December, 1979 (oh, What A Drive)

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This story is fictional, though there are a few elements of truth in it. Some might have a hard time believing that Kevin could be as naive as he is, but that part I know is true--in that aspect, he is based on me. It's not typical of the stories here--it's not designed to keep you aroused.


Chapter One

On the Thursday morning of final exam week, Kevin Crosby felt confident as he placed his blue book exam on the professor's desk, and with that move, his first semester of college was finished. It felt good knowing that in the classroom that semester, he'd been a great success, and he was completely confident that he'd earned a 4.0 GPA.

Coming into college he'd worried about how he'd do, even though he had been the top student in his high school class of 36 students. He wasn't sure if being the top student in a small, farming community was any indication that he'd get good grades in college. But to his satisfaction, his grades had been great and his instructors had showered him with compliments on his writing and insight during class discussion. Going to a big school like State University had felt like a bit of a risk, but he knew he'd already succeeded in the small pond that was his high school. He didn't need to succeed in another small pond; it was time to succeed in a big one. And he was doing just that.

Kevin didn't spend too much time dwelling on his academic success, for what was most important to him right now was taking a shower and putting on clean clothes. In August when he moved into Miller Hall, the oldest all-male high rise dorm on campus, he almost immediately heard about its "Don't Shower Till It's Over" tradition during every Final Exam week, and the idea had scared him--not because he was worried about going from Sunday night until his last final without a shower and without changing clothes, but because of the other traditions associated with the week. To kick things off, on Sunday night before final exam week every participant was to walk completely naked to the showers at 8:00 p.m., all exiting their rooms simultaneously when a bell was rung for a parade to the showers. And while being naked with a bunch of guys made had made him pretty nervous, he'd figured he could handle it, especially if everyone was. What had completely freaked him out was that there there would be spectators at the parade--women form the comparable floor in the adjacent women's high rise. The fact that everyone was to preserve his anonymity by wearing wear a ski mask or something similar did little to relieve his fears.

But those worries were in August, and this was December. He'd learned a lot about his body since then--and his body had changed, too. Now, he was on his way to do the last part of the ritual--strut buck naked from his room to the shower, after which he could report to the floor coordinator that he'd fully participated. He wasn't worried a bit and, truth be told, he was actually hoping he'd be seen by someone.

As he walked back to the dorm, Kevin reflected more on the semester. He'd never told this to anyone, but he'd chosen to live in Miller because he'd read that it had private showers, not the gang ones that had made him feel so uncomfortable in high school and that had probably kept him from participating in sports. A late bloomer, he had hated showering after his gym class in 9th grade (thank God it was only one semester, and the only required gym class of high school) when it seemed everyone else had pubic hair and a penis much bigger than his. For the three and a half years that followed his last gym class shower, he'd not only never been naked in front of anyone, but he'd also always used the stalls to pee to make sure that no one could see his cock. So when he heard about his dorm's "Don't Shower Till It's Over" competition and the traditions associated with it, he gave thought to trying to move to a different dorm or even quitting school. Of course, participation was optional, but the idea of being perceived as a coward didn't appeal much to him either. Fortunately, he'd heard that it was permissible to try to cover up what he could with a hand, so that had calmed him down. Now, feeling completely satisfied with his life as a resident of Miller, he was glad he’d not let fear drive him into making any drastic moves during the first several days of the semester.

This past Sunday when the moment of the group parade to the shower finally arrived, he hadn't been too stressed. The females would be in the TV lounge and could only see the guys briefly as they walked past the open door, and he found out they weren't really "parading," more "herding" as they walked down the hallway and past the TV lounge door--maybe he'd get lost in the crowd. And he knew he'd be wearing a mask, so no one would be able to match his body to his face.

And while all those things had given him some security, the main reason he felt secure doing it was that he knew that his dick was probably bigger than anyone else's on the floor. Figuring out that he had a big dick had probably been the best discovery of his first semester--it certainly was his biggest surprise.
 
