All Male College, 1957

[DavidXL]

Let me know what you think. How's the pace? Too much detail? Enough action?

All Male College, 1957

I had the terrible feeling I had made a disastrous mistake that was too late to fix. Now that I had arrived at Middlebury to start my freshman year of college, I felt a rising sense of panic that I should have gone to NYU instead of this small, preppy college in the mountains of rural Vermont. The thought of living amidst the grit and tumult of Greenwich Village had scared the suburban Connecticut 18 year old kid in me who had grown up surrounded by expansive green lawns and shady trees. Now, at this moment, the thought of living in the middle of nowhere with all of these college aged young men – and no co-eds – scared me even more.

I stood in the window in the second floor student lounge and looked down through the panes of glass at the curb below. My father opened the passenger door of the car for my mother. It was her ’55 Ford Country Squire station wagon, the model with the wood-paneling on the sides. The way-back was now empty. The books and clothes and winter jackets and starched sheets that had shared the ride with me were now neatly arranged in my dorm room upstairs. My mother hesitated for a moment as my father held the door for her and said something to him I obviously could not hear. Would they look up at the building and search for my face? Would they give me one last wave good-bye? How could they leave me here?

Only a few minutes ago, I just wanted them to hurry up and go with the hordes of other parents who had dropped off their sons and left without fanfare. I had been eager to rip off the bandage of their departure so that I could get on with the new life that awaited – and terrified – me. Now, at this moment, I wanted nothing more than to get back in the car with them and return to West Hartford, the place from where I had wanted to escape for as long as I could remember.

My mother checked her hair in a hand mirror she pulled out from her purse. My father flicked his cigarette butt on the sidewalk. He looked up at the sky as if he were a pilot about to climb aboard a plane and fly it away. He lit another cigarette and got in the car. They did not look up at me for one last wave or one last look at their only son. Instead, they sped off without looking back, and I was left only with the memory of our awkward farewell.

“Good luck, son,” my father had said as he had shaken my hand.
My mother had pressed an imaginary crease on the lapel of my blue blazer and straightened my tie. “Your father and I are very proud of you.”
“Yes, Mother.” I had responded with an ersatz formality I had summoned from deep inside, because I thought the situation and my parents were calling for it. The forced stoicism all seemed so ridiculous. The sad part of it is, I desperately wanted to be hugged and held by both of them, if even just briefly. I am a different kind of parent than mine were and would have hugged me tight if I had been them. But, back in 1957 when I was 18 and starting college, parents were afraid their sons would turn into fairies if they showed them too much affection.

The truth was, my biggest fear was that I just might be a fairy. That thought terrified me to my core, more than the fear that the Russians would drop an atom bomb and start a global thermonuclear war. Yes, I genuinely liked girls. I had even creamed in my pants as I finger-fucked Alison, my girlfriend, just last weekend. It had been in the back seat of the Ford Woody that had just whisked away my parents and my former life. Surely, that meant I wasn’t a fairy or a homosexual or a gay or a fruitcake or whatever people called people who shared some of the same feelings that people like me sometimes have, right?

It was also the truth that Alison had a diabolical way of stringing me along to the point of my extreme sexual frustration, but never giving me exactly what I wanted or needed when I wanted or needed it. For someone who was bored by baseball, she marked the boundaries of her sexual limits with bases, and it was pretty clear to me that she was protecting “home base” for as long as she could. The pattern was simple. First, we would kiss. Then, I would spend a few minutes rubbing my hand against the rigid wire undercarriage of her bra. She would pretend to resist by whispering me for me to stop while kissing me even harder.

After she dispensed with the faux resistance, she would let me go to second base. I would unhook her bra and release her large, but firm breasts. I would bury my face in them and savor the cool smoothness against my face. I would suck her nipples until they were hard and wet from my tongue. My cock throbbing like a hound at a tether, I would press against her and move my hand to reach under her dress.

Sometimes, she would reach down and give my boner a squeeze. The first time she had felt it, she had gasped. I had never seen a hard cock other than my own. But, I knew from my furtive knowledge of The Kinsey Report, that the 7 ½ inches I have is bigger than average and that I should be proud of the handful that I have going on. I would continue to press my rod against her while we kissed, each time hopeful there would be more. Then, invariably, she would stop me, and I knew she meant it. The passion would ebb from my body and brain. Soon my boner would subside, my balls still aching. I would drive her home, the silence laden with my sexual frustration.

This past weekend, however, she let me take matters further than she had all summer. She let me unbutton the top button of her jeans and let me slide my hand down through the top of her underwear. In the darkness, I slid my middle finger over the wetness while she moaned quietly. She did not put up any pretense of resistance or tell me to stop as I lingered on third. It felt so warm and wet and good. I was sure I was about to slide into home base.

“Maybe at Thanksgiving, if you still love me,” she had said. “We’re both going away to college, and we are both only 18.” I kissed her and continued to slide my finger over her wet slit and gently inside her. That was the most hope I had ever been offered of losing my virginity. My cock throbbed even harder in my khakis in a way that seemed to match my pulse. The more I kissed her and slid my finger over the slippery opening of her pussy, the more aroused I became. My hips moved back and forth in a slow grinding motion against her leg. Soon, I felt that all-too-familiar feeling and knew I was passing the point of no return.

There was no hope and no thought of stopping it. That churning, rushing, dizzy feeling came over me, and I was shooting burst after burst of warm semen into my underwear. I stifled a moan, because I was embarrassed at what was happening. I was afraid Alison would be repulsed and think I was a pervert. My breathing increased, but otherwise I did little to give away what happened. My cock was a pulsing, gooey mess, and I hoped the mess wouldn’t leak through my pants. In the darkness, there was no way to tell. I didn’t care. It felt too good.

I pulled up in front of Alison’s house, which was dark. We kissed again, and she said how close she felt to me. I said I felt the same way. I held her hand as we walked up the pathway to her door in the darkness and made plans to see each other at Thanksgiving. Just before we reached the porch steps, the lights at the front of the house suddenly snapped on and blazed the steps with blinding brightness.

In an instant, the front door opened, and there was Alison’s father. He smiled disingenuously. He was always polite to me, but not-so-deep down, I know he despised me. In his mind, I was not the responsible college boy next door with the bright future. I was just some guy who wanted to fuck his daughter. He had just started to ask how our evening was when he stopped mid-sentence. He had caught sight of the shameful semen stain that was now the size of a slice of baloney across the crotch of my rumpled khakis. My stomach lurched in fear and I placed my hand on the wet stain. But it was too late, and the stain was too big to hide.

His eyes narrowed to slits. “Good night, Jack. Good luck at Dartmouth.” He pulled Alison inside and slammed the door shut.

“Actually, it’s Middlebury,” I muttered to myself as I walked back to my car, wondering how I could ever face either of them again.

I was really horny for Alison and desperately craved for more than she was giving me. But, my other undeniable truth was that I also liked men. It scared and confused me to think that as much as I ached to distraction for pussy, I also had the “devious homosexual tendencies” you would sometimes read about in psychology text books or in newspaper articles about police raids of bars that catered to the homosexual. If I was your normal, clean cut, wholesome boy next door, why did I sometimes have the abnormal, deviant desire to look at and maybe even touch a guy’s cock, preferably a big one? It had never happened yet. But, as I looked at all of these undeniably good looking guys who would be my classmates for the next 4 years, could I trust myself to keep those thoughts safely to myself?

 

[DavidXL]

Thanks, everyone, for reading and for the feedback. Here's the next chapter. Again, please let me know if you have any comments about pace, subject matter, detail, etc.

Chapter 2: My First Glimpse of Dusty and the Gang Shower (M/M)

I wasn’t sure what to do with myself. It seemed already that some of the guys had met other guys in the dorm and had become fast friends, even though none of us had been here for more than an hour or two. My parents had been gone only minutes, and I hadn’t met anyone yet. I was acutely conscious of being . . . alone. Back in West Hartford, I had a wide circle of friends I had known my entire life. I had never lived anywhere else and had grown up with the same people to the point that the familiarity that enveloped me had become stifling. That was a big reason why I had been so eager to leave. Another reason was that I had the feeling that bigger things in life were meant for me outside of Central Connecticut, and I couldn’t start living the rest of my life until I left and started living it. Now that I was getting what I wished for, however, I couldn’t help but wonder if what I had back home wasn’t so bad after all.

