Summer After High School

UROC1991

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Chapter Four

I caught a cab from the airport to campus. It was my first time there, so I had to trust the cabbie to get me where I wanted to go. As far as I know, everyone would be arriving today, on the day before Freshman Orientation was to start. Yesterday, my parents shipped all of my things up over-night, so I only have my backpack with my laptop and a few other things in it. It would have been nice if they had come up with me, but I guess this way my college experience is starting out fresh, without anybody from home to cling to.

We pulled up in front of what I took to be my dorm. A tall brick building of about 10 stories. There was a table outside of the front door with an overly perky girl there to welcome me, sign me in, and give me my room key and ID card. She informed me that Orientation starts tomorrow morning at 8 and that my RA will have left schedules and pamphlets in my room. She looked suspicious that I showed up without parents or luggage, but I guess she thought it wasn’t worth asking about. I headed in and took the elevator to the sixth floor.

Now, I find myself standing outside my door, room 616, being a pussy about going in and meeting my roommate.

What is he gonna be like? What is our room gonna be like? What if he’s weird? What if he’s not okay with my being gay? God, just grow up.

My internal voice continues rambling as I slip my key in and unlock the door. As I open it, I can hear the TV going, so I know my roommate is already there.

I go in, and I’m immediately shocked by the room. It isn’t how I expected dorm rooms to look. It has two beds lofted above desks, flush against opposing walls on the left and right sides of the room. The room has two windows on the wall opposite the door. Also against that wall stood a table with a pretty big TV, in front of which sat a futon on top of a rug. Sitting on the futon with an Xbox controller in his hand was my roommate.

“Oh! You must be my roommate! I’m Vance,” he said holding out his hand. He had dirty blonde hair, glasses, and tan skin. I took his hand and he pulled himself up with it, I could see he was about 5’10”, standing to be eye-level with me.

“I’m Ricky, nice to meet you,” I said, putting my bag down on the chair sitting at the desk under the empty bed.

“It’s good to meet you too! I know what you’re probably thinking, ‘What kind of name is Vance?’ I googled it and apparently it’s English, which is weird since my mom is Japanese. Well, half, anyway.”

“Oh, um...”

“Sorry for rambling. I’m just a little nervous. I’ve been here waiting for someone to show up for over a day now, so I’ve set the room up and tried to keep myself busy. My mom bought us this TV and Futon to use so we can have more of a little apartment than a, like, ‘dorm room’ dorm room. Ya know? Oh, I’m sorry, do you need help unpacking or anything?”

“Oh, no, I’m ok. My parents shipped up a bunch of boxes but I guess there not here yet so I don’t have anything to unpack yet. The room looks nice.”

“Thanks! I did my best. Well, if you don’t have anything else to do, sit down and play Halo with me! We can talk and get to know each other.” I don’t know what it was about him, but I immediately wanted to be friends with this guy. Not just because he was my roommate and you’re supposed to be friends with your roommate. He seemed pretty cool, which was a big relief, so I sat down with him instead of making up some stuff like I would have normally.

“So tell me about yourself,” I said. “Where are you from, for instance?”

“I’m from California, outside of San Diego. I’m the middle of three boys. My older brother is Lance, he’s 21, and my little brother is Tim, he just turned 16 last week. I know, Lance and Vance. My mom wised up I guess before Tim was born. It’s just my mom. My dad died when she was pregnant with Tim.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s fine, I never really knew him. It just sucks for my mom more than any of us. Lance goes to school across town, at Fisher. I guess that’s what made me come here, I guess. God, I can’t believe I’m still talking. You. What about you?”

“I’m from South Jersey. Nothing special. I’m an only child.”

“Cool, cool. You got a girlfriend?”

Here we go

“Oh, I’m gay, actually.”

“Boyfriend then?” he asked without a pause. Bullet dodged.

“Uh...no. Not really.”

“Not really? What’s that mean?” he said with a laugh.

“Well, it’s complicated. The short answer is ‘no.’ I’m unattached. You?”

“Oh, same. I had a girlfriend in high school but we broke up so we could go to school. Amicably. But it was pretty hard, I guess. Do you have a major yet?”

“No, I don’t really know what I wanna do. You?”

“I’m majoring in sex.”

“Oh, yeah, me too.”

“Seriously, though. I’m a psych major with a concentration in human sexuality. I just wanted to see what you would do when I said I was a sex major,” he said laughing.

“Haha, I didn’t know they offered anything like that.”

“Yeah, I think it’s kinda new. It’s really interesting.”

We went on talking like that for awhile. Just shootin’ the shit, as they say. We talked until about 6 PM, when we went to the dining hall for dinner. We kept talking through dinner, and then went back to the room and just sat around and talked some more. My boxes still didn’t show up so I texted and found out my parents forgot to send them. My mom promised she’d get them to me tomorrow.

“It’s ok, you can sleep on the futon,” Vance told me. “And we’re about the same size, so you can wear my clothes. It’s just a day, it’s no big deal.”

“Are you sure?”

“It is literally no problem at all. Seriously, I mean, why wouldn’t it be okay? You’re my new best friend, what’s sharing clothes?”

“Thanks. I just wish my parents, ya know, cared

“It really isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,” he said with a chuckle. As if on cue, his computer beeped. “Crap, my mom wants to skype.”

“Oh, I can leave, it’s no big deal. I’ll see if I can meet someone else on the hall.”

“No, you should stay, actually. If you want. My mom would probably want to meet you. You don’t have to though. Don’t feel obligated or anything.”

“I’ll stay. It might be fun.”

“Hi mom!” he says, after slapping a button on his computer, making a petite asian woman appear. She looks calm and professional, but she’s smirking at the same time.

“Hi pookie! How’s college going?”

“Uh, Mom, this is my roommate Ricky,” he answers, gesturing over his shoulder at me.

“Hi, nice to meet you Ms....”

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry, I’m embarrassing you in front of your roommate! Oh gosh. It’s good to meet you, too, Ricky. You can call me ‘V’. I guess I mean, e-meet you. I’ll real-meet you when I come visit. I guess you guys are getting along well?”

“Yeah, Mom. We’ve been talking all day, we’re cool,” he answers. As he’s speaking, there’s a knock on the door. We both look. Or, probably, all three of us look.

“Answer that, you can put me on hold or whatever,” she says, and Vance throws his laptop onto his bed as I go to answer the door. It’s Bill, our RA.

“Hi, guys! I know you’re Ricky and Vance, but which one is which?” We identified ourselves and he launched right into his speech. “Ok, cool. I don’t know how social you guys plan on being here, but tonight I’m working on encouraging our hall to get out and meet people and have fun on campus! My fraternity is throwing a party, and since I’m the only brother who’s an RA, I get to bring all my freshmen! You guys should come, it’ll be a lot of fun!”

I turned to Vance. I don’t know if I’m really ready for my first college party yet, but he doesn’t even give me a chance to think this. “We’ll be there.”

“Great! Oh, that’s awesome, it’s gonna be a great time! The theme is “That 70’s Party.” Try to dress appropriately. I know it’s late, though, so if you can’t really pull it off, that’ll be fine,” he said, and gave us directions to the house. “The party technically starts at 9, but no one cool gets there before 10. I’m off to go set up, I’ll see you soon!” and then he left. Immediately after the door slammed shut, we heard a squeal coming from the computer on Vance’s bed.

“Oh, my baby’s going to a college party!”

“Mom...”

“Shut up. You boys need to get ready but I need to talk to you first. You have to live with each other for the rest of the year, so be friendly. Be each other’s wingman. Don’t fight over girls, but help each other out. That’s the only way it’s ever going to be civil between you two.”

“Oh, you don’t really have to worry about that,” I began.

“Yeah, Ricky’s gay,” Vance said, finishing my sentence.

“Really?”

“Yep,” I answered. “Huge flaming fag-o-tron.”

“Don’t say that, you’re hardly flaming. I wouldn’t have even guessed. The same still applies though, help each other out there. It’s tough.”

“Mom, I’m sure we’ll be fine. We’re friends.”

“Vance, Ricky, make sure to help each other get laid. It will strengthen your friendship.”

“Mom...”

“I’ll give $50 to whichever one of you gets the other laid first. No joke. Now, I have to go. I’ll talk to you later, Vance. Have a good night!” and then she disconnected.
 

UROC1991

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“Sorry. My mom’s pretty weird.”

“She seemed cool.”

“I’m totally winning that $50 though.”

“In your dreams, I’m gay! In my experience, girls will pretty much take my advice on anything.”

“Come on, you’re not even that gay...”

“Girl, puh-lease. I can turn it on and off like a switch whenever I want. Bitch!” I give a little z-snap and he can’t stop laughing.

