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