I tried to shake the negative thoughts from my head. I knew I had to. I realized that my life from this moment forward was at a new starting block and I needed to steel myself for the challenge. Otherwise, I would be left behind. I took a deep breath.

I went back up to my floor and stopped in to take a leak in the bathroom at the end of the hall. Inside, the walls were covered with the wide glazed brick tiles that were a “hospital green” color you don’t see much anymore except in old institutional buildings. Even at my age, my cock stirs at the memory whenever I am in an older building and see that same tile. There was a row of sinks against one wall, a row of urinals against another, a row of stalls against the other and an opening off in the corner that lead to the shower room with which I would later become well-familiar. You couldn’t fully see into the showers unless you stuck your head inside, but it was a rectangular room with 8 shower heads. It was a gang shower, of course, with no curtains. There never were back then. I thought abstractly that that was where I would be showering with my floor mates. I had the fleeting image of what the shower room would look like when all of the shower heads were in use and spraying water everywhere over the nude bodies of the young men I had not yet met. I shook my head. “Stop it,” I thought and dispatched that image.

I could hear the sound of one shower head in use. It struck me as an odd time to be taking a shower, since most of the other freshmen were still arriving and there were still parents on the floor. But, I didn’t pay it much attention, and the thought left my head.

I unzipped my pants and pulled my cock out at the urinal and started to go. I hadn’t gone since right before breakfast at the inn with my parents, several hours ago. Until now, I hadn’t realized how badly I had to go. I closed my eyes and savored the delicious sense of relief as my bladder drained in a strong, steady stream. After a few moments, I looked down to enjoy the relaxed, elongated look of my cock as I peed. While I waited to finish, I gently rubbed my thumb across the thick vein that ran along the length of the topside of my cock. I have since received many comments not just about that vein, but my cock in general. I know it must sound kind of weird, and apologies for the immodesty, but I know I have a big, good-looking cock, and I like to look at it in every form. Hard. Soft. In-between. Like every 18 year old, it was an endless source of fascination that I had spent hours exploring.

Finally, I finished. I shook my cock dry and was careful to splatter the remaining drops of piss in the urinal instead of on the front of my khakis. I sighed audibly and was relieved to be relieved. At just about the same time I flushed, I could hear the shower turn off. I couldn’t see who was inside the shower room, but I wondered who would be emerging and whether I might get to see his cock. “Stop it,” I told myself again. “Stop it.”

As I was at the sink washing my hands, I heard a friendly, “Hello.”

I turned around to see who had said it. The word “Hello” was on my lips, but it lingered there for a beat or two as I took in the sight before me. I caught myself and said, “Hello” again, forcefully this time, in case I had swallowed the word the first time and not been properly heard.

“The name’s Dusty McCaffrey,” he said.

It was almost overwhelming to behold the sight in front of me. Dusty was nude, unabashedly and unprovocatively toweling himself off at the entrance of the shower room. About twenty years later, a motion picture called “The Blue Lagoon” would be released starring an actor named Christopher Atkins who bore an uncanny resemblance to Dusty, except in my recollections, Dusty was hotter. Dusty was about 6’1” with a lean, cut, v-shaped torso. He had ringlets of curly hair that were multiple shades of blond naturally bleached by summers in the sun. His hair was by no means long by today’s standards, but long for the times back then in 1957 and not what you would often see in New England. His eyes were the deepest, warmest cerulean blue. It was hard not to be swallowed up by them and forget what you were saying. It was not just his looks, however, that made him so compelling. There was something more. There was an aura about him that transcends looks. It’s hard to pinpoint exactly what it was. His smile? The warmth in his eyes? The intensity and curiosity in the way he carried himself and interacted with others? His uncommon decency? Whatever it was, the whole package was something you almost never encountered in one person.

“Hi, Dusty. Jack Benson,” I said. “Nice to meet you.”

“You’re from West Hartford,” he said. My face asked “How could you know that?” before my mouth could. “I’m the resident advisor,” he said. “I recognized your name from my list. I’m a senior and live on the floor. I’m here to help keep order on the floor,” he said with a knowing smirk. “But, also to help out if you ever have any problems with anything or just need someone to talk to.”

“Great,” I said. Great was right. Dusty was one of the most incredibly handsome young men I had ever seen before. I couldn’t believe how casual he was about being nude, especially in front of me. In the starkest of contrasts, I was still dressed in my khakis, with a blue blazer, buttoned-down shirt, and repp tie. Dusty’s naked body was mostly smooth, except for a dark brown treasure trail that bisected his abs and lead south in the direction I most wanted to take my eyes, but didn’t yet dare. When you are what I am, you are careful to look at what your body aches for you to look at without being noticed. You develop excellent peripheral vision. You go undercover and collect stolen glances. But, even all that never fully satisfied the hunger that those who are like me know of.

“Where are you from?” I asked. He started to towel those curly blond locks. I had my moment and seized it as he covered his scalp. Good Lord! His cock was long and thick and spongy. It was just as beautiful as he was, if not more so. It bounced with confidence from side-to-side as he dried his hair. He was clip-dicked with a broad brown band around the middle of it that suggested to me that while he certainly wasn’t hard, he wasn’t completely soft either. It made me wonder what had gone on in the shower while I had been taking a leak. Or whether this was all for my benefit. The head was a smooth, shiny helmet that was perfectly proportioned with the rest of his cock. If I had to wager a guess, I’d say he was definitely about 5 inches long at that moment and would have had to have been at least 7 to 8 inches hard. The memory of that first sighting of his nude body and truly glorious cock is seared into my memory. I have never forgotten it after all of these years, and it will be with me until I take my last breath.

“Where am I from? Orange County, California,” he said. “My family grows oranges.” It’s hard to believe it now, but back then, Orange County was mostly agricultural. It was mile after mile of nothing but orange groves and people like Dusty’s family growing them. “I’m sunkissed,” he said.

“That explains the nice tan you have going on there.”

He smiled that smile of his, the one that pulls you in and doesn’t ever let you out. “Hey, thanks,” he said, patting the well-defined line that marked the golden hue of his flat, tanned belly with the stark whiteness of his thighs and pubic region. Because he patted that non-imaginary line, I granted myself the right to take another look at what my mind ached for my eyes to devour and took a longer look at that jiggling pendulum between his legs.

“My family has a bungalow, for weekends and vacations, in this little town called Laguna Beach. Have you ever heard of it?’

I shook my head, no. My mouth was dry. I licked my lips, not with desire, but because I was afraid I might not be able to speak otherwise.

“Not many people have,” he continued. “I get down there every chance I get when I’m not helping out on our orange grove. I love it in Laguna. It’s small and peaceful and quiet. At night, in bed, you can hear the crash of the waves. I surf all summer. It’s my favorite place on earth.”

My eyes met his. His smile was warm, not leering. He had moved close enough to shake hands, but not close enough to suggest any kind of an invitation. “It’s real nice to meet you,” I said.

“Same to you,” he said. I grabbed another quick glance at his glorious cock. Suddenly, the door to the bathroom opened, and Dusty took that instant to wrap his towel around his waist and remind me to show up for dorm orientation in the second floor lounge later that afternoon.

“You remind me of somebody,” he said as he turned to leave. “I’m just not sure who.”

“I get that a lot,” I said. And it was the truth. I was not a matinee idol, but I knew my dark-haired good looks, shy smile, and the brown eyes that opened up to the depth of my soul had their appeal to people who wanted what I had. I almost always reminded someone of someone else, they could just not remember who. It’s as if there was a familiarity about me. I guess there are worse things to say about someone, and I always took it as a compliment.

He nodded and smiled at the same time. And then he was gone.