“Alright, if you say so, we’re both gonna be winners no matter who gets that $50 from my mom. We have two hours, let’s shower, and I’ll think about what we’ll be wearing.”

“You’ll think about what we’re wearing? Please don’t make me whip the gay voice back out.”

“They’re my clothes, and I kinda know how to dress. It’s a 70’s party though, so even if I mess up we can say it’s on purpose,” he says, and pulls down his pants. Startled by the sudden display of nudity, I don’t know what to do, so I turn around. Apparently it was too obvious. “Dude, it’s no big deal. I’m comfortable being naked in front of people. We’re both guys, it’s no big deal.”

“Even with the gay thing?”

“Just turn around so it isn’t awkward.” I do, and he’s standing there completely naked, hands above his head as if he’s on display for me. He does a spin as I look him up and down. I didn’t notice when he was clothed how ripped he was. He wasn’t big, but he had, maybe 4% body fat. And almost no body hair, just some in his pubic region. Speaking of the pubic region, he had a pretty average sized dick, maybe a little longer, but it was soft so I couldn’t tell. His balls, though, could give mine a run for their money; proportionally they looked huge. “Okay? Now you,” he said, crossing his arms.

Following his lead, I pulled my shirt off over my head, kicked off my flip-flops, and pulled off my pants. I left my boxers on at first, nervous, then I took them off too. What did I have to be nervous about?

“Duuuuuude.”

I guess that that’s what I have to be nervous about.

I spun for him as he did for me, making my six-inch softie flop a little. I was almost starting to enjoy the attention. He just kept staring at my dick. “Dude, seriously. That’s huge.”

“I already fooled around with a straight guy and he overcompensated by getting married the next month, so don’t get too interested.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I got my experimenting out of the way in high school. I’m just a little jealous. And glad that you’re gay. I would not want to compete with that.”

“It’s a blessing and a curse, I guess.”

“A curse? Really? Pray tell.”

“Well, I’m a grower.” His eyes bulged at that. “And I’m gay. Can you imagine trying to get that into someone’s ass?” He just stares, eyes wide with dismay. “Yeah, me neither.”

He threw me a towel and wrapped another around his waist. He looked pensive. “I guess you have a point,” he says as we exit into the hallway, him carrying a shower caddy.

“How much does it grow?” he asked as we entered the bathroom. Luckily, the showers were individual, curtained-off stalls.

“You know we can talk about anything else, right?”

“Sorry, I’m just... fascinated, I guess. This 50 is in the bag”

“Don’t be so sure.”

“Come on, guys love chest hair!” We laughed, and didn’t talk much more for the rest of the shower. We passed Vance’s body wash and shampoo back and forth, and he waited for me to rinse my hair before walking back to the dorm. “Let’s hurry, I think I know what you’ll be wearing, but I want to take a quick look.”

Once inside the room, Vance rushed over to the wardrobe on his side and threw open the doors. I was shocked to see how packed it was. He threw me a pair of acid-washed jeans. “Put these on.”

“Underwear?”

“Try them on first.” I did, doing up the button fly. They were a little loose, and they ended up sitting a little low on my hips, ending up almost covering my feet. “Yeah, no underwear. It would sit too high, and having boxers sticking up out of your jeans is not very 70’s, I imagine.”

“Come on, I’m gonna be flashing so much ass crack! I can feel the breeze!”

“I’ve got that covered, just give me a sec,” he says, flipping through the hangers at lightning pace. “Ah hah!” he finally mutters, and pulls out a brown fringe vest.

“No.”

“Put it on.”

“Why do you own this stuff?”

“Just, put it on, ok?”

“No shirt?”

“Nope, we’re taking full advantage of the forest growing on your chest and stomach.”

“Come on, it doesn’t even have buttons!” But he just stared me down. The outfit was furthered by him having me part my hair down the middle, pushing it behind my ears. He cut the bottom off of a tie-dye shirt he says he never wears and told me to use it as a headband. I was completed by a pair of aviators and my flip-flops. I have to admit, I looked as I imagined the 70’s to be. “So can I dress you?”

“Nope. My clothes, so I hold the power in this relationship, Mr. Ed. I’m going full Bee Gees.” I sat on the bed as he pulled out and put on his clothes. White shirt, only 2 buttons done, tucked into matching white pants with black shoes. He even had a gold medallion chain to pull it all together.

“Why do you have all of these clothes?” I asked.

“I just have a little bit of everything, I guess.”

“Well, you’re full 70’s. When people think 70’s, I think they go right to the stoner/war protester that you dressed me as. When they see you, though, there’ll be no mistaking you for anything else.”

“Thanks.”

“You should draw on some fake chest hair with a sharpie or something. It would be hilarious. If there are older, better looking girls there, funny will get you laid. Not to say you’re unattractive, because you are pretty good looking, but just in case.”

“Not gonna happen, but I like how you’re thinking.”

He eventually took my advice, but not until after we pounded a few shots. I grabbed my shaving kit and was almost out the door to the bathroom when he stopped me.

“What?” I asked.

“You’re in college! You don’t have to shave every day anymore. Keep some stubble, it looks good. Masculine.”

Before we knew it, it was 10:15, so we headed out, trying to remember Bill’s directions.

We finally arrived at the house about a half hour later. Bill was at the door and welcomed us. I think he could tell we were a little tipsy, but he complimented our last-minute efforts to put together costumes, and I willing put all the credit on Vance’s closet. Cheap Trick was playing in the house, and I was impressed with the DJ’s ability to stick to the 70’s theme. Sure, Surrender could totally stand up as a pop hit today, but that’s beside the point.

Vance and I split up once we got into the house. He stayed and talked to Bill, and I went to find a clique of sorority girls. I turned the gay up to 11 and hyped Vance as much as I could. I’d never tried to get anyone laid before, so I just did my best. Mostly stuff about how I wished he was gay since he was such a cool guy, and of course that he was good-looking. Then they pulled me out to the dancefloor to “boogie” with them. We heard a good selection of songs, a mix of current hits and 70’s dance music. After a few hours of sweaty dancing, I could feel myself getting wobbly with alcohol. I admit that I may have gone a little overboard, it being my first college party and all.
 

UROC1991

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I leaned against the wall below the staircase and tried to steady the tilting room. My legs were straight out at an angle below me, my back straight up against the wall. I stared into the main room of the house like a wallflower, when a cute black guy came up and stood next to me in the same position. He was quite a bit shorter than me, maybe 5’4”, with short hair. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and he was ripped like a swimmer. He had a blank whiteboard hanging around his neck.

Ricky? he had written on it, and showed it to me.

“Uh... yes?”

He erases the board quickly with his fingers, and whips out a marker. I was told to come over and say hello

“Oh, ok. What’s with the board?”

He scribbles again Mute. Had my tonsils out at 14. Surgery accident. Nice $ettlement.

“Oh...” I don’t know what to say. I’m too drunk to deal with past tragedies. “I’m sorry.”

He smiles. Thx and then we’re quiet for a minute. He keeps standing there and smiling.

“So... what’s up?” I begin to ask, but I’m cut off mid-sentence by him pressing his mouth into mine. He kisses me hard, I’m almost afraid he’s going to bite my tongue off, but I press back and give him as much as I can. He throws his leg over mine to kind of straddle me against the wall. His hands are under my vest, rubbing through the hair on my chest and pressing me against the wall. In another what-do-I-do-with-my-hands fit of panic, I grasp his head in both hands and press him harder into my mouth.

He grinds his crotch into my belly, he’s already really hard. Miraculously, I’ve been able to stay relatively soft so far, instead of concentrating on the situation, I’m running off the last 10 years of NL All Star starting second baseman. Jose Vidro, Marcus Giles, Jeff Kent, I think as his hands run lower down my abdomen. Jeff Kent, Chase Utley, Chase Utley, Chase Utley, mmm, yeah, Chase Utley. Yum! and with that goes any chance I had at keeping soft. At about the same time Chase Utley was occupying my thoughts, the sexy black swimmer’s hand was reaching down and rubbing my dick over my pants. His eyes popped open and he pulled away from me with a gasp.

He tilted his head and gave me a look, somewhere between quizzical and shocked, but I didn’t know what to say. Did he think I had stuffed my pants? I mean, it’s still swelling, so I don’t know how he could think that. To confirm, though, he pulls on my front two belt loops. The pants are loose, and I’m not wearing underwear of any kind, so when he puts his face up against my abs, he gets the full view of my growing member. He pops back up straight and presses his body back into mine, kissing me somehow harder than before, exploring my mouth with pure lust. Prince starts singing “When Doves Cry.”