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The brochure describing Miller was right about the showers; they were in fact private. However, it had not explained that the drying area was communal. Consequently, for the first few weeks of the semester, he'd taken showers at night when usually no one else was showering, and he’d pulled his towel into the shower stall and dried off in there before getting dressed--also in there. He'd only seen two other guys in the drying area during those weeks, both from behind.

But about three weeks into the semester, when he was taking his bedtime shower, his new buddies had run off with his towel and clothes. When he reached out to grab his towel, he'd panicked when he could find neither his towel nor his clothes. Afraid to come out, he'd stood in the shower worrying about what to do for what seemed like hours--but was really only about 20 minutes. His buddies brought his stuff back, but they forced him to come out of the stall to get it.

"It's time to be a man and get over your little boy shyness" was the comment that had finally coaxed him out. He knew they were right.

The comments when he finally stepped out were quite different and unexpected.

"How come you've been hiding that thing?"

"Holy fuck!"

"Shit dude, I figured you were hiding all the time 'cause you're little--but I guess you were being kind 'cause you didn't want to intimidate the fuck out of the rest of us."

He hadn't known what to do or say, but after a few minutes of awkwardness it felt cool. Really cool. And over the next several weeks, while he hadn't actively tried to flaunt his cock, he'd changed his habits. He started taking showers in the morning with everyone else and drying off in the public area, which had enabled him to see a lot of dicks--he'd probably seen 30 of the 40 guys on the floor naked--and all their dicks were smaller than his own. A few guys had even commented ("Shit, and I thought mine was big!"), and he'd ended up with the nickname "torpedo." What a revelation that was, from thinking he was small to realizing his was huge. Torpedo. He liked it.

Kevin knew that insecurity about his dick wasn't the only reason he'd felt shy about his body in August. His whole life he'd been way too thin--he probably should say "skinny," but he'd always hated the word. He felt embarrassed by his total lack of muscle--in August he had no pecs, just nipples over ribs. However, his adviser had insisted that he sign up for a phys ed class this semester to get the PE requirement out of the way, and he still couldn't believe he'd had the nerve to sign up for weight training. But he was so glad he did, for his body had responded in incredible ways. Exploded. When people joked about the "freshman 15," they usually meant fat, but he'd gained his freshman 15, all solid muscle, by October. He hadn't weighed since November, but figured he'd put on at least 25 pounds of muscle this semester. Where before there had been nipples on ribs, now he had well-defined pecs, whether he was bare chested or wearing shirts. He'd always felt embarrassed that his nipples stuck out so far, but he knew now that they looked great on top of his muscles as they pushed out against the inside of his shirts. Kevin had started the semester wearing loose-fitting medium shirts, but now the buttons on those strained and he'd even popped a few. The seams on his shirts that had hit at the shoulder bend in August were now at least an inch and a half above that spot, so he figured his shoulders were at least three inches wider. His biceps were at least an inch bigger, too, and they really popped.

Kevin loved feeling his new muscles; it had been difficult to remember not to keep feeling them in public, but when he was alone studying his hands were always feeling something he'd never felt before. It was so satisfying. In the fall when he and his buddies had thrown Frisbees on the quad, he'd been the only one with a shirt on. He couldn't wait till spring so he could feel comfortable being shirtless. Even the teacher had told him that he'd never seen anyone increase lifts and size so much during the semester, and he'd thanked Kevin for having been given the chance to train him. The teacher had also suggested that Kevin join the gym off campus where he trained people for body building competitions. That conversation had seemed like a dream. In high school, he'd bought a bodybuilding magazine that he'd looked at secretly, fantasizing about what it'd be like to look like that instead of the way he did. Now, maybe it would come true.

So as he approached the dorm, he knew he was ready to be on display, though he also figured it was unlikely that anyone would see him, as it was only 11:30 and women weren't supposed to be on the floor until noon. So he headed toward the weight room in the basement of the dorm to kill some time. He wasn't sure if he was doing so on the assumption that he was more likely to be seen when he made his naked strut if he showered after noon whether it was just the fact that he had to kill time before he was supposed to pick up Diane, or maybe it was simply the desire to work out some of the stress of finals.