As luck would have it, that was the first, but certainly not the last time I saw his cock. I can still see it in my mind as I type these words. I later asked Dusty if he had known what he was doing to me at that moment. He had laughed and said he hadn’t known for certain, but he had been damn sure he had wanted to make a good impression. I didn’t know it yet, but I had just met one of the most extraordinary people, both inside and outside, that I would ever meet in my whole life. Years later, when I was watching that silly, little movie, “The Blue Lagoon,” I would break down weeping in the middle of it and have to leave the theater at the memory of Dusty. But, that was years later. Back at that first meeting, I was thinking only for the short term that this impossibly handsome older brother type of guy was someone I wanted to get to know better.

 

[DavidXL]

[Thanks for sticking with me! This is the last part of the chapter]

My younger sister was on a week-long class trip to Washington, D.C., a fortuitous frolic for my parents, who had been prompted to sail off to Bermuda, and for me. It meant that I had the house to myself. I didn’t feel like calling up any of my old friends from high school, though I thought it rather telling that no one called me up either. I went to the movies by myself. I watched too much TV. I ordered in pizza and drank cold beers in the back yard. I ran through the house naked. I masturbated like a fiend and made a game of jerking off in every room in the freedom of the empty house. I was the happiest I had been in a while, even if my cock was raw.

The following Saturday, the day before my parents were to return, was Middlebury’s graduation. I had awoken at 3 am in a panic, my subconscious mind awhirl about Dusty even if I had had tried to convince myself that I was moving past him. The thought occurred to me that this might be the last time I would ever know with probably certainty where he was. After he graduated and left Middlebury, he could be anywhere. It was one thing knowing where he was even if he wasn’t speaking with me, it was another thing to let him go out into the broader world to live the rest of his life without me and not know where he was at all.

By 4 am, I was in my father’s 1956 Cadillac and driving to Vermont. By 7:30 am, I was having breakfast in the diner in town, the one right next to Garden of the Orient. I was wearing pressed khakis that had been wrinkled from the drive, a starched white shirt, a blue blazer, and the blue and burgundy striped repp tie that I would later give to Chris. I didn’t fully know what I was doing here. But, I knew I had to see Dusty one last time, even if from a distance.

I sat in the stands during the Commencement ceremony. I watched as Dusty received his diploma and received only light applause from the audience, a level of recognition that surprised me with its indifference given his prominence on campus. He had been popular amongst his class and had been head of the Honor Society until Dean Hoffman had taken that honor away. None of that mattered to me, of course. I stood up and gave Dusty the hearty applause he deserved. I even whistled. I wished him the best, no matter what had happened with us.

After the ceremonies had ended, the graduates clustered with their families and friends they likely would rarely see again except at reunions or if they happened to be moving to the same city. I watched from a distance as Dusty posed for photographs with his parents. He looked incredibly handsome in his cap and gown, and his parents beamed with pride. I had noticed in the Commencement ceremony’s printed program that while he had been identified as receiving his diploma magna cum laude, that he had not been included on the list of Phi Beta Kappa inductees, the only magna graduate not on the list. I could only assume that the college had not submitted him for the honor, which required the nominating institution to vouch for the nominee’s moral character.

I moved closer for a last look at him before I left, not wanting to intrude on the private moments with his family. He saw me and then looked away. I didn’t think I had any hurt left in my body, but the coldness of that gesture reawakened the caustic pain of loneliness I had tried to convince myself had been dissipating even though it really hadn’t. I turned to leave and did not look back.

“Jack! Jack!”

I had not heard that voice in so long. I turned around and saw Dusty and his parents looking at me. His mother smiled and waved. Dusty gestured for me to join them. I thought my heart would pound its way out of my chest as I jogged over to them.

“I’d like to introduce you to my parents,” Dusty said, as if the past 2 months of silence had not gone by.

His father shook my hand, and his mother did as well. “I’m Virginia McCaffrey,” she said, shaking my hand longer than she had to. “Dusty’s told me so much about you.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” I said. “I’m going to miss him.”

“You’ll have to come visit us in California,” she said. “We would love to have you.”

“Thank you,” I said, knowing that would never happen. Commencement was a tricky word that signified both an end and a beginning, but this felt like an end. I glanced over at Dusty. He smiled an uncharacteristically shy smile and looked down at his feet. He didn’t say anything.

Dusty’s mother said to Dusty’s father, “Hand me the camera, I want to take a picture of the boys.”

Dusty moved close to me and slid his arm over my shoulder, which felt like heaven. I wrapped my arm around his waist. It was the first time in two months that we had touched each other, and I ached with sadness at the sense that it would be the last.

Dusty’s mother was not what I had imagined. I had expected Doris Day, but Virginia McCaffrey was prematurely gray, and she had the sinewy limbs and sun-damaged skin that were the byproducts of years of running the family orange grove in Southern California. She had a kind manner about her, and I had heard from Dusty of her intelligence and desire that he have a different, more lettered life than she had. She had poured so much of herself into her son so that he could live the dream that had been hers, and I could tell by the way her eyes followed him how much she loved him. She smiled at me, and I knew at that instant she knew who her son was and what he was to me. I smiled back and nodded in tacit acknowledgement. She raised the camera to her face and focused it on us.

“Move in closer,” she said, and Dusty tightened his grip on my shoulder.

“I am so sorry for everything,” he said in a whisper only I would hear, his voice choked with emotion.

My eyes were wet with unspilled tears at the agony of this farewell. At the end of the day, he would leave with his parents and fly back to California, and I would drive back to Connecticut. Our lives would go in different directions, and we would be separated by geography in addition to the other forces that had separated us. I thought of how the world had laid waste to our relationship and smothered what had meant everything to me. I had lost faith in so much that had mattered to me over the last half of the semester. I had been damaged in ways I knew could never be fixed, and I felt a bitterness rise up with the sadness inside me. Dusty squeezed my shoulder, and I thought of how this was the end of us. What I had forgotten at that moment was the enduring power of love and human connection. If I had fully understood that power, I would have known that as Dusty squeezed my shoulder, this was not the end of us, but only the end of the beginning.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - THE END - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

[DavidXL]

[(continued from above - yikes, huge apologies that I've been so wordy in this chapter! I hate it when people can't get to the point or say too much. If you're still reading, I really appreciate it!]

By now, I was showered and clean. I knew my new friends better. And, I had showed everyone a trick of my own. It all felt very good. Perhaps too good. I had started to feel a low-rumbling in my groin that meant a boner might be coming on. Despite the standards for uncommon openness we had all just established, a boner in the shower felt like it would be going too far. I decided now would make a good time for an exit.

In the alcove, I met Dusty, who had a towel around his waist and was ready to uncover himself and enter the shower just as the others were preparing to wrap things up and leave. We had not had a chance to speak outside of our initial introduction in the bathroom yesterday and a few words during the “getting to know you” exercises he had moderated in his role as resident advisor. He gave me a friendly hello and asked what was going on in the showers and, with a chuckle, whether it would be safe to go in. I laughed and said that it was. I had thought about Dusty a bunch since I had met him yesterday, and I am sure my face displayed my open happiness at seeing him. I felt only a passing unease that I was naked in front of him for the first time, as it seemed that I already had become used to the common nudity in the dorm. And as we spoke, I couldn’t help but notice he had stolen a quick peek at my cock that, in its early stages of tumescence, was making a good first impression. I smiled and said I’d catch him later.

After I wrapped my towel around myself and grabbed my shaving kit, I turned around and happened to catch Dusty’s eye again, as he had turned around to catch another glance of me as well. Our eyes met, each of us looking away awkwardly at having had our glances caught, and then without hesitation, we looked back at each other. Dusty and I were in the beginning stages of some kind of a connection that neither of us yet knew where it would take us. But, it was safe to say we both knew it, even if it was unspoken. We each smiled shyly without saying anything this time. Then he stepped into the shower, allowing me to steal a fleeting glance of his full, white, athletic ass before he disappeared around the corner.

I grabbed a paper towel from the dispenser by the sink and rushed back to my room before David got there. Thinking of all of the cock play and wet, naked bodies I had just seen was causing my own cock to harden. When I reached my room, I closed the door and rubbed out a quick one into the paper towel. My balls ached a bit afterwards, and my load was on the smaller side given that I had just awoken from a ball-draining wet dream less than an hour before. In the moment after I came, I closed my eyes and savored not just the fleeting moments of my quick orgasm, but also the memories of all that I had experienced since my parents had dropped me off not even 24 hours before. My head was still swirling from all that I had encountered today and since my arrival yesterday. It was so much to take in, and it is a lot to remember all of these years later. Wherever I was going, however, I liked the path I was on.