I pull away and say “I think this song is actually from the 80’s,” but he ignores me and pulls me in for another kiss. After about three seconds, though, he pulls away and begins scratching something out onto his board.

My room is right upstairs

I smile drunkenly and he takes my hand and pulls me off the wall. He keeps pulling me by the hand as we turn the corner and head up the stairs, almost in full sprint. The air is thick with pot smoke. We reach his door and he pulls me up against him, I have to brace myself with my hands on his door as he reaches up to kiss me. Now that I’m in a full standing position, I can see just how big our height difference is: he kisses me hard on the nape of my neck because he can’t reach any higher without climbing. I notice that he has, literally scratched into the paint of his door, the words “Abandon All Hope Ye Who Enter Here.” So... this is either gonna be a lot of fun, or someone’s gonna find my body. Maybe it’ll be fun either way.

He reaches behind him and turns the door knob, causing us to stumble/tumble into his bedroom. I almost immediately abandon hope, as I was advised to do. Tied to his bed, literally tied, like with ropes, is a tall white guy with an afro. He’s being straddled backwards by a girl who’s leaning down and licking his shins. I stare, and they stare back, for almost a full minute as sexy black swimmer regains his feet and pulls me out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

“Was that your room? What are they doing in there?”

He nods to my first question, and shrugs to my second. Then he writes your place? and I break into a grin so big that it can’t be taken as anything but agreement. He bounds down the stairs and out the front door, not waiting for me. I catch up and I ask him, “Don’t you want to kick them out of your room?”

What am I gonna say? he writes, and give me a wink. Mute humor. Fabulous. I try to lead him back to my dorm, but I’m not exactly sure where I’m going. I mean, it’s my first day here. He figures it out and asks me what building I’m in, and takes us there. It’s less than five minutes before we begin approaching my dormitory.

“So you’re not much of a conversationalist, huh?” I ask. This is as close to charming as I can come when I’m this drunk. He likes it though, and gives my torso a back-handed slap. Then, after a couple of steps, he starts to run away, up the steps, and into the building. I follow as best I can, and meet him in the elevator he’s holding for us. We’re the only ones in it, and he jumps on me before I even get the chance to hit the floor button. I lean back against the wall, he wraps his legs around me, devours my neck, and I manage to hit “6.”

Before I know it, he’s leaning against my door, sandwiched between me and it, and I’m trying to get the key and turn it in the lock. I’m shaking in anticipation, so he helps me. I’m so horny, my dick is almost bursting through my pants. Instead, we burst through the door, and I remember abruptly that I don’t have sheets, or anything for that matter, on my side of the room. Sexy black swimmer starts pulling me over to Vance’s bed but I stop him. “That’s my roommate’s bed,” I laugh. He points to the futon and I shrug with a little head tilt. “That’s his too, but I guess he won’t mind, right?”

In response, he pushes me over to the futon and sits me down on the armrest. He pulls my vest off with a flourish as we kiss, and it doesn’t take long for him to start moving down off of my mouth. In a flash, he’s on his knees and unbuttoning my pants, and my dick springs out and almost hits him in the face. He smiles and pulls his whiteboard off from around his neck. Before throwing it to the floor he writes That’s NOT going in my ass, which is about what I expected.

What I didn’t expect, though, was for him to start fitting my dick into his mouth. With apparent ease, he slips the head in and starts bobbing up and down. I gasp, and he pulls off with a pop. I’m throbbing and want more, but he goes down and slobbers all over my balls, trying to fit them into his mouth. It feels great, and I lean back from my perch involuntarily. This leaves me in an awkward position, my ass still perched on the armrest, with my back arched and my head resting on the cushion of the futon behind me. I’d flip all the way onto the couch if sexy black swimmer wasn’t pushing down on my legs, which are still wrapped in the acid-washed jeans, to keep me from slipping away from him. He gives a long lick from my balls up the bottom of my shaft, and I shiver as he lets go and lets me fall all the way onto my back.

He scampers over to his whiteboard really quickly and writes something on it as I shimmy out of my jeans. His are still on, I see, as he pops up over the armrest to look at me. He holds up his sign.

When I lost my voice, I also lost my gag reflex

Oh. My. God. Is he saying what I think he is? He can’t. It’s physically impossible, right? I ogle him wide-eyed as he smirks and climbs over the armrest, and up my prone and naked body. Without taking a beat, he grabs the base of my dick and slips the head into his mouth. I can feel he’s breathing heavily through his nose now as he starts bobbing up and down, taking more and more of me into his mouth with every trip down. He’s doing better than I’d expected anyone could, and when the head of my dick reaches his throat is like nothing I expected.

That one step up in pressure felt great, but it only lasted about a second before he pulled back off to take a breath. He went back down right away though, and further this time. I was almost so shocked I couldn’t enjoy it. By the third trip down his throat, I can see his throat bulging out from my girth as he bobs slightly. That can happen?? Worry is immediately replaced by pleasure as I’m quickly overwhelmed by how hot it looks. The intense pressure intensifies as he presses his face down even further to wrap his lips around the base of my dick, his throat muscles working to try to swallow.

“Fuck, fuck, that feels amazing, fuck!”

He pulls off all the way and gasps for breath, then goes all the way down again. By the fourth passage down his throat, I feel my balls tightening. I’m getting close.

“Fuck, I’m really gonna cum. Fuck, I’m close!” I yell. He responds and pulls off just enough so that only my head rests in his mouth. He pumps both hands up and down my shaft, slick with spittle, and he sucks with all his might, his cheeks pulling in onto the head of my dick. With a grunt I explode in his mouth. He handles the first stream or two deftly, swallowing and immediately flicking his tongue over the head of my dick. It feels amazing. But right away I start rapid-firing semen into his mouth, and he can’t take it all. He swallows, and a thick stream drips down my dick, but I’m not done.

His eyes are bulging out of his head as he tries to swallow again, but coughs, sending a spray of jizz onto my stomach. This doesn’t discourage him, though, and he sucks on the head of my dick like it’s a straw as my orgasm wraps up. My eyes roll back in my head as my body relaxes on the futon, and my body reflexively shudders uncontrollably. He keeps sucking as I go soft, and then starts licking my dick and balls cleans of jizz. I’m willing to stay dirty, though, because now it’s my turn to suck some dick. I sit up and he’s starting to move up to my torso, which I can feel is wetter than I had thought previously.

Just then, the door opens, and Vance stumbles in with his arm around a short blonde girl. “Dude! Nice!” he screams, leaving his girl to walk over and give me a high-five. He can see I’m soaked in cum, but I guess he’s too drunk to make and good judgements as to his own behavior. I’m too startled to give a proper response, as sexy black swimmer is sitting on the floor with a look of fright on his face. I finally think to slap Vance’s hand, and sexy black swimmer jumps to his feet, grabs his board, and runs out of the dorm. We hear the door to the staircase slamming from down the hall and Vance says to his girl, “that guy just won me $50.”

Vance throws me a towel from out of a drawer and I wipe myself down. “So... do you think we can use the room?” he asks. I forgot why he was there, at least momentarily, and I look over at the girl, who is staring at me. Or, rather, staring at my dick.

“Oh... yeah,” I respond. I pull on Vances jeans and stumble out the door just as my nameless hookup did only a minute earlier, except I close the door behind me. I hear the girl say something from behind the door after it’s closed, but I can’t quite make it out. I can imagine along what lines it was, though. Exasperated, naked except for the jeans I wore to the party, and with a mouth empty of penis, I head to the lounge in the center of our floor. It’s empty, which makes sense, since all of us freshmen had to be at an orientation event in about 6 hours.

While watching TV, I take stock of myself. My makeshift headband is gone, and my hair is sticking straight up in the back. Obvious sex hair. I still have on Vance’s sunglasses, so I take them off and put them on the couch next to me. My chest hair is still kinda crusty, and I smell of sweat, beer, and jizz. I was sobering up though, which is probably a good thing. ESPN is starting to get repetitive and I’m starting to get sleepy when Bill walks through the lounge.

He notices me and comes back. With a smile on his face, he sits down next to me on the couch. “You’re a mess, huh? You know you have to be at orientation at 8, right?”

“Yeah, but Vance needed some privacy.”

“Good for him. Hopefully he’ll be able to give you a little more warning in the future. I heard you left the party early with someone, yeah?”

I look at the ground sheepishly and try not to smile.

“Yeah, I heard Evan can do some pretty impressive things.”

“Oh, god. Is it bad that I’m just learning his name?” This sends us into a laughing fit. When we finally settle down I ask, “So I guess he’s one of the brothers?”

“Yeah. In fact, I sent him over to you. Vance briefed me on the situation and Evan was the obvious choice.”