His attire for the week had been sweat pants, tee-shirt, and sweatshirt, so he just stripped off the sweatshirt and started exercising on the lousy equipment. There wasn't much he could do in the dorm weight room, but he quickly did 70 pull-ups (exactly 70 more than he could do in August), then alternated between bench and shoulder press before finishing up with a ton of bicep curls. After about 20 minutes of intense exercise he could feel the pump, and as he pressed his fingers into the crevice in his chest and then felt his arms so he could feel his biceps jump, he knew exactly why he'd headed to the weight room--Diane. He wanted to look his best when he picked her up for the drive home.

Kevin and Diane had known each other since third grade when they'd competed in the county science fair--he'd taken first, she second. She'd gone to school in the town that was next to his, and they'd competed at county competitions through elementary school (not just science fairs, but also social studies fairs and spelling bees) and talked at football and basketball games and music competitions. They weren't exactly friends, but they were friendly, and he liked that he, the nerd, got to talk to a cute girl in front of his classmates.

Despite thinking Diane was cute, he'd never been interested in her, but that was in part because he hadn't been interested in anyone. That wasn't true either--what is true is that in high school he had not had enough confidence in his desirability to dare to be interested in anyone. Skinny, a nerd, and non-athletic, he also didn't like hunting, fishing, or country music--these weren't qualities that made a kid attractive in the farming community where he'd grown up. When Kevin moved in to his dorm at State U, he was pleasantly surprised to see that Diane was in the women's high rise next door. Their friendship had deepened in the first few weeks, and he'd introduced her to his friends.
 
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Chapter Two

Kevin knew that teens sometimes did it--there'd been frequent teen pregnancies in some neighboring schools, and when he was a sophomore a senior at his school had had a baby. But almost as big of a shock as learning that his dick was big was finding out that unmarried people had sex on purpose. Looking at it now, he couldn't believe he'd been so naive in August, but it's what he had thought. Then, his view had been that when unmarried people had sex, it was because they'd gotten carried away in the heat of passion, and having sex outside of marriage was something to be ashamed of.

He and all his high school friends had been to church regularly growing up, and while they had gone to a couple of different churches, all seemed to preach the same message--sex was only for married people. He'd assumed that was everyone's viewpoint. In tenth grade, about the time most classmates (but not Kevin) were mostly through puberty, the preacher had had a class with the boys (and his wife with the girls). According to conversations at school, it was something all the preachers in town did, and the topics were pretty much the same. The classes had stressed the evils of premarital sex, extramarital sex, homosexuality, and bestiality, topics that were embarrassing enough, but they'd also spent a class session being lectured to about the sin of masturbation.

Fortunately, or so he thought at the time, he'd never really played with his dick much (though he liked how it felt when he was touching it in the shower), and so over the next few years, whenever he'd been tempted to masturbate, he'd instead quote Bible verses he'd memorized. But he was curious about his dick and about sex, and sometimes despite his best efforts to control it, his cock would get hard.

Last year when on a family trip, he entered a bookstore for the first time in his life (there were none within a 100-mile radius of his small town), and he'd hidden in the corner reading parts of a book on sex and puberty, and there he'd learned the words "orgasm" and "ejaculation"--he'd never heard them before. He didn't think that he'd ever had an ejaculation, but he had seen some clear liquid seeping out when he was hard, but he didn't think that's what was being described. As good as it felt to have that liquid, he was certain that he wasn't also having an orgasm, for he wasn't getting the "explosive tickly feeling" described in the book. He wondered what an orgasm would feel like—the book hadn’t done a good job describing it. And he wondered if he was supposed to do something to somehow trigger it, just like he triggered himself to pee.

Now, he wondered if he was the only guy on his floor who was a virgin by choice (if you can call it a choice when you've never had the option not to be a virgin)--not just that, but he'd never been kissed, had never ejaculated or had an orgasm, and had never really masturbated. He figured he was probably the only guy he knew who had never done any of these.

That first month in the dorm had opened his eyes to a whole new way of looking at things, as guys would either brag about what they'd done with their girlfriends or complain "my girlfriend isn't putting out, so I'm still having to rely on my right hand to drain the excess." He'd felt hopelessly naive and backward, yet he wasn't exactly sure he wanted to do what his floor mates were doing, as the lessons he'd had at church had been pretty internalized.

