Date: Mon, 21 Feb 2005 10:54:54 -0500
From: edcwriter@yahoo.com
Subject: THE PRIEST & THE PAUPER - 7

THE PRIEST & THE PAUPER - 7

Copyright 2005 by Carl Mason and Ed Collins

All rights reserved.  Other than downloading one copy for strictly personal
enjoyment, no part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted in any
form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, except for reviews, without
the written permission of the authors.  However based on real events and
places, "The Priest and the Pauper" is strictly fictional.  Any resemblance
to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely
coincidental.  As in real life, however, the sexual themes unfold
gradually.  If you would like to read other Mason-Collins stories, you
might turn to "Out of the Rubble" and "Castle Margarethen," both of which
are archived in Nifty's "Historical" section.  Comments on the story are
appreciated and may be addressed to the authors at edcwriter@yahoo.com

This story contains descriptions of sexual contact between males, both
adults and teenagers.  As such, it is homoerotic fiction designed for the
personal enjoyment of legal, hopefully mature, adults.  If you are not of
legal age to read such material, if those in power and/or those whom you
trust treat it as illegal, or if it would create unresolvable moral
dilemmas in your life, please leave.  Finally, remember that maturity
generally demands that anything other than safe sex is sheer insanity!


CHAPTER 7

(Revisiting Chapter 6)

"When the Department has decided if it wants to sponsor a PAL Chapter
[Fr. Tom continued], just let me know and tell me how I can help."

"You've already made my day, Father," the Captain responded warmly.  "I
think you can expect to hear from me in the near future.  Oh, by the way,"
he asked, "are you ready to take another homeless gang off the streets?"
Fr. Tom laughed hysterically as he made ready to leave.  "Oh, Father, the
Captain continued, "send Shane around, will you?  Andy introduced him to me
briefly after Mass on Sunday, but I'd like to shake his hand and invite him
over to dinner."  Fr.  Tom nodded and grinned as he departed.

(Continuing Our Story - Brother John)

"There's one more piece of chicken-fried steak on this platter, Brother,
and I think it has your name on it," Father Tom announced.  "Great!"
exclaimed the brown-robed Brother.  "Never let it be said that I failed to
do my duty at the dinner table.  Thank God I never had to take a vow to
abstain from good food, especially food of the quality Mrs. Murphy turns
out!"  The overhead light at the table glinted on Brother John's closely
cropped strawberry-blond hair as he reached out a huge paw to accept the
platter.  "Ah, beautiful," he murmured as he speared the steak and scooped
extra potatoes and green beans onto his plate.  In the background,
Mrs. Murphy laughed softly in delight.  Another good Irish lad who knew
good cooking when he tasted it!

Laughing, Fr. Tom asked, "Have you heard the latest rumor going around?"
Seeing John's eyebrows arch in response, he began to chuckle.  "You are
supposed to have played guard for the New York Giants!" he reported.
Swallowing quickly, Brother responded, "Well, that's not all that far from
the truth, Father.  I did try out for the Bears, but as a linebacker!  I'm
too fast to be a guard, as my students have discovered from time to time."
St. Pat's young pastor collapsed into laughter. "A shattered fibula and my
fiancee's leaving me for greener pastures kinda ended that stage of my
life," he added. Shifting ground, Father asked, "How's your room?. "Great!
The steak melts in your mouth," he murmured, looking over at Mrs. Murphy
appreciatively.  "How's Sister Paul treating you?" Fr. Tom persisted.
"Well, she's one tough lady, but she loves those kids and she's fully
prepared to disembowel anyone who messes with them or gives them less than
their best," came the immediate answer.  ("Score one for Brother John,"
Father thought.  "Only the rare ones see through Sister Superior all that
quickly.") "What do you think of the 'Gang'?" the inquiry continued.
"Well, Father, I know that helping them to get back on track academically
is one of the big parts of my responsibility, but Sister Paul hasn't let me
off the leash long enough to really get to know them.  The only boy that
I've talked to at any length is Shane McGuire...you know, the redheaded
one...obviously the leader of the pack...and one smart cookie.  He and I
share an appreciation of the exercise room," he added half-apologetically.

