet spot on my sweatpants.

"Oooooo...Ooooo...Ooooooo," his soft voice sang of his pleasure.  He
moved one hand from my shoulder and began to run it through my hair.  My
sweet Zun.

I slowly pulled away from him, and he moaned his disappointment when his
cock left my mouth.  I took him by the hips and guided him onto the bed.
I stood above him, looking at the beautiful love of my life, and let my
sweatpants drop.  My cock sprang up to slap my belly, and Zun sucked in
his breath when he saw my length and thickness.  Stepping out of my
sweatpants, I lowered myself onto the bed, onto his warm, hard body.  Our
cocks were caught between us, and we began to slowly move in rhythm.
Lowering my face to his, I breathed in his sweet breath, then kissed his
lips.  He opened them for me, and our tongues met again to tenderly lick
and caress, to gently suck each other's breath.

I moved my kisses from his warm mouth to his cheek, then his neck, his
shoulder.  At the center of his chest I paused to lick and suck gently,
then moved to his right nipple.  The dark circle was ready for me, tight
and hard.  As I licked and moved that tender nub of flesh with the tip of
my tongue, Zun groaned and pressed his chest to my mouth.  I sucked his
nipple, teased it with my teeth, pulling it with my teeth so
carefully, sucked gently, then harder.  I left to cross his chest, giving
his left nipple the same pleasures.

Licking my way down his belly, I paused at his bellybutton, washing it
with my tongue, aware of the delight almost within the reach of my
tongue.  I licked, tasted, reveled in the soft hair at that mound, as his
cock slapped against my throat and cheeks, throbbing for attention.
Ignoring it for the moment, I trailed soft kisses alongside his hair down
to his ballsac, licking and sucking at the special spot between the sac
and thigh.  He was grunting with need, and to wait any longer was more
than I could bear myself.  The scent of his sex went to my head and
filled me with need for him.

I engulfed his cock and took half of it into my mouth, then sucked deeply
as the remainder of his shaft plunged to my throat.  I began to pump more
quickly.  I knew he could not last too long now.  I sucked hard as I
pulled up toward his cockhead, plunged downward to bury my nose in his
pubes, and repeated this dance of love until his groans became strangled
gasps.  I felt him tense, his cock enlarging more in my mouth, his
cockhead growing to the point of bursting.

He suddenly froze, shoved his precious cock into my mouth and shot his
hot cream into my throat.  I pulled back, to keep only his cockhead
inside, as he continued to shoot.  He filled my mouth with his cum; it
was hot and sweet and bitter and spicy.  I had never tasted anything like
it.  I swallowed only to receive another huge load, swallowed in time for
another.  His moans were intermingled with gutteral grunts.  I had to
work to keep up with the power and rapidity of his cumming.  I don't know
how many mouthfuls he gave me before his throbbing cock began to lose its
energy and produce only a few more drops.

I continued to suck him, but far more gently, sucking and licking the
remainder of his cum from his cocklips, cleaning his cockhead with my
tongue.  I let his hot, still semi-hard cock slide from my mouth as he
moaned.  I lay quietly beside him to give him the time to enjoy the
wonderful afterglow of such a huge cum.

I was lying half on him and half off, my arm across his chest and my head
at his shoulder.  In a few moments his breathing became more regular, and
he began to stroke my hair.  He was murmuring something; it sounded like
a song.  He was chanting something in his  language.  I lay still,
enjoying the warmth and sound.

"It is a song from my country," Zun said quietly.  "It is a song for
lovers.  The lonely boy sees the first dove of the morning, who brings
him love and happiness."

His voice was quieter.  "You are my dove, my happiness," he said.  "I
love you."

I raised up on my elbows and looked into his eyes.  But I could not speak
for a moment.  There were tears running down my cheeks, and there was no
point in trying to stop them now.  When I collected myself, I had to
whisper, because that was all that was in me.