Diane was also part of his awakening. One early October afternoon his next door neighbor had left him speechless one afternoon when he said, "Thanks for introducing that Diane chick to me. Man, she can fuck. Best lay I've had in months, probably the best blowie ever. Bet she loves your torpedo." Soon, he was hearing rumors of other guys on the floor Diane had been with, and she'd ended up with a nickname, Jiffy. Some said it was because she was "easy to spread," others because she'd hop in bed with a guy just "a jiffy" after meeting him, and one had even said it was because she could get an orgasm in a jiffy.

Kevin had been bothered by the comments made about her, and he had resolved to say something to her about it on the five-hour drive home, and that plan was making him incredibly uncomfortable. His goal was to put her back on the straight and narrow, if she had ever been there, but he didn't know if she was interested or capable.

Why he wanted to be muscled up when he picked her up for the ride, he didn't know. He knew there was a part of him wanted to experience Diane the way several of the guys on the floor had, and he also wanted her to see him as a sexual being. It didn't make sense, given his desire to talk with her about her reputation and his hope that she’d be more pure. And his desire to emphasize purity with her didn't fit very well with his desire to be a bit of an exhibitionist. He knew he wasn't being consistent. He'd also thought about trying something completely different the ride home: it had occurred to him that maybe if he asked Diane, she'd give him his first kiss and some pointers about how to kiss. Maybe that’d be a smarter way to spend the 5-hour drive home instead of talking to her about the dangers of being considered "easy."

At 12:05, he finished his workout, and about five minutes later Kevin walked bare-assed naked from his room toward the shower, dropping his very dirty underwear down the trash chute--he didn't want to take them home for his mom to wash, and he didn't want them smelling up his other clothes.

Initially, he was just heading to the shower, but as he'd not seen anyone else around (or more importantly, been seen by anyone else), he decided to knock on the door of Mark, the floor coordinator for "Don't Shower Till It's Over" and report that he'd met all the requirements. More time in the hallway would increase his chance at being seen; he couldn't believe he was thinking this way, but he wanted the thrill of someone, anyone, seeing his naked and pumped body--male or female, it didn't matter. After he knocked on Mark's door, Mark had come out looking clean and wearing just a pair of boxers while sporting what looked like a partial boner (a word Kevin didn't know in August), and Kevin figured Mark's girlfriend Julie was in there with him "celebrating" the end of finals and the fact that Mark had finally showered. Once again, he was surprised at his response--four months ago, he'd have been shocked to think he'd interrupted a couple in bed. Now, he wasn't exactly comfortable, but Mark's action didn't surprise him.

"I finished my last final a little while ago and now I'm headed to the shower,” Kevin reported.

"Good on you. I was done at 9:30 and showered then. Julie came over--it was easy to sneak her in. I figure lots of guys will be reporting in this afternoon. But dude, you didn't have to be naked when you reported to me."

"Oh, sorry. I was just on my way to the shower and figured I'd tell you."

"No worries. Have a great break. Put that torpedo to use--see ya in 1980."

"You too, man. Merry Christmas."

And with that, Kevin finally headed to the shower--unfortunately, unseen by anyone but Mark.
 
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Chapter Three

After about ten minutes under the water, Kevin had dried off and was back in his room--walking completely nude except for the damp towel slung over his shoulder. He'd packed up his car the previous evening, so all he had to do was get dressed and take his bag of toiletries to the car. But when he went to put on the grey sweatpants he'd chosen for the drive home, he saw a problem--he'd packed all his underwear in the bags that were in the car. After a few minutes of hesitation, he pulled the sweat pants up over his naked cock, and immediately was struck by how big his bulge looked.