“You did well,” I say and laugh. “He did run out early though, I think Vance scared him.”

“Honestly, he was probably glad to get an excuse to run.” We talk some more. I learn about Bill and he learns about me. He’s a junior. He seems like a pretty cool guy, and he definitely won’t be getting us into any trouble for breaking little rules. I can tell he wants to go to bed, but he doesn’t want to just leave me in the lounge alone. He’s a good RA.

Finally, Vance’s blonde girl walks through the lounge, smiling, and nodding to me without missing a step. “Well, that was her. I guess I can head back to my room,” I tell Bill and we get up and go to our respective rooms. Vance is laying on top of his blankets snoring, but when I close the door behind me, he stirs.

“Have a good time?” I ask him, and he smiles and nods.

“You too, I guess?”

“Yeah, I’d say college is pretty fun.”
 

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Ya, this is a good story; hope it continues.

Thanks! And don't worry, it will continue. Chapter Five just needs to be proofread and it will be up. Unfortunately, I hate proofreading. Probably sometime tonight though. This post will make me feel obligated to do it, haha
 

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Chapter Five

About a week after our adventurous first night on campus, Vance and I were lounging around the room, bored. The TV was on, turned to Sportscenter, of course, and our door was open, trying to welcome passers-by to join us in our boredom. Of course, no one did.

It was Saturday afternoon and, technically, I was swamped with homework. For my literature class, I have to read Stephen King’s The Shining. It’s awesome that I get to read something cool for a class... Unfortunately, it was assigned Friday and I have to have the reading done by Monday for discussion in class. About 500 pages. It was going to be rough. By this time on Saturday, I’d only gotten a little bit into it, so I knew I was booked solid for the next two days. Vance was really just hanging around, enjoying his day off.

Right around when I finished Chapter 8, Bill walked in. Well, limped in on crutches is more accurate. I hadn’t really had a chance to see or talk to him since after the party, before all of our orientation stuff and classes started. Of course, I make time in my busy schedule of reading to talk to him. Some call it procrastination.

“Dude! What happened?“ I yell as Vance hops off his bunk and helps Bill down onto the recently-cleaned futon.

“Oh, it’s not too bad,” he says, but as he sits down I can see there’s a cast on his foot, sticking out of his pants leg.

“But, really, what happened?”

“I fell down the stairs at the house the other day.”

“Oh, shit. Were you drunk? I had a tib-fib fracture a year ago after I fell down a flight of stairs at a friend’s party,” Vance begins his story, but we stop him before he gets too far into it.

“Yeah, I was a little drunk. And I had this girl hanging off me, so I was a little off-balance.”

“That sucks! That’s gotta be a bitch to get around campus, huh?” I ask.

“Eh, it could be worse. It’s just my ankle that’s broken. I should be back on it in a couple of months. The worst part is that I’m gonna miss the whole football season.”

“Aww, that’s... terrible.”

“I didn’t know you played football,” I say.

“Yeah. Just the kicker, so I guess I’m not the most vital member of the team, but I was the only one that we had.”

“What are they gonna do?”

“I don’t really know. I mean, we’re division three, so it isn’t like it’s the end of the world. They’ll probably just hold tryouts for someone new. Or they’ll have me teach someone on the team how to kick. It isn’t like it’s super difficult.”

“Ok, but the real question,” Vance says, “is ‘did you get some from that girl that pushed you down the stairs?’ ” We laugh, and Bill nods, so we laugh even harder.

“I guess she didn’t really have a choice, in her mind. She felt guilty, I was lame. I was hopped up on painkillers, so it wasn’t the best sex ever, but I’m not complaining. Last time I saw you,” talking directly to Vance now, “you seemed to be doing pretty well with a lady yourself.”

He blushes, but I can tell he’s not gonna let this story go. He told me the night of, but he’s put in a few new flourishes since then. “Well, her name is Cassandra, and she’s short and has this golden hair and nice body. It turns out we have a Psych class together. Apparently she heard I was a great guy, which must have come from somebody,” he says, pointing at me. “Anyway, we get talking about Psych, and human sexuality, and we’re drunk, obviously, so we talk even more about sex. And about how great sex is. And blah blah blah. Anyway, we’re dancing, and we’re grinding, and we’re making out, and then she asks, ‘do you wanna get out of here?’ Well, obviously I want to get out of there, especially with her. We discuss on the way out, and she has two roommates that she doesn’t want to know that she’s hooking up with a someone on her first night, so we come back here.”

I’m hoping Vance is gonna gloss over the next part a little bit. Too bad. “So we come back here and I open the door, fully expecting Ricky here to either be still at the party or upstairs at the house with that guy you sent over to him, but they’re both here on the futon. Ricky’s just laying there, giant dick flopping around, with sexy black swimmer tongueing jizz off of him.”

“Oh. ‘Sexy black swimmer’ is Evan, by the way” Bill corrects. “He’s not a swimmer, so I don’t know why Ricky started calling him that...”

“He looks like one!”

“Anyway... jizz is being lapped up, and sexy bl...Evan is just shocked to see us walk in. He jumps up and bolts. It was hilarious. I gave Ricky a high-five and told him to split. Cassandra was all like ‘Dude! Your roommate is fucking hung,’ and I was just like, ‘I know, I know,’ and she pushes me down on the futon where there’s still, like, puddles of fucking cum. I was fucking drunk though, so I didn’t give a shit. To make a long story short... ‘too late,’ I know... we, ya know, sexytimes, my ass squishing in Ricky’s jizz. She was definitely thinking about him the whole time, but I don’t give a shit. Totally makes me feel uncomfortable now talking about it. She leaves, I plop down on the bed and pass out.”

“We cleaned the futon after orientation the next day,” I clarify, hoping to comfort Bill, who is sitting on the spot Vance described as “ass-squishing.” He looks relieved.

“That’s... hilarious,” Bill determines.

“Also... kinda gross,” I try, but Bill isn’t having it.

“No, that’s an awesome story. College is about getting stories, and doing stuff, and that’s just the kind of stuff you’re supposed to be doing. Sure, it’s weird and disgusting, but you got laid, in an... interesting way, immediately after your roommate, on your FIRST DAY! That’s a great story!!” He has a point, this kind of stuff only happens in movies. “So, what are you guys doing for the rest of the day? Wanna go to the football game?”

“Uh... I kinda have a lot of reading to do for Monday.”

“Fuck that!” Vance says. “Just watch the movie! Hedge mazes and bloody elevators and shit.” I put up a little resistance, but finally they are able to convince me. I was surprised Bill was trying so hard to get me to skip out on my homework. He’s a good guy, but I’m starting to re-think how great an advisor he is.

We get to the game just as it’s starting. We’re kicking off and the ball barely gets to the 50-yard line. “God, they’re gonna miss me,” Bill says with a chuckle as he plops down.

Fast-forward, we lose the game. Fittingly, by a field goal. We’re about to leave when the coach sees Bill in the stands and runs over. “This is your fault, Bill!” He looks mean.

“I’m hurt! I can’t play!”

“Exactly! You should have been more careful! We’re in a real pickle, you have to find us a kicker.”

“What? Me?”

“We need a kicker. You’re our kicker. Find someone who can kick before we lose another game because I have to put Johnson out there again!” and he runs away into the locker room.

“Was he serious?” I ask as we leave.

“Coach Phil is always serious. You guys interested in playing football?”

“No,” we answer in unison.

“Come on, you should be more involved on campus. It’s part of college life. I mean, what do you guys do, go to class? That’s not the full college experience!”

“You just told me, like, three hours ago that I was doing college right!” Vance screams comically.

“I’ve never even kicked before, why would the team want me?” I ask. Vance is already moving on in his head and ignoring the conversation, he wants no part of it. Neither do I, of course, but I can’t just ignore him altogether.

“I’ll teach you, it really is easy. You’ll be learning from the best.”

“I don’t think so. I really just don’t think I’d fit in.”

“Everyone fits in, come on. It’s like joining a club. Plus, it’ll give you an excuse to work out. You’ll get nice and toned, and it’s hardly any work. I mean, you’ll be the kicker.”

“But, with the gay thing...” I’m grasping at straws now, I know, but I need to get out of this. He’s talking me into a corner.

“Oh, don’t worry. This is 2012, people are accepting. And it’s D-3, it isn’t like you’ll be in the spotlight or anything.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Come on, just try out. You don’t have to commit to anything, just try it and see how you do. Maybe you’ll like it?”

“I still don’t think so.”

“What if I try out with you?” Vance pipes up.

“Uh...”

“Come on, you wouldn’t make me try out alone, would you?” I don’t notice the wink he shoots Bill.

Finally, begrudgingly, I answer “Fine.”