Over coffee...with a drop of the good stuff...Brother John told his parish
superior that he had spoken earlier in the day with Captain Duff McManus,
the local Chief of Police.  "Well, hey, Little John (The Brother's eyes
twinkled with merriment at the literary reference.  Clearly he was no
clod!), it's your decision.  It'll only complicate your life, though I
think a successful program might save countless kids in this town.  And you
did have a lot of youth work in Bridgeport," Father added.  "Oh,
yeah...Bridgeport," the big guy muttered.  "The beautiful suburban life of
all those New York City executives in their mansions up towards the Merritt
Parkway is crashing down around their ears, and they don't see a thing.
Man, all those beautiful liberal, humane words...  Crap!  What they really
meant was, 'Screw those poor kids pouring out of the City!'"  Sitting up
straight, he said in a very forthright manner, "Forgive me, Father.  In the
last analysis, I destroyed whatever good I did in Bridgeport.  Forgetting
that you never tell a donkey that it has long ears, I finally told the
bastards EXACTLY what they were doing...and what they had in their hearts.
Naturally, the rich always have a lot of ways to get back at you.  They
destroyed what I had accomplished for the kids and had me withdrawn.  I
don't intend to make THAT mistake again."  "It's over, Little John," Father
murmured.  "You're here among friends.  And Captain McManus?"  "Though he
made it clear that I could return to full-time work here once things were
off the ground, he offered me the part-time job of Executive Director of
the new Sherburne Chapter of PAL.  I told him that I was interested, but
that I couldn't say anything definitive until I had spoken with you.  Also,
I wanted to request permission to ask Shane to be my student assistant."
"You have my permission on both counts, Brother.  All that I ask is that
you keep me posted - and that you keep Sister Superior happy."  Accepting a
third cup of coffee from Mrs. Murphy, Little John reached for the bottle
and moaned, "Thanks...thanks a whole lot, Father!"

The PAL program did get off the ground, although it just about killed
Brother John in the process.  He never cut back his work in the parochial
school, for instance, and he worked with the Gang at every opportunity.  In
any case, within a relatively short time, there was a Board of Directors
(including the Rev. Mr. John Wilson, Rector of Holy Trinity Church - and
even one of the mill directors); there was a sizable list of volunteers for
both sports and artistic activities from the Police Department, the
churches, and the schools; access to school and church facilities had been
negotiated; and, for a depressed area, a sizeable amount of money had been
collected.  Every significant cultural institution in the area, including
the churches and the Eastern Connecticut Times, had strongly supported the
effort.

Were there tensions as the program got under way?  Yes.  Tensions between
public and parochial school students are legendary - and, as we know,
adolescent emotions are scarcely under perfect control.  Since the days of
the great French Canadian and Irish immigrations, tensions between Roman
Catholics and the much smaller Anglican, Orthodox, and Protestant churches
of the southern New England mill towns were no less legendary.  In short,
at first, suspicion and resistance were the rule.  The first time the Gang
showed up to play some basketball at one of the junior high schools, for
instance, the public school kids walked off the court.  To give a second
example, the first time that some craft activities were planned in St.
Pat's Church Hall, Mr. Rafferty "accidentally" locked every door.  What
finally turned the tide was that so many in the area had been affected by
the escalating, depression-fueled crime rate, especially (but not
exclusively) among juveniles.  The problem had been building for a long
time, and the area residents had finally had enough of it...at least until
the problems had lessened and their memories faded.