He'd never gone without underwear before, and he felt exposed--but also a bit thrilled, and so the bulge was protruding a bit more. Plus, the cloth rubbing over the end of his penis felt really good. He was sure he couldn't pick up Diane looking like that, and he sure as hell knew he couldn't show up at home showing the outline of his dick. He quickly came up with a plan--he'd go to the car without underwear, covering up somewhat with the long flannel shirt that was doubling for a jacket. He'd grab some underwear out of his suitcase, and when he went inside to use the dorm phones to call up to Diane's room, he'd change in the men's restroom he knew was on the ground floor of the women's high rise.

Kevin had told Diane that he'd pick her up at 12:30, and at precisely 12:30 he entered her dorm and called her to come down. But when he dashed over to the restroom to change, he saw that his plan wasn't going to work. It was closed--the cleaning woman was inside.

Before he had a chance to figure out what to do, Diane was down, so they headed to the car. And she looked great--blue tee-shirt and a khaki skirt that hit her just above mid-thigh. For just a moment, his eyes lingered on her boobs and wondered why exactly his floor mates called them "Diane's D-cups," but he knew it was good. Kevin was glad for his flannel shirt and the cover it provided--he figured his bulge was even more prominent, but he didn't want to look down to check it. Unfortunately, the flannel was too hot, as it was an unseasonably warm December day and his car didn't have air conditioning.

As they got to the car, Diane took off her blue a tee-shirt to reveal a black tank top that exposed a lot of cleavage, and Kevin could see her nipples. Instantly, it struck him that she wasn't wearing a bra. Just before getting into the car, Kevin took off the flannel shirt--he too had on a tank top under his flannel, a white one, and for a moment thought about the fact that he almost had cleavage and his nipples also were standing out. He dropped the flannel shirt in his lap, grabbed the sandwich Diane was handing to him (she'd picked them up from the cafeteria), and the trip home began.

They made small talk about when they'd last finished their final, how much sleep they'd hat the night before, and how eager they were to eat their moms' home cooking. Kevin wolfed his food down quickly, but Diane ate slowly. The last thing she took up was the banana, and when he looked at her out of the corner of his eye, he was surprised that she seemed to be shoving it down her throat without chewing, and when she had "swallowed" about half of it, he joked, "Careful. I don't know the Heimlich."

Diane pulled it out and apologized: "Sorry. I got lost in my own world--I always practice when I have a banana. But this works best when they're really hard."

Kevin was confused, and was about to ask, "Practice what?" when he suddenly understood what she was talking about. He was glad to have the flannel shirt on his lap.
 

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The brochure describing Miller was right about the showers; they were in fact private. However, it had not explained that the drying area was communal. Consequently, for the first few weeks of the semester, he'd taken showers at night when usually no one else was showering, and he’d pulled his towel into the shower stall and dried off in there before getting dressed--also in there. He'd only seen two other guys in the drying area during those weeks, both from behind.

But about three weeks into the semester, when he was taking his bedtime shower, his new buddies had run off with his towel and clothes. When he reached out to grab his towel, he'd panicked when he could find neither his towel nor his clothes. Afraid to come out, he'd stood in the shower worrying about what to do for what seemed like hours--but was really only about 20 minutes. His buddies brought his stuff back, but they forced him to come out of the stall to get it.

"It's time to be a man and get over your little boy shyness" was the comment that had finally coaxed him out. He knew they were right.

The comments when he finally stepped out were quite different and unexpected.

"How come you've been hiding that thing?"

"Holy fuck!"

"Shit dude, I figured you were hiding all the time 'cause you're little--but I guess you were being kind 'cause you didn't want to intimidate the fuck out of the rest of us."

He hadn't known what to do or say, but after a few minutes of awkwardness it felt cool. Really cool. And over the next several weeks, while he hadn't actively tried to flaunt his cock, he'd changed his habits. He started taking showers in the morning with everyone else and drying off in the public area, which had enabled him to see a lot of dicks--he'd probably seen 30 of the 40 guys on the floor naked--and all their dicks were smaller than his own. A few guys had even commented ("Shit, and I thought mine was big!"), and he'd ended up with the nickname "torpedo." What a revelation that was, from thinking he was small to realizing his was huge. Torpedo. He liked it.