 

[DavidXL]

(continued from above - again, sorry if I've been too wordy!)

David withdrew his cock from Carol’s pussy and stood up. When he turned around, even in the low light, I could tell that David’s face was twisted with anger. But, I barely looked at his face. As he strutted towards us, I was transfixed by the image of his hefty cock, still sheathed in a Trojan with the reservoir tip, still fully engorged and jutting straight up at a 45 degree angle. It flipped left and right and left and right as he walked up to the window. In the background, Carol was crying and pulling her dress on top of her to cover her nudity. David was screaming that he was going to beat the shit out of all of us. The other guys all laughed raucously and ran. I was still horrified and transfixed by all that I had just seen, and my face was the last one David saw before he slammed the window down and whipped the curtains shut.

I caught up with guys when we reached the front side of the dorm. They were bent over with laughter. “Did you see his face?” Sasquatch said.

“His face?” Howell asked. “What about his cock? I’d give anything to have a cock that big. Did you see it sway back and forth like a metronome as he came toward us?”

I shook my head. They were fueled by alcohol and were not as vested as I was with my feelings of friendship and otherwise for David. If it had seemed funny before, it certainly didn’t now, and I was dreading the fallout that was sure to come. “This is not good,” I said.

Anthony took another swig and slapped me on the back. “Oh, lighten up, Jack. Don’t be such a pussy.”

I had had enough and not just because it’s never fun to be the only sober one in a group of people who are toasted. “I’ll catch you guys later,” I said and trudged upstairs.

Before I reached my room, I stopped at the bathroom and grabbed a paper towel from the dispenser by the sink. The events that had just unfolded had left me both uneasy at the presumed fall-out from David and exhilarated at having witnessed him fuck Carol at such incredibly close range. I was still a virgin then, had never seen a stag film, and had never seen in any pornographic magazines as close and graphic a depiction of a wet vagina getting fucked by a thick cock as I had seen through the binoculars when I watched David and Carol.

My cock was throbbing in my pants even before I reached my room. Once inside, I ripped my clothes off and threw myself on my bed without turning off the light. I was as horny and turned on as I had ever been in my whole life at having seen the live sex show that I had just seen. I started stroking my cock furiously, imagining in my mind the image of David’s apple-cheeked ass pumping up and down on Carol, his thick cock sliding in and out of her wet vagina, his unexpectedly large and hairy balls slapping against her taint.

In the delirium of my rapture, I had not heard the sounds of David’s steps in the hall or his hand on the door. It flung open and he stormed into the room. I was startled in the worst possible way. His face incandescent with rage, and he slammed the door behind him. I put my hand over my boner, but there was no hiding what I had been doing, and my hand was too small to hide really anything. I was completely naked, lying there on my back with my hand gripped around my cock in mid-stroke as he had burst into the room.

“I’m so fucking angry with you, Benson!” David said, shaking his head with disgust as he looked down on my prone and naked body and my erect cock, which, incidentally, was still fully erect and not subsiding as I might have thought it would have under the stress of being caught in such an intimate position.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “Really, I am.”

“You’re fucking, pathetic, you know that? You had a boner from the first moment I met you. You think I didn’t know what was going on when you had that blue blazer in front of you when my parents and I first arrived? You think I don’t hear you beating off night after night? I thought you and I could be friends. I even let you win today at squash so I could do something nice for you. But, I was wasting my time. I’m done. I’m going to the housing department in the morning and getting a new roommate.”

“No, wait, Dave, don’t do that,” I said, sitting up, my boner in open view, a full drop of precum leaking out of the slit of my dick hole. “I really am sorry.” I had to get some clothes on, I couldn’t right the situation if I was naked like this.

As I tried to sit up, David planted the face of palm squarely in the center of my chest and pushed me, roughly, backwards onto my bed. He ripped his jacket off and then his shirt and then his pants. I tried to sit up again, but he pushed me back, forcefully again, as he had done before.

“Is this what you want?” He asked, dropping his underwear. I was surprised to see that his cock was hard and that he still was wearing the condom he had been wearing from when he was fucking Carol.

“No,” I said. “Stop it.”

But, David didn’t listen. He unrolled the Trojan off his cock and threw it to the floor. And then he started jerking his cock furiously over me, stroking it roughly up and down. I was frozen. I wanted to sit up again, but I was powerless in the situation, which seemed to be unfolding in slow motion. It didn’t last long, however. In less than 30 seconds, a large plume of cum shot out of David’s cock. It arced through the air and landed on my chest, followed up by half a dozen more pulses of semen that landed with warm, wet splats on my stomach and my chest.

When he was done, he looked at me with disgust. He flicked his wrist and the cum that had pooled on his right hand flung through the air and landed on my face.

Then he turned out the light and crawled into bed without saying another word. At first, I was stunned at what had happened and just laid there. Once I pulled myself together, I reached for the paper towel I had planned to use to wipe up my own cum. Instead, I used it to wipe up David’s, which had splattered across my torso and my face. I know to some people, this whole experience of having David jerk off on me would be hot. But, it wasn’t to me. Not at all. David had jerked off on me in anger and contempt. He had wanted to defile me, and he had succeeded. In fact, I felt defiled in a way I never could have imagined in my life. I was shaken. I was rattled to my core. The truth was, I had a serious crush on David and now he despised me. How could we ever play squash again? How could we ever sit around our room, bullshitting in our underwear and drinking beers? How could we ever sit, knee-to-knee in the sublime silence of the library and the music of our own whispers? I felt ruined. The thought of David going to the housing office in the morning and moving out was utterly devastating to me, to say nothing of what he must think of me now. I had known all of this would go down badly, and it had. My boner subsided, and I did not jerk off. My eyes filled with tears of sadness. I closed them and lay silently in the darkness, wanting to sob, but afraid that if I did and David heard, everything would be even worse than it was. For the first time since I had arrived at Middlebury, I was despondent at the course of events and uncertain what the morning would bring. How could I ever recover from this?

 

[DavidXL]

(continued)
You’ll hear more about all of them, probably in more detail than you would ever want to. In addition to David, they formed what I described to myself as “The Magnificent 7.” During an important formative period of my life, these young men, some of them extraordinary, others just ordinary, played a pivotal role as I transitioned into manhood. I didn’t realize immediately who would be who and what I would have. It would take some time for us all to recognize a kindred spirit in each other and come together.

That evening, as we dressed to go to dinner, I had assumed that David and I would be going together to have dinner in the dining hall. I knew him the best and had not yet figured out who I had met today would become my inner circle. As we left the room, David mentioned that he had planned to meet up with his friend Mike, who had been his classmate in Potomac and lived in another dorm. He passed it off as if he had mentioned it before, though we both knew he hadn’t. There was an awkward pause for a moment, and he said, of course, I was welcome to join them.

Sure, I could understand how it might be preferable to meet up with an old, familiar acquaintance after a draining day like the one we had just had. But, I have a good sense of my surroundings, and I sensed that he wanted to go meet up with his friend, without me. I know it sounds pathetic, but my feelings were a little bruised at the presumed brush off, particularly since we had seemed to connect so well.

At the same time, Anthony (“Meat&#8221 called out from down the hall to ask if David and I wanted to join the group of guys who were heading off to the dining hall. David begged off, saying he was meeting up with his friend from his hometown. I hesitated a moment and realized I could turn right or turn left. I have a weakness of becoming too attached to people too quickly, but I also have a strong sense of self. Even then, I had a personal policy of not chasing after people unless they were chasing me right back. That’s not to say that I didn’t long for certain people to be in my life in bigger ways than they were. I looked at David, who I hoped would become my new best friend. I told him to have a good time, and I headed down the hall in the direction of the guys who had waved at us to join them while he headed off in a different direction.

My relationship with David would be a complicated one, though I must confess that I was the one responsible for the complications. For the time being, however, I was forging new pathways with new people and could not be happier that my worst fears of being alone and miserable had not been realized.