"Then, Zun, it is a song about you and me, that song for lovers."  I
kissed his cheek.

My bed was just a single, but we needed no more room than we had.  We
couldn't get close enough.  As my cheek returned to his chest, we were
touching from there to our feet, as though we weren't two people anymore,
just one.  He stroked my hair.

"I...I don't know what to do..., " he began.

"I am here," I answered, "and I love you.  "I am here with you, and
anything you want is the right thing to do."

He moved away a bit, and I rolled fully on my back.  He raised himself up
and turned slightly; he just sat there and looked at me, and I could
almost feel his eyes moving around my face, across my chest, touching
every part of my cock and ballsac, moving up and down my legs, returning
to my cock.  He tentatively placed his hand at the middle of my chest.

"I have wanted to touch you...I thought about it so much.  Just to
touch...,"  and his words faded.

"I am here, beautiful Zun.  Touch me as you wish.  Caress me, stroke me,
taste me -- this is the time."

He leaned in to briefly touch my lips with his, then raised up again as
his fingers began to move.  It was as though he were drawning me on a
sketch pad.  He traced my neck and shoulders, my chest.  Ran his fingers
lightly around and over my hard nipples.  I closed my eyes and
surrendered my mind to the sensations.  His fingers ran down my chest to
my abs, tracing the lines there, then back up to repeat the entire
motion.  He ran his fingers around my bellybutton, dipping a finger into
it.  Up to my shoulders, down again.  I felt as though I were a fragile
piece of art being carefully examined by an appreciative artist, a
painting appearing slowly as the artist's brush applied stroke after of
stroke in just the right place.

My skin was so alive that when he brushed slowly through my pubic hair
and touched my cock I jumped as though I had been shocked.  My eyes flew
open, and I looked down to see his fingers run slowly up and down my cock
as it lay back against my belly.  The soft underbelly of it was pulsing
so much I thought I could actually see it.  When I looked up to Zun, I
saw that he was looking at my face, not at the location of his hands.  He
smiled.

He reached for the inner thigh of my leg and pulled it, opening my legs
for his fingers, and moved his hand up and down.  I sighed deeply.  Then
he turned a little on the bed so he could lean into my crotch.  He
touched nothing.  I couldn't see his eyes, but I could feel them.  Up and
down my cock, down and around my balls.  That center of me was radiating
so much heat he had to feel it.  Still, he touched nothing, except for
his hand on my thigh.

"It is so...beautiful, your...cock," he said, and I realized it was the
first time he had spoken the word to me, perhaps the first time he had
ever spoken it aloud.  "I love it.  It is part of you.  It is just
right."  And he leaned down and kissed my cock where it meets my
ballsac.  I gasped as his lips touched me.  Then he licked me there.  My
god!  It was electrifying!  My cock was probing the air, still on my
belly, begging.

He licked my ballsac once, then raised up to look at me, as though he
were making sure what he was doing was all right.  "Oh, Zun -- that is
magical!"  He smiled and returned to lick my ballsac from side to side.
I could feel my balls moving, exhilarating in the attention of his warm
tongue.  Then he licked my balls up and down, lifting my sac a bit as he
started his tongue just underneath it and licking as far as the base of
my cock.  My poor cock!  I could see it oozing precum, needing attention!

My belly, my gut was twisting inside from the exquisite agony he was
creating.  My god!  This boy who had never before touched a man -- he
must have dreamed dream after dream of what he would do if he ever got
the chance.  Had he teased his own balls so much?  Did he know, or was he
reacting to my slow writhing and moaning beneath his mouth?

He raised his lips to the base of my cock above the ballsac and raised
his hand to cup my balls at the same time.  He sucked there once, twice.

"Zun!  Wait!"  I must have sounded as though I were calling a halt to the
whole thing, because he raised up with a look of disappointment on his
face.

"No, lovely Zun, I don't mean stop.  Never that.  It's just that you're
about to bring me to a climax -- make me cum.  I wanted you to know that,
that's all.  Oh, Zun you have no idea how you are exciting me!"