Were there good moments, even in the early days?  Of course.  Shane
especially remembered one late afternoon and evening at the very end of
January.  Like most members of the Gang, he not only enjoyed some of the
PAL activities, he also occasionally volunteered a few hours himself.  In
this case, he and Mel were supervising a "bodybuilding" class (as it was
called, chiefly for young-male-appeal) in the Youth Center's exercise room.
A dozen sixth and seventh graders drawn from across the town, including two
twelve year-old homeless kids, were happily grunting and groaning away.
Three craft classes were underway next door in the Church Hall under the
supervision of an adult volunteer with three assistants.  During one break,
Shane stuck his nose into the Hall and, on being waved over by the
volunteer, trotted over to meet him.  When he protested that he was "pretty
sweaty," the volunteer told him to forget it, and shook hands.  "You look
ok to me, Big Red," he said jovially, looking at the handsome, muscular lad
clad in his uniform of blue shorts, a white PAL T-shirt, and white gym
socks.  "Want to see what we're doing?"  In response to a big grin, he
showed him the really beautiful linoleum mosaics that were being created by
his kids.  "Wow," Shane exclaimed, "that bear is fantastic - and the
Odysseus mosaic is unbelievable!"  "Yes," they are doing some nice work -
and, above all, they are getting to know each other.  Sit with me for just
a moment and tell me what you're about."  Shane discovered that he was
talking to Dr. William Saunders, a volunteer from Holy Trinity Church and
an Associate Professor of English at UConn.  His family had always lived in
Sherburne and he preferred live in his hometown and make the relatively
short commute to Storrs.  "Dr. Bill," as he preferred to be called - a 33
year old, good-looking academic - was no less impressed by the intelligent
young teen, especially when he found out that not all that long before, he
had been living on the streets.  Soon, of course, they both had to get back
to work.

At the close of the session, Dr. Bill wandered back into the Exercise Room
where Shane was finishing up by demonstrating some exercises to his adoring
crew that were designed to build their chests.  Inasmuch as the redhead had
doffed his T-shirt, Dr. Bill couldn't help but be impressed by the lad's
spectacular torso.  As the youngsters departed, the professor again said
hello.  Further, he noted that he was going to stop downtown to get a slice
of pizza at Tony's for supper.  "Interested?" he asked the two volunteers.
To his absolute dismay, Mel had a remedial arithmetic session right after
supper, but Shane (who was drooling at the thought of pizza) said that if
Dr. Bill didn't mind waiting, he would quickly take a shower and ask
permission to join him.

When he had showered, dressed (in his nice slacks, white shirt, and heavy
Christmas sweater), and returned to the Hall, Shane found Brother John and
Dr. Bill talking.  "You be good," Brother John growled humorously at the
redhead - "and enjoy your pizza!"  "Yeah!" Shane breathed joyfully to
himself as they left St. Pat's.  As one might guess, Shane much preferred
his supper to the meatloaf that was on the Gang's menu - and, even more,
gloried in the attention of the well-dressed, educated man who was his
host.  The attraction was mutual.  Before an entire pizza, sans anchovies,
had been demolished, Shane had tentatively accepted an invitation to go
fishing down at the shore.  (He had never been fishing, of course, but
Dr. Bill's description fascinated him, as did the chance to get closer to
someone who barely seemed part of his world...and who obviously liked him.)

(The Great Valentine's Dance)

Sister Superior was a woman of her word - and she had a memory like that of
an elephant!  As she turned the February page of her calendar, she noted
that Valentine's Day was coming up on Saturday, the fourteenth.  "Perfect!"
she thought and hurried off to her late afternoon faculty meeting.

Quietly, she reminded her colleagues that they DID have obligations to the
social education of their charges.  While Valentine's Day often appealed to
the "lower instincts" of teenagers, it still gave them an excellent
opportunity to teach them how to dance and "chastely" interact with the
opposite sex.  With obedient smiles - and no little excitement, especially
among the younger nuns - the Sisters agreed with their superior.  "Very
well," she continued, "I shall check with Sister Denis at Ste-Anne's. Given
all that Fr. Burke has been saying about "openness," I shall also speak
with one of my own sisters, Gertie, who teaches at Nathan Hale Junior High
School.  Between us, I think we can ensure a good mix of early adolescents,
plus a few ninth grade girls for the older boys over in the Youth
Center. Your job," she mentioned with just a trace of a smirk, "is to teach
our dear seventh and eighth boys how to dance!  Brother John will fulfill a
similar function with...the 'Gang'."  Brother John shook his head wearily,
lifted a heavy foot that had gone to sleep, and wondered if his monsters
would prefer to fox trot or waltz with him.