Bill puts down a crutch to give me a high-five as we get to the sixth floor. “Tryouts are at noon tomorrow, so your training starts at 10. I’ll come get you, just be dressed and ready, guys.”

“Wait, tomorrow? I have a shit-ton of work to do!”

“You’re not backing out on me now,” he says, and clicks away down the hall.

I try to cram myself full of The Shining the rest of the night, knowing that I won’t be getting a lot of time tomorrow to finish the book. Meanwhile, Vance is reading off all kinds of information about placekickers.

“Most kickers wear special shoes, but you’re allowed to kick barefoot according to NCAA rules.”

“The typical formation is to take three steps, leaning forward, before kicking the ball.”

“Martin Gramatica once kicked a 65-yard field goal for Kansas State.”

“Paul Edinger spins around in a 180 before kicking the ball.”

“Apparently, it helps if your foot is deformed. Like a weird little club.”

By the time I get to sleep, Danny hasn’t even gotten into room 217 yet. If I recall correctly it’s 237 in the film version.
 
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When Bill comes to get us in the morning, we’re ready to go. I’m wearing just basketball shorts and a t-shirt with a pair of beat up Chuck Taylors on my feet. Bill looks at me and just shakes his head, but says that that’s good enough to learn in. We head down to the field, apparently, he’s already briefed the coach on what he’d be doing with us, and that if we learned enough, we’d get a spot on the team.

When we reach the field, I’m shocked to see about 40 guys running around, stretching, and working out. All of them looked to be pretty buff, and almost none were wearing shirts.

“Is this heaven?” I whisper, only half-joking, but it got a laugh from my friends, so... mission accomplished. I try not to stare as Bill leads us over to the far end of the field by the goal-posts. No one is really looking at us, they’re all busy doing reps of whatever kind of practice stuff football players do. I’m trying to think about kicking instead of burying my face in the quarterback’s smooth pecs or the wide receiver-looking guy’s bubble butt.

Bill taught us the basics in about an hour. I honestly don’t understand how it took that long. Stance, the lead up, how to aim, and stuff like that. I got into it pretty quickly. I think my year of soccer freshman year of high school may have helped me get a boost over Vance.

After about another hour of warming up and practicing, I started getting the hang of it, which is good, since looking around the field I started to get interested in joining the team. The coach came over and gave us instructions for our tryout. It was grueling and took hours. We didn’t just kick a few field goals, as I had expected. We tried about 50 each. Then we did long kicks. It was clear I was a better kicker than Vance, but that wasn’t enough. He had us run, and lift, and tackle some weird mannequin thing. Then we ran through tires, and jumped over stuff. It was like he wanted us to be real football players or something.

I made the team. Vance didn’t. He didn’t seem too disappointed. “I can’t do shit like that on a regular basis,” he told me while we were walking back to the dorm, sweaty. “I probably would have just turned him down if he picked me.”

“I’m exhausted, I know... it was a little much. I think it’ll be fun, though.”

“You’re gonna die.”

“Yeah, probably. But I’ll be ‘that football player that died,’ instead of just ‘that guy.’ ”

“Lolz.” That’s pronounced ‘lawlz,’ if you were wondering. I’ve never heard anyone actually say that out loud before Vance. We got back to the room, and I sat down at my desk and picked up The Shining. I was still holding out hope of finishing it. Then I noticed I missed a text from Will.

Will (2:25PM, Sep 6): Miss you dude. Hows college?
Me (3:45PM, Sep 6): I miss you too man, it’s going great. I’m reading stephen king for class, lol
Will (3:48PM, Sep 6): Thats awesome, my classes are all boring. u been having fun tho?
Me (3:49PM, Sep 6): Always, you know me, lol. Really, tho, I hooked up with this guy the first night here. It was crazy!
Will (3:50PM, Sep 6): Slut
Me (3:51PM, Sep 6): Don’t be jealous of me, I’m sure youre doing fine
Will (3:53PM, Sep 6): Lol. I’m jealous of him.
Me (3:56PM, Sep 6): Oh, sorry
Will (3:59PM, Sep 6): I’m just playin, dont worry. You’re still a slut tho.
Me (4:01PM, Sep 6): So what have you been getting into? California... you must be high nonstop
Will (4:03PM, Sep 6): But of course
Me (4:05PM, Sep 6): Come on, give me a story. You always have good stories
Will (4:06PM, Sep 6): Well... Jimmy did tell me this one story. You were in it. Thanks for keeping that a secret.

SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT my mind lights up like an alarm

Me (4:09PM, Sep 6): Sorry
Will (4:10PM, Sep 6): That’s all you have to say? I get it, he’s hotter than me, but come on, thats not right.
Me (4:14PM, Sep 6): I’m sorry, that’s not what it was. It was just a heat of the moment thing. I should have told you, but I was embarrassed. Forgive me?
Will (4:16PM, Sep 6): You should be embarrassed but obviously i’m gonna forgive you, but just tell me next time you hook up with my brother, k?
Me (4:17PM, Sep 6): I’m really sorry
Will (4:18PM, Sep 6): I get it. I’m glad ur doing well at school, I have to get going tho.
Me (4:19PM, Sep 6): K. I’ll text you if Jimmy stops by
Will (4:21PM, Sep 6): douche
Me (4:22PM, Sep 6): Sorry. too soon.
Will (4:24PM, Sep 6): Ya think?
Me (4:26PM, Sep 6): Sorry. Ttyl

I lean back in my chair and sigh. Maybe I avoided total disaster, but I still wish that Will had never found out about that night. Hopefully he didn’t put together that it was immediately after I turned him down. I turn around and look at Vance, laying on his stomach and clicking away on his computer. “Remember I told you about that straight guy I hooked up with?”

“Yeah. You didn’t really say anything about it though, just that you fooled around with a straight guy and then he got married.”

“Well... long story short... I’m best friends with him and his twin brother, his brother is bi, and in love with me. We promised never to tell his brother about it, but he told him anyway. Now I’m trying to make amends.”

“Wait, go back. You fucked a straight guy, instead of his twin brother that actually is into dudes? Dudes, and specifically you.”

“You make me sound like a horrible person,” I say, putting my face in my hands. “And I didn’t fuck him, we just, ya know, hand stuff. And he’s hotter than his brother. Jimmy has blond hair and muscles and Will is skinny and dyes his hair and stuff.”

“Your defense is ‘I slept with your brother because he’s hotter?’ Seriously don’t say that.”

“Well, I didn’t put it like that!” Now I’m laughing a little. It is an absurd situation. “It looks like he’s gonna forgive me though, so that’s good.”

“Well, yeah. He’s in love with you. Or he at least wants a turn. Or he doesn’t have too many friends, and your uncontrollable sex drive isn’t enough reason to throw one of the few away.”

“I don’t have an uncontrollable sex drive!” I yell in a disgusted voice. “Where does that come from? It was just that one time! And we were stoned. And he came on to me. What would you have done?”

“Probably the same thing, but I admit I think with my penis.”

“I mean, I knew it was a bad idea at the time... I just couldn’t control myself.”

“... says he, who three seconds ago screamed ‘I don’t have an uncontrollable sex drive!’ Boom. Lawyer-ed.”

“Shit,” I say, knowing Vance is right, like usual. I think I may need a new interjection. Maybe I’ll try “crap.” I turn back to my book.

I don’t get very far into it before needing a break, so Vance and I order Chinese and watch football, still sticky with sweat from our brief interlude as football players. Our food arrives and we take a walk to smoke a joint. These are the ends we go to to avoid setting off our smoke alarms or disturbing our neighbors. Really, we’re just doing it to avoid getting in trouble. We get back as the sun is getting ready to set, I down my General Tso’s chicken and about 7 or 10 (maybe closer to 20) fortune cookies.

I picked up my book again as my buzz was winding down. There was no way I was gonna finish it, but I still felt obligated to get as much done as possible. I was tired, though, since it had been a long day and my burnout was creeping up on me, so I knew I’d be going to sleep soon rather than finishing my reading. I’m practically dozing between pages already when Vance starts talking.

“So, Ricky...” he begins. “I... need to... masturbate.” He drags out each syllable, as if he’s regretting bringing it up.

I pause. “Now?” I look at him unbelievingly.

“Well, I’ve been holding back for, ya know, like, a week now.” I know the feeling, I haven’t jerked off since I’ve been here, and my only orgasm came at the hands of the sexy black swimmer. I spend all of my time doing something, and I’m never alone, so I understand that he’s been holding off for a long time. But, seriously, you don’t sexile someone to masturbate.

“Can’t you just go jerk off in the shower?”

“Do you jerk off in the shower?”