Later that evening, I would return to my room to find David already in bed, the lights off, his breathing sound and steady. I made an effort to stay quiet, and David did not stir. After I crawled into bed amongst the clean sheets spread taut, I listed for confirmation that David was asleep. When I was assured that he was, I pulled out my cock from my boxers and proceeded to jerk off into the paper towel I had seconded from the bathroom down the hall. It was a quick release, and I moaned quietly as a gentle burble of sperm exited my cock into the paper towel.

I would not learn it until David and I grew closer that he had only feigned sleep, that his eyes were open as he faced the wall, and that he had heard every rustle of my sheets as he listened to me masturbate and the moan that escaped my lips as I ejaculated. He would later admit that after I drifted off to sleep, he would jerk off for a second time, the first being shortly before I had stumbled back into the room. I would also learn that David had known exactly what I was doing with my blue blazer when he had arrived with his parents. He coined the nickname “Woody” for me, a name that has stuck with me to this day in some circles, though only that initial Magnificent 7 would know its genesis. I was exhausted and spent in every sense. My day had ended up being terrific. As I drifted quickly off to sleep, I could not help but think of how much I was looking forward to freshman year.

 

[DavidXL]

(continued. This is the end of the chapter. If you're still reading, thanks for staying with me!)

Dusty lifted his head, and I opened my eyes for the first time. That first kiss, and the intensity of the kisses that immediately followed were so electrifying and unexpected, I can honestly say anyone on the planet would be lucky to experience half of what I experienced even just once. I felt as if Dusty and I had been swallowed up into each other and melded in a way I never wanted to come uncoupled, as if I had just barely opened a door to a magical, mystical world I wanted to swallow me up and never let me leave.

I sighed heavily and I filled my lungs with air. I opened my eyes and left the magical heaven that had swallowed up me up and threatened to make me one of its own. Without having to hear the words, I knew without saying that Dusty had been in the same ethereal place I had been. He took a deep breath. He smiled the broadest, truly happiest smile you would ever want to see on another living being. He leaned in and kissed me quickly one more time on my lips, and he bore his deep, blue eyes into mine, as if our mental connection had somehow metamorphosed into a physical connection, a series of threads that connected us through thin air. My eyes bore into his eyes. Years later, when I traveled to Santorini and Corfu and would see the bluest waters of the Aegean, I would think of Dusty and the ethereal brilliance of his eyes and how the depths of the Aegean were no match for the brilliance or the depth of Dusty’s eyes.

“Is it wrong of me to confess that I wanted to do that with you from the first moment I saw you on the first day of school?” he whispered.

I stared back into those impossibly seductive eyes, the ones that had swallowed me up. I wish I could say I felt the same happiness. But, something had happened. The spell had broken, and I felt only abject naked terror. The room started spinning. I felt sick. I gulped and tried to sit up. What had I done? I had kissed a guy! It wasn’t right. I had never thought of kissing Dusty or any guy for that matter, not even David. This had all been so unexpected in a way that felt magical just moments ago. Suddenly, it felt confusing and somehow revolting at the same time.

Dusty’s eyes overflowed with understanding and concern. “Shhh,” he said, holding me tight at the very moment I felt like squirming away from the tightness of his embrace. “It’s OK. It’s OK.”

I closed my eyes again and tried to pull myself together, but it did not feel OK. At all. I felt like I might be ill. I opened my eyes and stared into his knowing, caring ones. The pleasure and I joy I had just seen in his had transformed into a probing, wariness. “You’re OK,” he said, slowly this time.

I stood up and looked at him, not with disgust, but with what I am ashamed to say was wide-eyed horror. I had kissed a guy. It was one thing to dream of jerking off with one in a harmless, adolescent way. But, it was something completely different to kiss one. And not just kiss one, but to kiss as passionately and sensuously as we just had done. And with such raw feeling. As I had said, it had never occurred to me ever that men would kiss and embrace in the way we just had. Yet, I had done it. Even my body had betrayed me, with my cock hardening and leaking pre-cum in the way it had. Is that what fairies did? Did this mean that I was a homosexual, destined to become one of those lisping pansies that were the private nightmare of everyone like me who secretly desired more from our male friends but didn’t know how to explain or even process it? It suddenly did not feel right anymore. It felt very wrong. I felt the room closing in on me. I stood up abruptly.

“I have to go,” I said.

Dusty stood up as well. “Jack, don’t go like this.”

I shook my head. “No, I’m OK,” I said, even though it was obvious I wasn’t.

I turned to the door and pulled it open. I did not look back, but I knew Dusty was at my heels. In the hallway, the light was much brighter and the air somehow felt easier to breath. Dusty grabbed my arm, insistent. “Jack, wait.”

At that moment, David exited the staircase and entered the hallway on his way to our room. My eyes met his. He froze at the sight of me and Dusty. If you were to connect the dots of where his eyes darted next and thereafter, they would form an isosceles triangle: my eyes to Dusty’s tight grasp on my forearm to Dusty’s eyes and then back to mine. At this sight of David, Dusty snapped his hand back from my arm as if he had touched a hot stove. His eyes met David’s and then looked away. David lingered for the longest of instances, surely wondering what the hell was going on. Then, he turned in the direction of our room, his back to mine.

It is hard to explain how I had gone from such utter unthinking joy to be locked in Dusty’s embrace, our mouths locked in the most heavenly coupling, to utter terror at what that embrace might mean and, truthfully, what I might be. I cannot underscore enough how different the times were back then and how the beauty we had just experienced might seem so sordid just moments later when there was no name for the feelings that had just transpired between us. It scared me to the core of my being what all of this might mean, and I wanted to get as far away from Dusty as I could possibly get.

I marched purposefully down the hall and away from Dusty without looking back. I couldn’t get away from there fast enough. I did not mean to be so cruel, I just could not help myself. If I had looked back, I quite imagine I would have seen someone who wanted to run after me, but did not dare. If I could go back through time and replay these events, I would have turned around and showed Dusty some courage so he himself would feel only goodness about what had just happened between us. But, I was sorely lacking in such courage at that moment.

I made it back to my room. David had dropped his bag of books on the floor. He looked at me without saying anything to me, and it was clear that things were still not all right between us. He stripped to his white boxers and climbed into bed and turned out the light on his side of the room. I tried to pretend that everything was normal, even though nothing felt normal. There was a loud, deafening roar inside my head. I had kissed Dusty. We had ground our boners into each other. And I had loved every moment of it. Or had I? I brushed my teeth in the bathroom and returned to the room. I stripped down to my white boxers and climbed into bed. I turned out the light.

David whispered a quiet, “Good night” that was designed to be so low that maybe I would hear it or maybe I wouldn’t. I could respond. Or not at all without consequence. At that moment, I didn’t care very much about David and whether things might be OK with us after all. What I cared about was I had just had an evening of gawking at boners in the shower and the most passionate, powerful embraces and kissing I had ever experienced in my entire life. I felt everything I had ever known about myself had somehow turned on end. In some ways, I don’t think I ever topped the power of kissing Dusty in all of my years. I had not only just kissed Dusty, I had been pawed and manhandled by him. And I had loved it. And my body had betrayed me. Yes, I had kissed a guy. I had kissed a guy! As much as it terrified me and rattled me to my core, I also must confess it had electrified me in a way that no kiss had ever done before or since. And, that terrified me even more. Looking back through time, if I could take back that kiss, I would, without hesitation. But, not for the reasons you might think. The axis of my world tilted after that kiss in ways that I could not have imagined at that moment. As much as I thought that kiss was about just me, it wasn’t. I did not yet know it, but because of that kiss, the lives of 4 people, and those that loved them, would be upended in ways I would not yet realize until they had been upended. But, that would come later. For the time being, there was no taking back that I had kissed a guy. And an extraordinary one at that.

 

[DavidXL]

(thanks for reading if you've lasted this far; this is the end of this chapter)

Freddy shrugged. “I don’t understand what the problem is.”