For the next two weeks, seventh and eighth grade classes were canceled on a
rotating basis and given over to daily dance instruction.  The classes were
conducted with almost military precision in the School, but the same could
not be said about instruction in the Youth Center.  In fact, on the first
Wednesday, there was almost a revolt up on the stage where the crew, clad
in shorts, T-shirts, and socks, had gathered.  "Listen, you apes," Brother
John finally growled, "you're going to learn to dance, and that's the END
of it!  If I can do it, you can do it!"  (Brandon almost spat out, "Yeah,
but you can't do it," but he quickly thought better of it.  Brother was
awfully big - and he was clearly PISSED!)  "Just remember that on next
Saturday night, you're going to have a beautiful, sexy woman in your arms -
not me!  Now come on, let's get this step right - or I'm going to start
knocking some heads together!  Turn that platter over and play it!"  he
commanded.  Mel grinned slightly to himself, deciding that holding a
"beautiful, sexy woman in his arms" wasn't the worst idea in the world.
Grumbling audibly for the benefit of his peers, he walked over to the
ancient Victrola, flipped the platter, lifted the arm, and set the stylus
in place.

By 2:30 p.m. on Valentine's Day, Tim, Keanu, and the rest of the joint
School-Gang "Social Committee" had attractively decorated the Hall.  Small
groupings of chairs had been placed around the perimeter of the room and
refreshment tables had been set up over by the kitchen.  The grumbling with
which the Gang had entered upon dance preparations was a thing of the past.
They could dance - more or less, and they were abuzz with the news that
there'd be a live band, and that "older women" had been invited from Nathan
Hale.  As soon as supper was out of the way, the lads disappeared into the
Youth Center.  Their God-given mission lay in preparing their bodies to be
irresistible to the females who would soon be demanding their attention.
Suddenly, Brother John poked his head into the hallway and shouted, "Get
everything you need, animals, because the Center door's going to be locked
for the duration of the dance!  "Ah, shit! Chad muttered.  Any other
comments were thankfully drowned out by the band's beginning to warm up on
the stage.  In all honesty, a nice looking bunch of kids eventually emerged
from the Center.  As seventh and eighth graders from the School found their
way downstairs, they saw many guys whom they knew and liked.  There was
quite a stir when a large contingent of girls arrived from Ste-Anne's -
properly chaperoned by their teachers, of course.  The girls were
greeted...chastely by a band of well-trained boys.  (Sister Superior and
Brother John waited grimly in the wings had they faltered!)  At this point,
the band began to strike up some popular tunes and the first brave few
ventured over to the giggling girls and, thence, bashfully out onto the
floor.  Only the Gang waited nervously.  Where in hell were those women
from Nathan Hale?

About ten young ladies did arrive shortly - in a tight gaggle and, as one
Sister put it, not dressed all that modestly.  (Had Gertie, their lone
chaperone and Sister Paul's sister, not been there, the comments might have
been more...pointed [even serrated?].)  Controlling their panting, the Gang
rushed over to them, as quickly as they dared under the eagle eye of
Brother John.  Tragedy struck!  Other than Mel, whom several girls eyed
with some degree of interest, the proud, fully prepared and polished men of
the Gang were eyed as if they were poison!  I MEAN...AFTER ALL...IF HE
ISN'T IN HIGH SCHOOL...REALLY!  Quickly bringing themselves back under
control, the young men showed the girls over to the refreshment table and
showered them with the finest delicacies and mature conversation.  Nothing
worked, nothing at all - until a group of more "advanced" seventh and
eighth grade girls spotted the older boys.  As their phalanx approached,
the boys' plight suddenly took a turn for the better.  Quickly, albeit with
utterly feminine grace, the ninth graders positioned themselves between the
males and the approaching horde.  When a few continued to advance, they
were met by a united front of sneers and snarls...ladylike sneers and
snarls, of course.  As the raiding party hesitated, each women staked out
that member of the Gang whom she found least objectionable and accepted his
offer to dance.  (Actually, by that time none of the boys was really up to
chancing another scornful refusal, but the girls slid smoothly into their
arms anyway and delicately worked them out onto the dance floor.)  Only
poor little Paddy - actually not so little anymore, for he had been growing
- was left on the sidelines.  Needless to say, he was quickly snapped up by
the most mature member of the phalanx!  Sporting a slightly goofy grin, he
was soon dancing with all the rest.