Kevin knew that insecurity about his dick wasn't the only reason he'd felt shy about his body in August. His whole life he'd been way too thin--he probably should say "skinny," but he'd always hated the word. He felt embarrassed by his total lack of muscle--in August he had no pecs, just nipples over ribs. However, his adviser had insisted that he sign up for a phys ed class this semester to get the PE requirement out of the way, and he still couldn't believe he'd had the nerve to sign up for weight training. But he was so glad he did, for his body had responded in incredible ways. Exploded. When people joked about the "freshman 15," they usually meant fat, but he'd gained his freshman 15, all solid muscle, by October. He hadn't weighed since November, but figured he'd put on at least 25 pounds of muscle this semester. Where before there had been nipples on ribs, now he had well-defined pecs, whether he was bare chested or wearing shirts. He'd always felt embarrassed that his nipples stuck out so far, but he knew now that they looked great on top of his muscles as they pushed out against the inside of his shirts. Kevin had started the semester wearing loose-fitting medium shirts, but now the buttons on those strained and he'd even popped a few. The seams on his shirts that had hit at the shoulder bend in August were now at least an inch and a half above that spot, so he figured his shoulders were at least three inches wider. His biceps were at least an inch bigger, too, and they really popped.

Kevin loved feeling his new muscles; it had been difficult to remember not to keep feeling them in public, but when he was alone studying his hands were always feeling something he'd never felt before. It was so satisfying. In the fall when he and his buddies had thrown Frisbees on the quad, he'd been the only one with a shirt on. He couldn't wait till spring so he could feel comfortable being shirtless. Even the teacher had told him that he'd never seen anyone increase lifts and size so much during the semester, and he'd thanked Kevin for having been given the chance to train him. The teacher had also suggested that Kevin join the gym off campus where he trained people for body building competitions. That conversation had seemed like a dream. In high school, he'd bought a bodybuilding magazine that he'd looked at secretly, fantasizing about what it'd be like to look like that instead of the way he did. Now, maybe it would come true.

So as he approached the dorm, he knew he was ready to be on display, though he also figured it was unlikely that anyone would see him, as it was only 11:30 and women weren't supposed to be on the floor until noon. So he headed toward the weight room in the basement of the dorm to kill some time. He wasn't sure if he was doing so on the assumption that he was more likely to be seen when he made his naked strut if he showered after noon whether it was just the fact that he had to kill time before he was supposed to pick up Diane, or maybe it was simply the desire to work out some of the stress of finals.

His attire for the week had been sweat pants, tee-shirt, and sweatshirt, so he just stripped off the sweatshirt and started exercising on the lousy equipment. There wasn't much he could do in the dorm weight room, but he quickly did 70 pull-ups (exactly 70 more than he could do in August), then alternated between bench and shoulder press before finishing up with a ton of bicep curls. After about 20 minutes of intense exercise he could feel the pump, and as he pressed his fingers into the crevice in his chest and then felt his arms so he could feel his biceps jump, he knew exactly why he'd headed to the weight room--Diane. He wanted to look his best when he picked her up for the drive home.

Kevin and Diane had known each other since third grade when they'd competed in the county science fair--he'd taken first, she second. She'd gone to school in the town that was next to his, and they'd competed at county competitions through elementary school (not just science fairs, but also social studies fairs and spelling bees) and talked at football and basketball games and music competitions. They weren't exactly friends, but they were friendly, and he liked that he, the nerd, got to talk to a cute girl in front of his classmates.

Despite thinking Diane was cute, he'd never been interested in her, but that was in part because he hadn't been interested in anyone. That wasn't true either--what is true is that in high school he had not had enough confidence in his desirability to dare to be interested in anyone. Skinny, a nerd, and non-athletic, he also didn't like hunting, fishing, or country music--these weren't qualities that made a kid attractive in the farming community where he'd grown up. When Kevin moved in to his dorm at State U, he was pleasantly surprised to see that Diane was in the women's high rise next door. Their friendship had deepened in the first few weeks, and he'd introduced her to his friends.

I grew up and still live in a small farming community so I get the naive aspect of someone going off to college and “blooming”. I identify with a lot of how you describe Kevin. Thanks for writing. Can’t wait to read more.