“No, dude, that’s gross.”

“And unsanitary.”

“Ok, fine. Not in the shower. So you want me to leave? I’m tired! Can’t you just wait and do it sometime tomorrow?”

“It’s really bad, man. I haven’t, ya know, since the night of the party with that girl.”

“I know, I get it, I’ve been going just as long, but you can’t kick me out now! The library closes in, like, 15 minutes!”

“Then stay if you want, but I have to jerk it.”

“Seriously?” I ask, more exasperated than sincere. “You’re gonna do this to me just because it’s been a while? Thats... just... ugh!”

“You wanna join me?” he looks at me as he hops down off of his bed. I laugh, but then do a double take. Wait, is he serious?

“Yeah, right.”

“Come on, why not? It’s been a while, and remember that uncontrollable sex drive?” Suddenly, I would really like to jerk off. Just the suggestion of it makes my mind go wild. All those guys from the football field early, athletic, sweaty, ripped. Crap.

“Eh... I don’t think so man, it’ll be weird,” I say, and get up from my desk, taking my book and heading for the door.

“No, don’t let it be weird. I did it all the time with my friends at home.” Then, after a beat, “don’t let me pressure you into it or anything, though.”

“Well, now I want to,” I say, trying to conceal my smile at the thought of jerking off, “but it’s gonna be weird.”

“Yes! I mean no! It won’t be weird, just relax and have fun.”

“But the gay thing, you aren’t weirded out by that?”

“Dude! How many times are we gonna go through this? I’m straight, and confident in my sexuality. If a gay guy wants to watch me jerk off, and if said gay guy,” he gestures toward me, “is turned on by it, I’m just gonna take it as a compliment and enjoy it.”

“Fuck, let’s do it then,” I say after a moment and throw my book back down on my desk.
 

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“Nice! There’s no better style of manly bonding! Are you sure, though? I really don’t want to seem too eager and I’m afraid all of a sudden that I do. It’s just, ya know, I like jerking off, and it’s fun to do it with other people, ya know?”

“I mean, I’m not entirely comfortable, but I told myself I’m gonna try new things, so let’s do it! It’s your show, I’ve never done this before. So how’s this gonna work?”

He sat down on the futon with a “hmph” and thought. “Well, I guess we’re not gonna be able to watch the same porn or anything, right?” I nodded and sat down next to him, smiling. I was honestly kind of enjoying this, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. “I got it!” Vance finally shouts and stands, pointing his finger in the air as if he’s had some influential epiphany.

“Here’s how it’s gonna work,” he explains to me, ushering me up from the futon. “I’ll open up the futon, so it’s in its bed-style. We’ll take a few pillows, and prop up against the opposite armrests! This way, we can each have a computer without disturbing the other, and we’ll be able to hang out and have a good time together!”

“So, just sit here a jerk off, basically?”

“Well, we could always make it more interesting,” he said, and tilted his head, raising an eyebrow with a knowing smile.

“I’m waiting,” I say. He obviously has something in mind.

“Have you ever heard of edging?”

“Uh... I think so.”

“Edging is where you jerk off, for a long time, continually bringing yourself right up to the edge of orgasm. Before you reach that point-of-no-return, though, you back off and delay cumming. You do this over and over again, and when you eventually do, ya know, reach orgasm, it’s, like, exponentially better.”

“Yeah, okay. So...”

“So, let’s both just edge and see who can go the longest without cumming. No getting soft. Winner... I don’t know... does the loser’s laundry for the next week?”

“Alright, sounds good. I’ve never done it before though, so you may have an advantage. Do you do ‘edging’ a lot?”

“I mean, not a lot but I guess I’m pretty practiced. Some tips: when you feel yourself getting close, just pull your hand away and wait, like, 10 seconds to come down. It’s not as easy as it sounds. The closer you get to that peak without going over, the better it is. Squeeze your PC muscle, that’s, like, what you flex if you want to stop peeing mid-stream, and it helps you hold it off. The term ‘edging’ comes from getting close to the proverbial edge of orgasm, and riding it for as long as possible. I’ve been able to do it for as much as a few hours before, but I doubt I’m gonna make it more than an hour tonight.”

“An hour? How can you masturbate for an hour? The fuck?”

“It won’t be too hard with a little motivation. And after the first time, all the motivation you’ll need will come from how much better the orgasm is. This time, though, when you feel like one or two more pumps will send you over the edge, just think about how much you hate laundry.”

“Okay.”

“Alright, let’s do this!” he says, grabbing his computer and a pillow and plopping them down on one side of the futon. I follow suit, and can see him stripping out of the corner of my eye. I make a point not to look, then get over it and turn around with my things. He’s already laying out on the futon, computer sitting on his lap and covering his crotch, surfing for porn. I pull off my shirt and then drop my pants and he looks up.

“Shi-i-it! I almost forgot I was jerkin’ it next to Mr. Ed today!”

I laugh. “Please don’t call me ‘Mr. Ed,’ it’s demeaning.”

“Fine. Now you’re Seabiscuit. And don’t think I can’t Google more famous horses, because I can.” We laugh, and I sit down in the same position he is in, facing him. His feet are about at my navel, and he puts his computer down just past my feet on his end. He’s already growing, and he’s rubbing his dick to get it fully hard. I find some good porn and look up at him. He’s fully hard, stroking his cock up and down, eyes glued to his computer screen with an earbud in his ear. I’m surprised to see he has a ridiculous mushroom head on the end of his stick, it must be twice as thick as the rest of his shaft.

“Fuck, dude! That thing looks like a lollipop!”

“Don’t get any ideas, gay boy,” he says with a laugh. I get ideas, though. Not that I’d act on them, just that it looks really hot. And it was really hot thinking about sucking on a penis that’s 50% head. My dick is already stiff, and I’m thinking maybe I won’t have to look at that porn I pulled up after all. I’m staring at him when he looks up at me, so I avert my eyes less-than-casually. He didn’t notice though. “Whoa, that thing really does get huge, huh?” he says, gazing at my dick as I stroke it with both my hands. “Lube?”

“Uh, I have some lotion in my drawer if you want me to get it,” I say, sitting up.

“Lotion? What are you, 14? Jeez,” he says and stands up, walking over to his desk, dick bobbing with each step. He slides a box out from under it and pulls out a clear bottle. “This is real lube. Have you ever used real lube?” I shake my head. “Well, it’s awesome.”

“Is that just a giant box of lube you pulled that out of?” I ask as he squirts a giant glob onto his palm.

“More of a toy box.”

“Like, sex toys?”

“Mostly, like, masturbation sleeves and the like. My mom runs a website where they sell sex toys,” he tells me as he leans forward and hands me the bottle. “They make them too, but most of their business is in selling. She gets a bunch of stuff for me.”

“Like, fleshlights and stuff?”

“Similar, yeah.” The “yeah” comes out stretched out and moan-y as he rubs his globule of lube into the ridiculous head of his dick. I squeeze some out into my hand and get ready to follow suit. I take a little more than he does, for size reasons, obviously.

“Ya know, I tried using a Fleshlight once, but it was too tight and it really hurt.”

“Was it like, the super tight version or something? Maybe you didn’t use enough lube.”

“I don’t know for sure, it, well, it’s a long story.” He laughs at me and I hand him back the bottle. I take the huge gob and rub it over my hands. It feels a little sticky, so I’m not really sure how it works. The lotion always rubbed into my hands a little, but I used a lot, so it didn’t absorb.

I grasp my shaft near the top with my right hand and directly below that with my left, and slide my hands down. I gasp and tilt my head to the side a little, this felt better than I was expecting. “Slippery.” That cracks Vance up, but I’m not paying attention anymore. I’m just going with the flow, my hands sliding up and down my dick like this takes masturbating to a fun new level. I give out a little moan.

“Careful!” Vance tells me. “Don’t forget about the laundry! Take your time.” I’m glad he said something, because I was totally distracted. I slow down as he suggested.

Before we started, Vance told me he didn’t expect this session to last more than an hour because he was so horny. Two hours later, we’re still going pretty strong. I’ve been ready to go 6, 7 times. Maybe more, I lost count. I started getting good at edging, I think, but it’s gotten harder (hehe) as I’ve gone. Although Vance and I talked further while we were working, the conversation died down quite a bit after a few minutes, and was nonexistent after we hit the one hour mark except for the occasional request for more lube. Our friendship had turned to animosity around the turning over of the second hour, knowing that without the competition with the other we’d both have reached orgasmic bliss long ago.

“This has to end,” Vance said, breathless and sweaty.

“Then stop fighting it,” I answer, just as out of breath, and maybe even more slick with sweat.