The colorful Hall was filled with whirling kids having the time of their
lives.  The Sisters of St.  Patrick's and Ste-Anne's sat together, enjoying
the company.  Fr. Tom and Little John sat in another alcove, swapping
hilarious stories of all it had taken to get the Gang whipped into shape.
Accepting cups of punch provided by boys who had been assigned the task,
they furtively augmented them...until Sister Superior cast a questioning
glance in their direction.  (Then, like the most callow teens, they cooled
it...fast!)  Every now and then, one of the nuns would sweep gracefully out
onto the floor and "suggest" that a couple might dance a little further
apart.  Though they referred to them as the "GGs" (Gestapo Guards), the
teens obeyed - other than the "women" from Nathan Hall.  Mel, Brandon, and
most of the others were in sheer bliss as their watchful "dates" scanned
the "Nuns' Corner" and found moments to strike.  Then, always accidentally,
they might feel a sweater-covered breast...oh, so briefly...touch their
chests - or a dainty finger might reach up and press admiringly against
their biceps.  Oh, God!  Of such moments is Heaven made!  The boys found
that if they watched the Nuns' Corner carefully enough, they might even
have time to attempt a little feel - though their companions always seemed
to teasingly resist.  Oh, God!  Such fodder for endless boasting - and
provocation for carefully concealed activity under cover of night!
(Mrs. Murphy's crew complained bitterly for a week about the "unbelievable"
number of sheets and towels they had to wash - and most of them
were..."nasty"!  After she had almost forced the third piece of a
particularly succulent chicken pot pie on him, Brother John promised
Mrs. Murphy - and a leering Fr. Tom - that he would speak with them...about
boy things.)

Shane and Tim did their duty, though they complained to each other
throughout most of the evening.  "If another girl pokes her boob into me,
I'll damned well poke her," Shane vowed after one particularly "active"
dance.  "You wouldn't!" Tim gasped.  "No, I wouldn't," the redhead had to
agree, rolling his eyes up towards the ceiling in disgust.  "What do people
see in women anyway?" Tim bitched on another occasion.  "Damned if I know!"
his friend responded.  Underneath their adolescent complaints, of course,
lay a deepening frustration.  Tim was just generally
frustrated...physically and psychologically.  Shane on the other hand felt
his balls begin to ache in his longing to be out on the floor dancing with
Fr. Tom.  "This is so fuckin' unfair," he moaned to himself.  Tomorrow, he
would damned well ask Fr. Tom if it were ok for him to contact Dave and
accept his New Year's Eve invitation to go over to Storrs.

(Hold that Tiger!)

Surprisingly, Fr. Tom was curiously resistant to his going over to Storrs.
In actuality, the young priest had stopped by the table occupied by Dave
and his friends during the New Year's Eve party, and he had later noticed
Shane sitting with them.  His intuition told him that something was
slightly "off," but how can you explain that to a 15 year-old?  He did his
best.  Shane could contact Dave and accept his invitation, but he could go
only if another member of the Gang joined him.  The redhead took what he
could get - and hurried off to speak with Tim.  Needless to say, his lanky
Valentine's Dance confidant was overjoyed.

Sure!  Dave was delighted that the redhead had accepted his invitation.
Tim was a friend...and "understood?" No problem!  Bring him along!

The boys couldn't wait until the next Saturday.  Lessons, chores, PAL
commitments all seemed to take twice as long to complete.  Even life in the
dorm was frustrating!  Nevertheless, Saturday did come - and the boys found
themselves on a bus heading for the State University.  If anything, Tim was
even more on high than the redhead and couldn't shut up during the entire
trip.  His story wasn't all that unfamiliar.  One of seven siblings, he
came from Norwich, a large, depressed industrial city between Sherburne and
the sea.  His father and his mother were neither rich nor knowledgeable.
(In fact his father was out of work more often than not.)  When his
penchant for shoplifting could no longer be concealed, they agreed -
perhaps with just a trace of relief - for him to be sent to a "Home for
Wayward Boys."  At least he would get the "help" he needed there!  In his
early teenaged years, he confided to his best friend that he thought he was
gay.  The "friend" turned on him immediately.  "No fuckin' queer could be a
friend of his!"  When the older boys turned his life into a hell - and the
supervisory staff refused to lift a finger to protect him - he finally
escaped...onto the streets.  The rest of his sad story is all too familiar,
yes?  When he got the basic story, Fr. Tom checked with the Norwich police
and a priest whom he knew, but the family had evidently left the area and
no trace was ever found.  But for the grace of God - and a redhead who
invited him to be his personal guest at Thanksgiving dinner - his life
could only have continued on its downward spiral.  Noticing the tears that
filled his friend's eyes, Shane roughly threw his arm around Tim's
shoulders and said, "Let it go, boyo.  You've got a family now...and we
love you."

