Date: Mon, 23 Feb 2004 15:40:37 -0800 (PST)
From: Balthazaro <balthazaro@yahoo.com>
Subject: Welcome to the Dorms I (College, m/m mast)

This work is copyrighted by its author.  It may not be
used without his express permission.  Private
individuals are given permission to have one (1)
electronic and/or one (1) printed copy of this story.
Nifty is given permission to archive this work.

If stories about homosexual acts offend you, please
don't read it... I hate to cause conniptions.  *grin*
If you like it (or don't like it) please let me know
at balthazaro@yahoo.com.

*******************************

Dorm life was nothing like I thought it would be.
Growing up a sheltered only child in a middle-class
suburb in the Midwest, I thought of college as a sort
of Happy Days type experience... wild frat parties
aside, I thought it would be something like what I
knew -- one huge high school where you didn't go home.
Boy was I mistaken.

"Steve," my mother asked me as she left, "are you sure
you're going to be alright?  If you need anything,
just call... It's a long way from home to
Williamsburg, but Dad and I can come right back if you
need something."  Despite my father's stoic silence
and periodic eye-rolling, the lecture went on for over
forty five minutes; I tuned her out as usual.  At the
time, I thought she was being over-protective...
alright, she was.  She always had been, after all.
Still, William & Mary was as unlike Gary, Indiana as
the dark side of the Moon, and Mom in her own mommish
way had picked up on that immediately.  Her long,
pointless tirade basically boiled down to two words:
"I'm worried."

When we finally arrived in Williamsburg after being on
the road for three days, we spent the night in (yet
another) hotel.  Early the next morning, my parents
helped me get settled into my room in the dorm.  Once
I was moved in they went off to do touristy stuff,
looking at Colonial Williamsburg stuff and shopping on
Duke of Gloucester street.  I was immediately caught
up in the whirl of orientation, meeting my RA, a nice
guy from Alexandria named Scott, and reading the
approximately five books worth of orientation material
the college had decided I needed.  Talking to Scott, I
found out that I was one of the first kids to arrive,
and that I would be rooming with a guy named Vincent
Giordano.  Scott was almost too helpful - he talked to
me for over an hour, telling me where the cafeteria
was, how the laundry area worked, how to read my class
schedule, where the frats were, good places to eat, on
and on and on.  Luckily I was used to my mother's
verbal barrages, or I think my ears would have fallen
off.  By the time he left my head was swimming.

When my parents showed up that night to collect me for
dinner, I felt numb from too much information --
serious brain overload time.  My mother wanted to eat
in the cafeteria "to see what it was like", but my
father thankfully put the kibosh on that.  We went to
dinner in some restaurant they had spotted in their
wandering, and my mother started in on the `are you
sure you're going to be OK here' song again;
everything was fine, I assured her.  Everything would
be fine, I was fine, it was all fine, fine, fine,
fine.  The rest of the night was a blur... I remember
my father's firm handshake and clap on the back, my
mother's tearful hug, and finally squeezing myself
into the tiny, flat dorm bed.

I had always been a morning person, so I woke up with
the sun.  Birds were singing outside my window, and
the campus was still and quiet.  The dorms were
seriously ugly -- the walls in both the halls and rooms
were painted that pale hospital green, and the floor
tiles were grayish chocolate brown; it was like
walking around in a dirty chocolate mint sundae.
Looking around the room, it was tiny; half the size of
my room at home, which I had thought was somewhat
cramped.  I'm not fat, by any means, but I am lanky
and tall like my father and his family, the Sorensens;
I couldn't imagine sharing this almost miniature room
with someone else.  Having just woken up, my morning
wood was making a huge tent in my boxers.  I'm hung
pretty well too (at least according to what I've read)
coming in at just over seven inches of thick, curved
meat, so hiding my erection was not really an option.
Based on what the past four years had shown me, waking
up without an erection wasn't really an option either.
 Which raised yet another issue I hadn't really
thought about until now... privacy.  How could I jerk
off with someone else living here?