Dusty’s eyes narrowed. “The problem, Freddy, is that someone – or more than one person – is defecating in the toilets and not flushing. They’re leaving big messes everywhere, and Janusz is left to clean it up. It’s shameful and despicable behavior. Moreover, it appears that people are also masturbating in the stalls and leaving behind puddles of semen all over them. That’s the problem.”

At the mention of masturbating in the stalls and left-behind semen, there was a rash of stifled giggles. I felt a pang of culpability on that account, as it was something I imagine many of us had done at one point or another over the course of the fall, me included. When you are a young guy like we all were and did not always have sufficient privacy to satisfy that distracting urge to release your reservoir of sperm that were yearning to be unloaded on at least a daily basis and often more, you grabbed privacy wherever and whenever you could. Sometimes, that meant the stall. I was discreet, and getting caught was the last the thing I wanted, so I would not have shot my load onto the walls or door of the stall or left it on the floor without wiping it up. My usual MO was to shoot it straight into the bowl or else into a paper towel I held in my hand. I knew they weren’t talking about me and what I was doing, but if felt some guilt by association just the same.

What Dusty was describing, however, was something else. On at least a daily basis, someone was whacking off and blowing a load on the back of the stall door or on the seat and just walking away, leaving the mess for others to see and for Janusz to clean up along with shit-filled bowls. Moreover, there was the risk of it being seen or sat upon or brushed against, which was just plain rude, in my opinion.

Freddy shrugged, and said, “Maybe I am missing something here, but it’s Janusz’s job to clean up after us. If he doesn’t like it, maybe he should get another job.”

I was not a big fan of Freddy’s as you may have gathered already. He was a handsome, spoiled rich kid from Shaker Heights, Ohio who had be anointed with beauty and money, and he spent both of those attributes as if he had earned them. Yes, he had moments of good charm and a welcome companion to good fun. But, this wasn’t one of those.

Anthony did not think so either, because he stood up. “Shut up, Freddy. You’re being as asshole. We talked about this in the showers, and I said as much then. Cut it out.”

“How am I being an asshole?”

Freddy pointed his finger at Freddy and raised his voice an entire range of decibels. “You shut your fucking mouth right now or else I’ll shut it for you.”

Freddy crossed his arms. Anthony had effectively shut him down, and there was no further discussion. The whole situation was bizarre, and it was unsettling to think that someone in this room was engaging in such anti-social behavior, particularly when we had been asked already to stop and particularly that it had reached a level that was sufficiently serious that we had to have a formal meeting like this about it. Freddy’s disdainful questions and tone added an ugliness to a meeting that was already starting at a low point and ended up even lower. I didn’t think that Freddy had anything to do with the shenanigans in the stalls, but by trying to suggest that Janusz did not have the right to object had inflamed the situation and added to the tension. Our society is more egalitarian in many ways than it was then even if it is still far from perfect. But, it is not as acceptable now as it was then to keep the downtrodden down or reminding people of their station in life as it was then when it seemed that there was always someone trying keep blacks, Hispanics, women, homosexuals, and foreigners in their place. I hoped this was the end of it. I could tell by the anger and irritation that that had been brushed on Dusty’s and especially Janusz’s faces that it better be or else there would be more trouble.

Most everyone left for home that afternoon, including David. He looked drained and exhausted from exams, as all of us were, and was glad to be on his way home to recover. Despite the uncertainty between us, I was definitely going to miss him over break and hoped that our friendship would be reset in a positive way when the new semester started. Because this was one of the last big trading days of the year, my father was not able to drive up to get me until the next day, which was a Saturday. People like Dusty, who had cross-country flights home, would not be leaving until tomorrow as well. When Dusty and I learned of our mutually belated departure date, a stadium’s worth of bright lights lit up in each of our heads at how this presented a unique opportunity to spend the night together in the quiet of a dormitory that was otherwise empty of almost every other student. My cock stirred at the thought of the possibilities, and he broke out into an open grin at the prospect of the pleasures that would happen if we had the luxury of entire night behind a locked door. As things would turn out, our relationship was about to take a few leaps forward.

 

[AverageJim]

December 20, 2018. Just finished reading the entire story. What a roller coaster. I'd love to read more. And I confess I would like to hear that Dusty enjoyed a successful career. I never completed college so I don't have similar memories to share. But I remember having a secret crush on my best friend at an all boys High School. He was like sunshine, I wanted to be around him all the time. After graduation, he went on to college and the Navy. I stayed behind working night shift and struggling to stay awake during morning college courses as a Freshman. What I remember to this day is how much I missed him, how I couldn't utter a word of affection, and how I felt no one would understand. 1975 might be decades after the story line, but I still remember the social pressure to hide my true self. Long ago I came to terms that I'd been living a one-sided fantasy. I found a way to move carefully forward. It's been 43 years since High School graduation. Just this year, I noticed his name/link on FaceBook via a mutual friend. So I requested to be added as a Friend. I did get added. I can see he's got a beautiful wife, three daughters, and many grandchildren. I worked hard and paid attention during in-house job training. I have a made a successful career in mainframe computing. Soon, I'll retire and my partner of over 20 years and I will take more trips to the beach. 2018 is so much different from 1975 or the story time of the 50's. Young men and young women have more opportunities to be themselves but society still harbors ill will. I just hope younger struggling people hold on to HOPE and find their own truth out there.

 

[DavidXL]

Thanks again, everyone, for reading and for your comments, which I greatly appreciate. I went to college in the '80s. For some reason, I find the idea of sex in the '50s, particularly in an all-male environment, to be sexy, perhaps because my perception is that it was more forbidden then. I hope you enjoy the next chapter and please let me know what you think.

Chapter 4: A Morning Emission and a Boner

In the morning, I lingered in that nether world between sleep and consciousness, drifting back and forth between the two. I shifted in the bed from my stomach to my side and back again, not asleep, but not awake. My cock had roused itself before the rest of me, however, throbbing against the elastic of my boxers. I pressed my boner against the mattress with the weight of my body, and it surged to full hardness, straining to escape. I felt a flushness pass down from my throbbing cock to my balls and down through my taint to the pucker of my virgin hole, which tightened in tandem with each pulse of my cock. I slowly ground my boner into the bed, drifting off into a dream that I was grinding it into . . . someone. Who was it? I couldn’t tell at first. The faces and bodies were flashing by too quickly. Men, women, dicks, pussies, breasts, asses, flying cum, boners and so on. Then, the ball on the roulette wheel landed on just one: Alison, my girlfriend from back home.

It was Thanksgiving break. We were in a room bathed in white light that streamed through Venetian blinds across a gigantic bed. We were naked. She was saying she had waited months for me, that she was nervous and afraid. I said that I wasn’t, but I was. As much as I ached to lose my virginity, the thought of what might be on the other side frightened me. I said that I had missed her, that she was so beautiful to me. I leaned in and buried my face in her neck and breathed in her scent. I lifted my head up again to take in the glory of her body. I couldn’t believe how lucky I was, how great life was. Her breasts were firm and fleshy. Her body had the smooth softness that only a woman’s does. And the bottom of the triangle of black public hair pointed in the direction I most wanted to bury my cock.

“Tell me you love me,” she said.

“You know I do.”

“No, I need to hear it.”

“I love you,” I said, though even in my dream it felt wrong to say the words that seemed so sacred to me unless I knew for certain they were true. Did I love her? Even in my dream, I did not know. But, I knew I needed to say so or else I would be denied entry to the warm, wet tunnel of love that beckoned me.

I looked down at my cock. I was surprised to see that it was not the cock I knew so well. Somehow, it had surged in size from the 7 ½ inches I knew inside-and-out to what looked to be 10 inches. And so thick! How was this possible? I gave it a squeeze. Yes, it must be my cock, because I could feel it. It felt so hard and thick and heavy. It throbbed with urgency and the necessity of unloading the burgeoning torrent of sperm that demanded to be released. Pre-cum flowed from my dick hole in anticipation and glazed the head of my cock with shiny wetness.

“I need you inside me,” Alison said.

I rubbed my huge, shiny wet glans against the moistness of her vagina. Its lips spread as if to lead the way into a world I had spent countless hours dreaming of, but had never experienced. Until now.

“Wait,” she said. “It’s too big. It will never fit.”