Arriving at the Storrs bus station almost before they realized it, they
were welcomed enthusiastically by Dave and several of his friends - Barry
and Ryan (whom Shane had met at the New Year's Eve party) and Pete, a
slight, shy freshman.  Immediately swept up into a whirlwind of activity,
they quickly found themselves at the dorm where they picked up box lunches
and were then hustled off to a home basketball game between UConn and the
BC (Boston College) Eagles.  Even more than Shane, were that possible, Tim
was aglow with excitement.  In the first place, the chemistry between the
freshman and him was immediate - and powerful.  In the second, as long as
he could remember he had been a diehard BC fan!  (He couldn't remember why;
he just was!)  The redhead tried his damnedest, but there was no shutting
him up.  Sitting in the middle of the UConn student rooting section became
an experience as Tim variously howled, flapped his arms (with the best of
the Eagle fans), jumped up and down, and screamed...for BC.  Fortunately,
UConn took the lead early and maintained it.  Thus, the UConn students
found it easier to laugh hysterically at his antics than to throw things at
him!

After the game, Barry and Ryan had things to do, and Pete insisted on
showing Tim his room in another dorm.  Dave guided Shane back to his room
where they collapsed and, over a couple of (illegal) beers, laughingly
recounted the high points of the game.  After a bit, Dave came over to the
bed where Shane was sprawled, sat down, and quietly put his hand on the
redhead's heavy thigh. Slowly, his fingers dug into the thick muscle.  "We
don't have to, you know," he murmured.  The sex-starved youngster didn't
have to be asked twice.  Breathlessly, he raised his torso and ground his
lips against his host's, his tongue hungrily seeking more.  "Whoa, Big
Red!" Dave breathed.  "I want to do something that I couldn't do at that
party.  Ok?"  "Yeah," Shane managed to gasp.  Slowly, sensually, Dave
unbuttoned and removed the redhead's shirt.  As his fingertips began to
caress the boy's heavy shoulders and neck, he reached down and tongued his
nipple.  Shane just about jumped off the bed.  "Ok, Big Guy?"  "Oh yeah,"
Shane choked.  Actually, he felt a little strange, for he was the one
normally in control, but this was so damned hot!  As he began to raise his
torso, Dave pushed him back against the bed.  "Just relax. Let me see
you...let me feel you...let me love you," he murmured hypnotically.

Shane tried to relax, but he was a nanosecond away from cumming.  As Dave's
fingers continued to explore his magnificent torso - his pecs, his abs, his
recessed navel - the redhead fought to control himself.  He almost lost it
again as Dave reached down and kissed him deeply.  Then, ever so slowly,
the collegian's fingers went to Shane's belt buckle, somehow got it open,
and unzipped his slacks.  "Lift up," he commanded.  His will to be
assertive melting in the fire, the compliant youngster felt his slacks and
undershorts eased over his butt and cock and pulled down over his legs
until they, and his socks, were slowly stripped from his body.  Dave looked
down on him, his eyes wide with lust.  "You are so fuckin' beautiful, Shane
- everything that I've been dreaming about since New Year's," he murmured.
With that, his tongue began to explore the boy's body in ways that the lad
never...ever knew existed.  His toes, his calves, his thick thigh muscles
burst into flames...one after another.  Suddenly, the boy felt his balls
being inhaled into a furnace and then teeth nibbling lightly on his long,
smooth scrotum.  As Shane almost sobbed in passion, Dave raised his legs
and commanded him to hold them up and apart.  "I'm clean down there," the
youth babbled innocently.  "Shush!" his host barked before tonguing the
redhead's perineum and anus.  Helping the now dazed lad to return his legs
to the bed, Dave turned his attention to the absolute pillar that rose
before him - bright red, every tendon and vein obscenely distended, leaking
copious amounts of precum, so hard that the tightly stretched skin gleamed
in the late afternoon sun.  Experienced, his tongue played with the most
sensitive parts of the lad's penis before his mouth slowly descended over
it and guided it deep into his throat.  Every muscle of Shane body was as
taut as if cast in bronze.  He couldn't breathe as the muscles of Dave's
throat manipulated his phallus.  Suddenly...never having felt such
passion...he exploded with a wild cry of release.