"If you are about to do it then I must suck," he said, matter-of-factly.
He raised himself slightly, took my throbbing cock in his hand, and held
it  up.  He looked at my swollen cockhead -- had it ever been so swollen?
-- for a moment, then he lowered his head and licked my precum.  Without
hesitation, he took my cockhead into his mouth.  It was not that it
seemed to have been forever since I had been sucked, though, in fact, it
had not happened since I left my hometown after high school -- almost two
years ago!  It was not that I had gone days without jacking off, building
up and loading my balls.  It was one thing and one thing only. The boy I
loved was doing one of the most intimate things a lover can do.  I
entrust my cock to him, and he makes love to me by receiving it eagerly.

He sucked slowly at first, and that was the only way I was able to
contain my climax.  Then he moved more of my cock into his mouth, sucking
as he moved downward.  It was very slow.  But I felt the urgency building
in me, the heat that must erupt.  I was moving almost violently beneath
him, thrusting myself into him, desperately needing to offer him the
essence of me.

And when my cockhead pressed against the soft palate of the back of his
mouth -- I realized later I should have been surprised he could have
taken so much of me into himself -- I exploded.  With a strangled cry
rising from my throat, my cum surged up my cockshaft and through my
cockhead.  My cocklips were forced open violently, and a gusher of my
cream was shot out into my lover's mouth.  Somehow I felt the back of his
mouth moving as he swallowed, but before I could react to the sensation I
erupted again.

He choked a bit as he stuggled to swallow but continue to suck at the
same time.  Almost immediately after that surge, a third followed it,
filling his mouth.  Then there was another -- I was pouring myself into
him!  And another! The next was not as forceful, but it felt as though
there were as much volumn, then, after just a brief second, another.
After another pause, another.  Then I was dribbling into his mouth; I
could feel the odd sensation as cum more slowly seeped rather than shot.

Finally, it subsided.  I was panting, almost gasping.  Never, never had I
experiened a climax so overpowering!  I groaned as Zun continued to lick
my cock, still in his mouth.  As it slowly softened, it slipped out of
his mouth, but he continued to lick.  I couldn't speak.  It was all I
could do to breath.

He lay his head on my abs, facing my pubes and cock, his hand now gently
cupping my balls again.  He watched as my cock slowly returned to its
flacid size, then kissed my pubes.  He raised up and  moved his face to
mine, and we kissed deeply.  I tasted myself in his warm mouth.  I was
almost too weak to move my tongue; he gently probed and pulled the
remainder of my cum from his mouth and transfered it to me.  We breathed
in each others breath.

When he lay back down, his face on my chest, I thought I felt some of my
cum on his lips or cheek, but then I realized he was quietly weeping.  He
began to sing again, the love song he had sung earlier.

That most beautiful of any experience I had known began a life-changing
relationship.

We very carefully hid our newly-expressed love from anyone and everyone.
Two weeks later, after semester exams were over, we moved into an
apartment three blocks from campus.  We lived as students, friends,
lovers.  We knew that in two more years I would graduate, and in another
year he would graduate.  But we didn't need to speak of that for a while.

All we needed was each other.

He was the love of my life.  And I was his dove, his happiness.

--------------

I genuinely hope you enjoyed reading this story as much as I enjoyed
writing it.  I would be very pleased to receive your comments and/or
suggestions.  mikeangelo@mail.com

These are the stories I have posted at Nifty, the date of the post, and
the section where you'll find them.

"Brian and Benny" - Oct 18 2006 - High School; "Two Nights with Ronnie" -
Oct 27 2006 - High School; "An Afternoon at the Airport" - Nov 2 2006 -
Adult/Youth; "A Sweet Pecker" - Nov 10 2006 - Adult/Youth; "Exploring
with Joe" - Dec 3 2006 - Young Friends