Those words were magical for me to hear. I surged even harder and fuller, surprised that it was even possible. I whispered to her to take a deep breath and relax, that I would be gentle. She looked up at me with a trusting look in her eyes. I grabbed the heavy monster between my legs and pressed the head gently against the outside of her wetness, begging to be let in. I paused and savored the sensation that felt new and warmly familiar at the same time. It was as if I had found the key to the heaven I had been searching for my whole life.

I leaned in and kissed her on her mouth. My tongue intertwined with hers as my cock loitered at the opening of her vagina, ready to plunge to the depths of the place I most wanted to go. It was too much, I couldn’t wait any longer. My desire was just too strong. In one smooth motion, I slid in deep, to the bottom. It was warm and wet and hot, all at the same time. I pulled back up, my hard, juicy cock almost all the way out, with only the head sheathed by the initial inches of the top of her vagina. It was the most incredible feeling I had ever felt. I lingered for a moment and then plunged back in as deep as those 10 inches would go. And then again. And then . . . I felt a sense of panicked terror, that I was going to cum far too early, way before I was ready. I wanted this to last forever, not three slow strokes. But, it was too late. I felt that familiar rumbling from the depths of my loins. I could not stop it. My cock throbbed and pumped the potent mixture of semen and sperm up from inside me, through my pulsating 10 inch shaft. I deposited the warm gooey load deep inside Alison. She moaned in delight, and I held her tight. My arms wrapped around her as she lay beneath me, as if I would never let her go.

I wanted to luxuriate in that post-orgasmic glow, but something wasn’t right. I felt a wetness and heard voices that were out of place. My eyes opened. It took a moment for my brain to register where I was. No, I was not in some ethereal white bedroom losing my virginity to Alison. I was not in my bedroom back at home in West Hartford. I was in my dorm room at Middlebury. My cock was not a throbbing 10 inch monster. It had all been a dream. How could that be? It had seemed so real, so intense. I exhaled. When I did have sex someday, is that what it would feel like? Would it be that incredible?

In the hallway, I could hear Dusty’s voice full of good cheer and enthusiasm even at this early hour. I reached down and felt the outside of my boxers and my sheets. Damn! They were wet with warm semen that rapidly was turning cold. I hadn’t had a wet dream in several years. Why did I have to have one on the very first morning of freshman year? With my new roommate in the room? I sighed. The pleasures of the dream already were retreating into the recesses of my brain.

At least the dream was about Alison, which was of considerable consolation. I sometimes had vivid, powerful dreams that involved men. As the excitement of those dreams ebbed, each time a nagging fear crept back into my consciousness like poisonous mist rising from a bog. I have mentioned here before that one of my fears at that time of my life was that I might be a fairy. If I had just had a wet dream about Alison, about explosive, satisfying sex with a woman, that meant I wasn’t a fairy, right?

Dusty pounded on the door. “Wake up boys! We have a big day ahead of us!”

David swung his feet around and placed them on the floor. He wiped the sleep from his eyes. “What’s with that guy? How can he be so cheery so early in the morning?”

“I know,” I said. “I’m not ready to get out of bed.” That was true in more than one sense. I was trapped. I couldn’t let David see that I had had a wet dream. It was so embarrassing. I had to wait for him to leave or at least turn his back so I could slip out of bed without him seeing. And I needed to piss like a race horse. My worst fears of a lack of privacy in college were coming true, and it was only the first full day.

David stood up and shuffled over to where he kept his towels and shaving kit. I could not believe my eyes. Could it be? He had morning wood, a sizeable erection that bulged upwards to the top of his white boxers. It was unmistakable! He rubbed his eyes again and yawned. I tried not to stare, but it was impossible not to. At that moment, I wished I had those X-ray vision glasses you would see advertised in the backs of comic books. I desperately wished I could see through the white cotton at what lurked beneath the hefty bulge. As he pulled off his white crew neck t-shirt, however, a miracle happened: his big dick flopped through the opening of his boxer shorts.

It bounced lazily a few times as David pulled his t-shirt over his head. And then he simply tucked it back into his boxers. I had pretended not to notice, though if I had fooled David – which I later learned I hadn’t – I certainly wasn’t fooling myself. The image was seared instantly into my brain, and I can recall it with clarity even all of these years later. His cock was big, a solid 7 inches, just a little shorter than mine. But, his was wider and flared out in the middle. It was narrower at the base and the head and widened in the middle like the sexiest of soda bottles. A heavy, solid, and meaty cock. It was also good-looking and well-proportioned, just like David.

One of the things that I would come to know about David is that he had a strong sense of self and didn’t care too much about what other people think. There I was, practically cowering in my bed, afraid he might see my semi and the wet spot from my wet dream and blab about it. David was different. For him, so what if your boner flops out of your boxers and your roommate sees it? Just slip it back in and never give it another thought. He had been so casual about it, and I took note of his lack of embarrassment. One of the qualities and lessons in self-confidence I would learn from him was not to worry so much about what others think. That’s not to say he was not aware of his popularity and the benefits that came with it. Without doubt, he was careful to cultivate it. But, when you are handsome, athletic, charming, and live in the smart section of town, you don’t have to try too hard.

“You coming with me to the showers, sleepy head?” David was shirtless with a towel around his waist, and was reaching for his shaving kit. He had a warm smile, and those words were magic to my ears.

“You bet,” I said. “Let’s go.” I sat up and slipped off my boxers and grabbed my towel and my shaving kit. Had David noticed the wetness on my boxers or on my sheets before I pulled them up? I wasn’t going to care. At least not too much.

One of the reasons I look back at my college years with such fondness is that I had been hungry for the brotherhood of male companionship. It was not just the cock fest I would be exposed to on a daily basis in the showers and the dorms. Or the random acts of nudity that arise when rowdy young men live together in the oasis of an all male college, particularly in those times. For sure, that was part of the fun. But, the camaraderie of bonding with young men and the close friendships we made at this formative time in our lives is something I cherish even more.

David and I headed out the door and down the hall together to the showers with only a towel around our waists. We could hear raucous laughter escaping from the bathroom. The thought of whether Dusty would be in there again entered my mind. And which of the guys I had met yesterday. Stop it, I told myself. Watch it, or else everyone will think you’re a fruit cake. I would later come to terms with those thoughts and where on the spectrum my sexuality fell. But, until I did, I would continue to be terrified by what excited me. I still didn’t know what was ahead of me. For now, I was happy to be walking down the hall to the showers with my new buddy and a little more confidence in my step.

 

[DavidXL]

Thanks again, everyone, for reading and for your comments. I've been having fun writing this and glad to be able to share it. Let me know what you think.

Chapter 5: Helicopters in the Shower

As I mentioned before, the shower in the dorm’s bathroom was a gang shower. It was a rectangular tiled room with 8 shower nozzles, 4 on each of the longer sides of the rectangle. There were no curtains, of course. There never were back then. If you showered in the 1950s, you just expected to be naked with everyone in a shower in a communal bathroom or a locker room, whether it was in a dormitory, a gym, the Y, a country club, or a spa resort. It’s funny, because society and social norms were much more restrictive then. On television, they weren’t allowed to show a married couple’s bedroom unless the beds were twin sized. Divorce was scandalous. Pornography was illegal and very difficult to find, although not impossible (more about that later). Today, well, I don’t need to tell you how much more permissive things are on television and other media. And you can watch unlimited free porn on your phone or text a photo of your junk. I never would have imagined that in my wildest fantasies back then. Yet, gang showers are rare and men change their underwear in locker rooms under a towel. Crazy, right?

The bathroom was busy this first morning, with guys shaving and brushing their teeth at the sinks. You could hear the sounds of voices and water spraying in the shower. I nodded and exchanged hellos with some of the guys I had met yesterday. David headed to a stall to take a dump, and I made my way to the urinal to take a long piss. After that, I headed into the shower for the very first time.