My old standby the bathroom was going to be dicey for
such activity as well.  I ran track in high school, so
I was used to locker rooms, but sharing a bathroom and
shower area with 14 other guys was going to be...
interesting.  The dorm floor was laid out like a lower
case `h', with the bathroom area being between the two
bars and rooms lining the outside, so no room was too
far from one of the heavy wooden doors that led into
the bathroom.  Well, as my mother would say, "one
problem at a time".  I grabbed my toiletries kit,
towel and shampoo, threw on my bathrobe and headed for
the shower.

In the bathroom, I pushed through the swinging door
into the shower area and took off my robe.  I turned
on the water and tested it... ice cold.  I let it run
for a few minutes, and finally it got to a human
temperature, so I shucked my boxers and hopped in.
Looking at the layout, I was glad I had bought some
shower sandals; there were only three shower stalls,
and I didn't want to track through anything
disgusting.  My morning wood had gone down while
testing the cold water, but as I soaped myself it
stood up again hard as a rock.  I slid my soapy hand
over it, and started a quick rhythm; I needed to get
off badly, since I hadn't had a chance in two days.
My last cum was a very nervous quickie in a hotel
shower two days before, while staying with my parents
in the hotel -- not the most relaxing of venues.  Now
my balls were taut and aching in their sack, I needed
to cum so bad.  It only took a few minutes of stroking
for them to draw up tight, and I could feel the
familiar tension knotting between my legs as my
fingers slid across my upturned cock.  The hot water
streamed across the sparse hairs on my chest as I
leaned back against the wall.  I kept jacking with my
slick right hand while my left hand slid down to pull
on my soapy, cum-filled nuts.  The hot water running
through my pubes and across my balls felt awesome.
This was going to be good.

Just as I was approaching the point of no return, I
heard someone come into the bathroom.  Shit, shit,
shit!  I tried to keep going, but there was no way to
stroke without making a noise that would tell anyone
else in the bathroom exactly what was going on.  Given
how clearly I could hear this guy sighing from his
first piss of the morning, I knew that the
`thwap-thwap-thwap' sound of me beating off would be
clearly audible.  Standing there, cock in hand, I
waited for the sound of the door... and instead, heard
the shower area door clunk open.  "Morning, Steve!"
Of course, it was Scott, the RA That Never Shut Up.

"Uh... morning."  I replied curtly, hoping that he
would take the hint.  He really was a nice guy, but if
I didn't shoot off soon I was going to die from blue
balls, especially after getting this close.

"How's the water?"  He continued, starting the shower
next to mine.  A burst of cold water from my shower
made me jump and curse, then the hot water resumed.
"Sorry, man... the pipes in these buildings are old.
Next time I'll remember to warn the other guy."  I
heard the rustle as he disrobed, and stared down at
the angry-looking cock in my hand, glaring up at me.
What have I done to deserve this?, I thought to
myself.  Maybe I could cum while he was showering; I
wondered how much he could hear with the water
running.  I had to be quiet, though; so much for the
full release I was counting on.

As Scott started humming to himself, splashing away
merrily right next to me, I had to go for it.  Only
three more quick strokes, and my orgasm took over.  My
cock jetted a long stream of cum out to splat audibly
against the grey stone wall; it was all I could do to
keep from moaning out loud.  I kept as quiet as I
could and fought to control my breathing while my load
pulsed and sprayed out of my cock, all over my chest
and the shower stall wall.  As the last dribbles of
cum oozed from my piss slit, Scott yelled out "Hey,
you want to grab some breakfast over at the Caf?  I
can show you frat row while we're out, since it's
right there, and give you a quick directional guide...
I know the campus can be confusing.  Man, I was lost
for the first three weeks I was here!"  In the five
years I had been jerking off, I had felt all sorts of
things... disgust, shame, pride, pleasure, sleepiness.
 This was the first time I ever remembered feeling
pissed off.  I really hoped this wasn't going to be
what college was like.