For several minutes, the young men lay breathless, Dave's body collapsed
down onto Shane's.  Finally, the lad nibbled on his host's lips, and
moaned, "Please, Dave, please, take me."  "You want me, Big Red?" the
collegian laughed.  "Dave!  Don't kid around.  Please...I'm yours.  Take
me!"  Working as if they were an experienced team, the redhead pulled his
legs back and wide, holding them under his knees.  Dave immediately began
to lube his anus.  As he began the 1-2- 3 finger prelude, however. Shane
shook his head impatiently.  "Just a little lube, Dave.  I'm ready."  "Hey,
look who's giving orders," Dave murmured.  Shane might have argued, but he
needed it bad.  Swallowing convulsively, the sweat pouring from his body,
he simply gasped, "Please, Dave."  Sensing that a little extra tension had
crept into the air, the collegian bent down, kissed the kid, and ran his
hands along the sides of his torso. "God," he thought, "what a build!" Then
he plunged into the boy, bottoming out on his first try.  Every skill known
to a thoroughly experienced sexual artist was employed as he fucked the
redhead long and as hard as he had ever been fucked.  Climaxing almost
simultaneously, they held onto each other as if life itself depended on it.
Slowly descending from the mountain to the accompaniment of soft kisses and
whispers of endearment, two men shared a single thought: "Man, oh man, what
a ride!"

After they had recovered their senses and cleaned up, the two young men
went down to the dining room where they enjoyed a good supper with Barry,
Ryan and another member of the group whom Shane hadn't met, Kerry.  No
sooner had everyone crowded into Dave's room than Tim and Pete arrived.
Something was...different.  Tim stood in back of Pete, his arms around the
freshman's chest...possessively?  "Hi, Pete!" Shane exclaimed.  Tim's
response was near instantaneous: "Hey, guys, this only looks like Pete.
His real name is "TIGER!"  To the accompaniment of loud cheers,
raspberries, and applause, Pete...oops! Tiger...simply blushed and melted
slightly back into Tim.  "Hey, Shane," Tim gasped proudly, "we've got to
invite these guys over to Sherburne!"  "Hell, man, what's to do in
Sherburne?" the redheaded one responded.  Dave interjected a sharp rebuke.
"Shane!  Everyone in this room is more than just 'gay', and gay guys do one
hell of a lot more than fuck!  Let's not stereotype ourselves."  Hanging
his head for just a moment, Shane raised his chin, smiled, and agreed that
their new friends HAD to come to Sherburne - and as soon as schedules could
be cleared!

On the way back, Tim was absolutely HOPELESS!  He couldn't get his long
legs arranged; he couldn't sit still; he couldn't stop giggling.  Oh, sure,
he'd go quiet for a few minutes, but then the giggles would return and he
would bang his head against the back of the seat in sheer exultation!
Shane was considerably more thoughtful.  Oh, yeah, their welcome had been
fantastic and the sex had been...unbelievable.  For perhaps the first time
in his life, he had experienced a certain mutuality in gay sex that brought
tears to his eyes...and a stiffness back to his heavy cock.  But was there
enough "mutuality"?  Dave could be pretty damned domineering - but the
collegian clearly liked him, didn't he?  In time, things would work out.
At that point, Tim started tunelessly humming the "Tiger Rag."  Big Red
could take no more!  Sharply elbowing his chum in the ribs, he stared into
his pained eyes and growled, "Hold that ti-ger!"  Before collapsing into
giggles, both boys took up the chant, "HOLD THAT TI-GER!  HOLD THAT TI-GER!
OH, YEAH!  HOLD THAT TI-GER!"


(To Be Continued)