“No, I’m supposed to win! You’ve never even rode the edge before, how can you have this kind of stamina? This... will? FUCK!”

“Sorry, I’m not giving up though. I want to, God, do I want to, but I even less want to wash this sheet that we’re sweating through.”

“Fuck, I need to come so bad,” he moaned, and started thrusting his hips against his pistoning hands. Seeing this got me close. SO close. TOO close. I took my hands off my dick, but I was still throbbing with pleasure. I could feel my hands being drawn back to my dick as it screamed out for orgasm. I let out a little squeak and arched my back, pulling my hands away again as they creeped closer. I was a little afraid my muscles were going to cramp up I was squeezing so hard. A huge drop of pre-cum welled up out of my dick as I watched. I was hypnotized, I needed to grab it and finish the job, but somehow, I held off. I couldn’t blow right as he was losing control.

“Oh, yeah,” I say, egging him on, once I caught my breath. “Shoot it. Shoot your big load. Make a mess. Get it everywhere, oh, it’s so hot.” I’d have gone on, but every little caress I give my own dick sends me into that trance state - my eyes rolling back and my ass lifting off the futon as I pull my muscles tight. I feel ridiculous trying to dirty talk Vance into cumming, but I think it’s working. He squeezes his eyes shut and starts rubbing one hand in a circular motion, rubbing and swiping over the head of his dick. One of his legs is braced on the floor off of his side of the futon, but the other is up against me. He kicks, and his curled toes bounce off the side of my stomach, and his foot lands on my abs. His body gives a few more convulsions before he even starts shooting.

When he does get going, it’s easily the biggest load of cum I’ve ever seen in my life. The first seven or eight spurts come fast and shoot over his head and hit the floor or his desk somewhere behind him. He’s moaning “uh, uh, UH, uh, UH” with every spasm. He continues pumping it out onto his face and chest for at least another 15 seconds. It runs off his face in streams and drips down onto his neck. Finally he finishes with a heavy sigh, but keeps milking his dick.

“FUCK!”

“So do I win?” I ask. I’m pretty sure I did, but I’m gonna hold off as long as possible, which, admittedly, isn’t very long now. Especially after the show I just witnessed.

“Yes, happy? You’re a fucking sex god,” he says with exasperation. “Not only do you get the giant horse dick, you get the stamina of a fucking... I don’t know!” He keeps milking his dick, which makes these squishing sounds, and staring at me with intense dissatisfaction.

After hearing him call me a sex god, though, everything else just turned into the “whah, whah, waaaah,” of Charlie Brown’s teacher. I was gone, lost in the self-controlled lust that I’d created, and pushed over the edge by seeing a ridiculous cumshot (Live at that!) and being told I was special.

At last I rode over the crest of the wave, fully giving into the trance I was was almost pulled into before. It started with a light touch, just a graze, really, but I knew I couldn’t hold off after that. I grabbed and pumped and felt my muscles start to contract. It was amazing. The first spurts of semen were so large, and left the head of my dick in such rapid succession that they gave the illusion that I was just pissing jizz. I know in the past I’ve described cumming at a “rapid fire” pace, but that was before I knew what was fully possible. The spasms came so quickly that I lost count, but it felt like a ridiculous number. I had never experienced anything like it before. When I reached the point where I felt my orgasm had been going on long enough, it just continued. I never even have enough time to form thoughts while I’m cumming, it’s over so quickly, but this just kept going, and going, and going.

When it finally finished, I had splashed cum all over myself and onto the floor behind me. It had been a week since I last came, and I’d been storing it up. I felt it dripping off my chin onto my chest. I was drenched. We’re definitely going to have to mop up later, but once my dick started getting soft I felt just how exhausted I was.

“Shower?” Vance said.

“Sleep.”

“No, dude, you have jizz, like, all over your hair. And not just your hair. You have to get a shower. Let’s go,” he says, pulling me up from the futon. His first attempt at grabbing my hand was a failure due to the leftover lube residue, but we managed. We left a couple of nasty sweat stains where we were laying. Grabbing towels, the two of us got ready to head out the door.

“Dude, shouldn’t we, like, clean up a little first?” I ask.

“Why?”

“Because we’re a couple of guys leaving to go to the shower covered in jizz...”

“What? You afraid people will think you’re gay?”

“No, just that people will think we’re... I don’t know... gross.”

“No one will be out there.” And he was right. We showered, maybe for a little longer than it would normally take us, being as sticky as we were. We got back to the room and went to bed right away. It was a little early for us, but we were both exhausted from the multiple rounds of physical exertion we had endured throughout the day.

Lying in bed, I call across the room: “Don’t call me a sex god anymore. The horse stuff, Seabiscuit and all that... whatever. Just don’t call me a sex god, it’s weird.”

“It was meant as a compliment. You have a huge dick, and balls. You shoot gallons. Then, on top of that, you can last all night.”

“Yeah, but what kind of sex god is a virgin? I mean, come on.”

“You’re not a virgin!” he says, laughing.

“I told you, I can’t find anyone who’ll... ya know.”

“No... no, I don’t think you understand. Virginity is a concept, not a physical rule. At least, in common usage anyway. You don’t need anal penetration to lose your virginity. And if you’re going to go by the letter of the definition, you have to have sex with a woman to lose it. But, in common terms, you’re far from a virgin. You’ve definitely had sex, dude. I mean, I saw you, and you’ve told me about other times. Blow jobs, etc, it all counts. Not that it should matter, anyway. Virginity is just a stupid status symbol, you have nothing to worry about!”

“I never thought about it like that.”

“Well, I did. Let’s go to sleep.” So I do, although I’m worried about the fact that I didn’t do my homework.

In class the next day, once we’re all seated, our professor asks, “Were you all surprised that it was so different from the movie?”

Shit
 

oldbrownshoe52

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Ya, it's always good. Believable as i said before and well written, in a straight forward way, making it easy and enjoyable to read. I feel like a critic haha don't listen to me just keep doing what your doing, and thanks for doing it.
 

UROC1991

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Chapter Six

The afternoon following the silent sit through my literature class discussion on The Shining was my first football practice. I was sure that no one really takes it too seriously. We would just be running around throwing a football back and forth. Seeing as I’m the kicker on a division-three team, I expected it to be a cakewalk. It was not a cakewalk.

We ran (a lot), did drills, and simulated games. This was on top of my personalized workout of kicking about a million practice field goals and another million kickoffs. Then the coach had me practice live tackling. Why, you may wonder, do I have to bother tackling? Coach explained it best:

“This team sucks, let’s be honest. Say you kick off to start the game and you’re surprised to see that the other guy has not-so-miraculously made it past our elite squad and is headed for the end zone. You’re the last line of defense and you need to stop him. What do you do?

“Option A: Run away and give him all the space he needs. You’re not allowed to do this.
Option B: You’ll trip him. Too bad he actually knows what he’s doing and hurdles you and you fall flat on your face. You’re so embarrassed you go back to your dorm and hang yourself from your bunk bed.
Option C: You go in for the tackle head first. Did I mention this guy is 6-4, 230? He crushes you and you break your neck. You’re paralyzed from the neck down for life, but at least he didn’t score.
Or Option D: You tackle him the right way and make the highlight reel because you’re a kicker who can tackle. We win the game, you get all the girls (I decided to stay in the closet with the team, at least until I test the waters a little). We’re gonna stick with Option D because that’s the only one in which we win the game, got it?”

Coach failed to mention how much tackling hurts. Even in pads. I’m battered and bruised, exhausted from the cardio, and my legs can barely hold me up. This is all before we hit the weight room. Most of my lifting involves machines where I push and pull with my legs, but of course they have me work my core and upper body as well. I’m there a little later than most guys since it’s my first day and they need to teach me how to do everything. God forbid I get a little break.

When practice finally ends we go into the locker room to shower. I’m practically dead on my feet, but I appreciate that I don’t get too many guys staring at the freakish appendage between my legs. I lean against the wall and let the hot spray of the shower do its work on my muscles, then I dry off and walk into the locker room at-large with the towel around my waist. I limp to a bench and lay down on it on my back, noticing that after my extended stay in the shower that the room is mostly empty. I close my eyes.

“You okay fresh meat?” comes a voice from above my head after I’m laying there for a few minutes.

Without opening my eyes, “honestly, I’ve been better.”

“You’re Ricky, right?” he asks. “I’m Jack.” My eyes are open now in a squint and I can see he’s holding his hand out to me.

Yeah, I know who you are. Mark Jackson. All-star quarterback, senior, frat boy, and all around stud with an abnormally hairless chest. A tall glass of sexy with sandy brown hair and blue eyes.

Instead of that, though, I say, “nice to meet you,” and shake his hand.

“You want a massage? You look like you could really use one.”

“Uh...”

“It’s okay, I’m trained. I’m finishing up my degree to be a personal trainer, one of the elective tracks I took was on massage therapy.”

“We offer that kind of stuff here?”

“Yep. It comes in handy for the team, too. They even bought a massage table for the locker room so I could help out with sore teammates. So what do ya say?”

This guys wants to give me a massage? I’ve never even had a massage before. I really could use some relief, though, my everything is killing me.

“Sure, why not?” I answer and stand up slowly. He leads me to a room just off the main locker room. It has just a massage table in the center along with a set of shelves stocked with bottles against the wall. I sit down.

“Don’t be so nervous, I give massages to guys on the team all the time. I hate seeing people in pain. Don’t worry, it’ll feel good,” he says, grabbing some bottles off of the shelf.

I’m sure it will feel good. I’m worried that it’ll feel too good.

I take his advice and try to relax, laying down with my face in the doughnut at the head of the table. He turns around and sees me and says, “you can lose the towel, if you want. I’m gay, not a rapist.”

“Oh! You’re gay too?” I blurt out without even thinking.

“Too?” he asks, then he puts it together. I turn and can see the look of comprehension on his face the moment it happens. And I was trying to stay in the closet! I guess if we have a gay QB, though, it isn’t as big of a deal as I had thought. “Oh, you’re gay! My gaydar is usually better than that, sorry. You can still lose the towel if you’re comfortable with it, it’s no big deal.”

I do as he suggests again, but I’m good enough to hide my cock from him. Hopefully I can do that for the whole session, but for some reason I doubt it. I’m laying on my stomach and I have my soft cock pressed into my abs. It really feels great just to lie down. He begins rubbing oil on my shoulders.

“So, that ‘I’m gay, not a rapist’ line works? You can just drop that and anyone you want to massage gets naked?” I ask. I wanted to break the awkward silence after I accidentally outed myself.

“It’s pretty foolproof so far. It combines reassurance with unintentional homophobic guilt. The guys, in most cases, want to prove that they are tolerant, so they strip with no problem.”

“How... diabolical,” I say, and he chuckles.

“So, what hurts the most?”

“Oh, man. Is ‘everything’ an acceptable answer?” he laughs. “I’ve never played football before, and I’ve never had to do anything this demanding.”

“You’re gonna need to be more specific than ‘everything,’ sorry,” he laughs again.

“My legs, I guess, are killing me the most.”

“Oh, yeah, kicker. I should have assumed that,” he says as he switches from my shoulders to my calves. “So, you’re a freshman, right? How are you finding college so far?” The small talk isn’t seeming too forced.

“Well, I guess it’s been going pretty well. My roommate is awesome. Classes are okay, but I’m already falling behind on homework.”

“Homework isn’t that important, as long as you pass. C’s get degrees, they say.” He’s moved up to work on my hamstrings, and I can feel myself loosening and some of my pain easing.

“It’s cool that I got on the football team. It hurts, but I like being involved in something, ya know? Bill actually helped me get here, he’s my RA.”

“Oh, he’s the man! Maybe a little reckless to be an RA, but he’s gonna be a great friend for you guys. Ok, flip over and let me work on your quadriceps.”

Shit

I do roll over as he says, trying not to show too much hesitation. An elongated “whoa” escapes his mouth and I cringe a little bit. “Don’t make a face, man! Be proud! You’ve got a nice fucking dick!”

“Thanks,” I answer after a short pause. I’m doing my best to think of other things and not get aroused. This gets increasingly difficult as he’s rubbing his oily hands on my hairy thighs. I squeeze my eyes shut as I feel it getting bigger and bigger and starting to stand up. Before a minute is up, my cock is pointing up towards me, laying against my stomach, as I try to divert blood elsewhere however I can. I can feel my cheeks grow hot with a little bit of shame, but that’s not enough.

“Don’t look that way. If you were the first guy to get a boner while I was oiling up this close to their crotch, I’d be doing it wrong. Your reaction is normal. Just relax.”

“You know how they say to think about baseball when you’re trying to avoid getting a boner? That never seems to work for me.”

“Because baseball players are hot?”

“Exactly!”

“Yes, I know exactly what you mean. I call it The Joe Mauer Paradox.”

“It’s Chase Utley for me.” We chuckle a little, but the tension isn’t exactly broken. I’m still throbbing hard, and he’s rubbing higher on my legs than before. He’s even brushed against my balls a couple of times.

Before long, he’s rubbing the very tops of my thighs, where they start to meet my abs. “You know that thing is gigantic, right?” My eyes have been open since the baseball comment and he’s been staring at my dick almost without pause.

“That’s what they tell me,” I answer.

At that moment, he stops rubbing my legs and takes one oily finger and pushes on the bottom of my dick head. He makes a falsetto “boop” sound effect when he pulls back and causes my dick to bounce a little. His face immediately registers a look of regret and shock. He pulls his hands back and looks me in the eye. He says: “Well, I think I’ve done all I can.” But he means: “I can’t believe I just did that.” He continues speaking, “Do you feel a little better? You should hit the shower real quick and get the oil off of you. Don’t forget your shoulders,” and exits out the door of the massage room.

I get my shower, much more quickly this time, and I’m still trying to register the fact that Jack poked my dick when I get out. I head to my locker and get dressed awkwardly and alone. He’s waiting for me outside of the locker room when I get out and start walking out of the athletic complex.

“Sorry about that, in there,” he says.

“It’s okay. Not a big deal, really. I’m glad you were impressed, I guess.” I’m not really that comfortable with it. It was still very weird, but I’m gonna be nice.

Then, out of the blue, he asks me, “Are you doing anything tomorrow night?”

“Uh... no. Why?”

“Well, Alpha Epsilon, that’s my fraternity, we’re having our fall formal and I don’t have a date. I was wondering if you’d be interested in going?”

“Uh... sure.”

“Awesome!” he says, beaming. “Meet me outside the library at 10 tomorrow, there’s a bus to the hall. I’ll text you more info. I’m sure I’ll see you at practice, but just in case we don’t get a chance to talk, ya know?” and he bounds off.

Did that really just happen? Am I dead? This has to be the hottest guy on campus, one of them anyway, and my luck is that he’s gay! And he just asked me to a formal? This might be the best day ever!

I get back to my dorm and throw open the door to our room with a flourish. “Things are hap-pen-ning!” I sing, pronouncing each syllable of the last word with a flourish.

“Careful, your gay is sho-ow-ing,” Vance says, mimicking my tone.

I ignore him, I can barely contain my excitement. “I’m going on a date with the team’s quarterback! Tomorrow night!”

“Slut.”

“I’m not a slut! He asked me on a date, we didn’t fuck.”

“Did he ask you on a date before or after he saw you naked?”

“...Shut up!” and he just laughs. He probably did only ask me out because he saw my dick. Oh well, I’m in the door now, and that’s what matters. I have make sure I’m ready for tomorrow, so I start pulling out my clothes. I don’t really have any formal attire, but I’m getting close to something appropriate when I get a text.

Mark Jackson (8:25PM, Sep 7): So... I forgot to mention it’s black tie. Are you gonna be able to manage that? Did I give you enough notice?

Me (8:26PM, Sep 7): Uh... I’ll get back to you

“Do you happen to have a tux?” I ask Vance.

“You seriously need to wear a tuxedo on your first date?”

“It’s for his frat’s formal.”

“Jesus Christ!”

“Is that a ‘no’ on the tux, then?”

“Yeah, I don’t have one... but I have an idea of how you can get one.”

“For tomorrow?”

“Trust me. Are you ready to leave and get fitted? We can borrow Bill’s car.”

“I guess... Please explain,” but he ignores me and picks up his phone. He flicks his finger around on the touch screen and puts the phone up to his ear.

“Hi, I have a problem,” he says into the phone. “No. ... Yes, my friend is a pallbearer in a funeral tomorrow night and he needs a tuxedo. ... Yes, I’ll wait,” he turns and smiles at me. I just shake my head and smile. “Hi, did she explain the situation to you? … Okay. … Yes, we can be there in 30 minutes. Thank you so much!” He hung up and turned to look at me, a satisfied smile on his face.

“You are definitely a terrible person.”

“What?”

“This guy is probably gonna work overtime to make me a suit! For a fake funeral! And how much is it gonna cost me?”

“You can’t put a price on a date with the star quarterback!”

“Seriously, how much?”

“QUARTERBACK!” he yells and runs out the door, presumably to go borrow Bill’s car.

Me (8:35PM, Sep 7): I think I got it covered, man.

Mark Jackson (8:36PM, Sep 7): Awesome! Skinny ties are in, btw.