I hung my towel on a hook in the small alcove at the entrance to the shower. Now that I was naked, I poked my head around the corner and then stepped inside. I must admit that I sometimes wonder whether I have made a bigger deal than is warranted of my first memories of the shower in the dorm and the young men I shared it with. Through the lens of retrospection, did I make everything seem better and more exhilarating than it really was? After all, it was just a regular shower room, and these were just the guys who lived on my floor in the dorm. I have thought long and hard about it, however, and I have to say that I believe with all certainty that everything I am telling you is exactly as I remembered it happening, and that it all was very spectacular.

There were four naked guys in there already, and I was the fifth.

“Hey, fellas,” I said as I sidled up to one of the open nozzles at the far end of the shower room.

There was a round of friendly greetings from my shower mates while I turned on the water and adjusted the temperature. As it happens, these were some of the guys I would come to be closest to in college and formed a portion of what I described previously as The Magnificent 7. In the flesh with their bare asses and bouncing cocks on display was, Anthony, Howell, Eddie, and Ted. Or, as we would later call them, Meat, Howl, Shorty, and Sasquatch.

I was determined to be on my best behavior and not check out the cocks of my new pals. I strongly believed back then that my interest in cock was morally wrong, to say nothing of the dangerous risk of being branded a social pariah if anyone caught me and suspected what was going on in my private thoughts. Keep your eyes above shoulder level, I told myself. Fight the urge to peek. With a few minor adjustments to the hot and cold faucets, I was soon being doused by a generous cascade of gloriously warm water. And I kept my head up, my peripheral vision on the dimmest setting.

“Where’s your roommate?”Anthony asked. “He’s AWOL again.” I hadn’t mentioned it to David, but the guys had been put-out that David had not joined us all for dinner in the dining hall on our very first night together. There was a perception that he had ditched us in favor of his friend from home, the one who lived in another dorm. It had not gone over well with the guys.

“He’s using the toilet,” I said, jutting my chin in the direction of the main part of the bathroom. “He’ll be right in.”

“He seems pretty full of himself,” Anthony said. The words hung there for a moment, and I would later think how rich that comment was coming from him. That was the exact same thing I would hear people say about him from time-to-time, and with some justification. Anthony was fundamentally a decent guy, but his overabundance of self-confidence would sometimes get in his way.

“Nah, he’s a good guy,” I said. “He just wanted to see a friend from his hometown.” I had felt a sting I hadn’t wanted to feel last night when David chose to have dinner with his friend from Potomac instead of me. But, I had understood why he might have preferred the familiarity of someone from back home. I had moved past it and now felt silly it had even bothered me.

“I dunno,” he said. “I picked up kind of an attitude about him.”

“C’mon,” Howell said, his hair soapy with shampoo. “Seems like a good guy to me, too.”

Eddie and Ted each chimed in that they agreed with Howell.

Anthony gave an “I don’t give a fuck” shrug and lifted his arms up to rinse off his chest and armpits. He was a physically imposing guy, and he knew it. He was 6 foot 3 inches tall with broad shoulders and dark-haired Italian good looks. He had a half moon of hair across his well-defined and impressive pecs, but otherwise was hairless on his chest and back. In later years, when he entered his early twenties, his hair would grow on his chest and back and ass. But, he was only 18 then and still mostly smooth. When he turned around with his back to the faucet to rinse shampoo out of his hair, I could not help but catch a glimpse of his cock out of the corner of my eye. What I thought I saw shocked me. Could it be? Reflexively, my head snapped back for another quick look. It was not much longer than an instant, but I saw what I needed to see. It was, by far, the largest cock I had ever seen.

“Hey, Anthony,” Howell said, “Jack just checked out your cock. I knew he would.”

My faced turned crimson at the shame of being caught. I turned to Howell and snapped, “Fuck you, I didn’t check out anybody’s cock. Why the fuck would you say that?” My heart was pounding in my chest in fear. How could I be so careless? After being so careful for so long, how could I slip up now, on my first full day of college, when people were still forming first impressions? Fuck!

Anthony’s gaze met mine. His eyes were menacing. The room was silent except for the sound of the water, and if anyone could hear it, the sound of my pounding heart. No one spoke. Until Anthony did, that is. “So, you were checking out my cock, were you?”

My mouth went dry. “No.”

“No? Then why did Howell say you did?”

“It’s bullshit. I didn’t.”

Anthony continued to stare back at me, his eyes steady with mine. “Is this what you wanted to look at?” he asked. I could tell he had grabbed his cock in one hand, slapping it against the other, each time with a loud smack, baiting me to look at it and prove him right. But, I did not look down or say anything. It was too dangerous. I wanted this all to stop. I wanted to turn back the clock and to have this all to never have happened in the first place.

“Is this what you wanted to look at?” he asked again.

My eyes were steady with his. I was not going to give in and admit anything. I couldn’t.

After a long beat, a huge, shit-eating grin spread across Anthony’s face. “Look all you want, I have nothing to hide.”

Howell’s face broke out in a broad, good-natured smile. “C’mon, we all checked it out. We’re just ribbing you. How could you ignore that huge anaconda between his legs. It’s a fucking monster!”

“It’s no big deal,” Anthony said to me with a smirk of false modesty. “I’m used to it.”

“I definitely wouldn’t call that ‘nothing,’” Eddie said, nodding his head in the direction of Anthony’s mid-section.

Anthony slapped me on the back, a mischievous smile across his face. “Sorry, bud, I was just messing with you. Check out my big dick as much as you want, seriously. All of these other fruits did, and I don’t mind at all.”

My eyes were still on his, and my sense of personal well-being was telling me he meant it. “I actually kind of like it,” he added, with his right eyebrow raised in a conspiratorial arch.

I took a giant and fateful leap. Since it appeared everyone else was looking, I allowed myself to look as well.

Whoa! Again, I took in the magnificent sight before me for a longer look than that initial furtive glance. Eddie was right. They all were. Anthony’s cock was gigantic. It was long and thick and evenly shaped, like a heavy, wrinkly cucumber hanging between his legs, with a shiny glans poking through the lips of his thick foreskin. Back then, not everyone my age was circumcised routinely like guys who were born after WWII, a half dozen or so years after me. It was often a class thing. Upper middle class whites, like me, usually were. Lower class whites usually weren’t. Ethnic types usually weren’t either unless it was for religious purposes or there had been a medical issue.

Anthony was Italian, and he was a first generation American. So, of course, he wasn’t cut. His flaccid cock was about 7 inches long with a well-proportioned head that protruded just slightly from the opening of his foreskin, as if it were so big it needed its own supply of oxygen. He had a long piss slit and a large, smooth, shiny glans. His cock was wide and undulated from side-to-side when he moved. Later on, when I would see it hard for the first time, his length and thickness would cause me to gasp audibly in disbelief. Fully engorged and on the precipice of ejaculation, it was a legitimate 10 ½ inches long, 7 inches thick and pointed gloriously to the sky. To this date, in all of my many years on this Earth, Anthony’s cock was the largest I have ever seen in person. I certainly never expect to see another one that big in the flesh during this lifetime.

“Damn,” I said. “That thing is fucking huge!” I didn’t know what else to say. There were no other words. I allowed myself to look for a long, leisurely series of moments. But, not so long as to raise any further suspicions about me. It was one thing to look at a friend’s big cock with admiration and respect. It was another to look at it with desire, which I felt, but was sure to hide in the deepest recesses of my being.

At that moment, David walked in to the shower. “Hey, gentlemen,” he said. “If you’re having a big dick contest, count me in!” (continued below)

 

[DavidXL]

any updates?

Fantastic story. Loved it!

Amazing story. Read it all. I have been going through a rough time in my life lately, but this story cheered me up. Will we ever find out what ever happened to Dusty?

Hi, guys - thank you very much for the continued interest. I know I have said (a few times) that I will be coming back to this. I definitely will, I just have to find the time to do it properly. I am glad it cheered you up, xsweet_spunkxx. I actually wrote it during a very, very rough 2 year period in my life, and it helped cheer me up both to write it and to know that it was being enjoyed by others. Thanks again.

David

 

[DavidXL]

(man, this is a long chapter. again, sorry if I've been too wordy!)

“See you later,” I said. But, he was already on his way out, and he did not turn around.

* * *​

I returned to my room and got dressed. David still wasn’t there. I was alone, and as I have mentioned previously, I often need time to be alone with my own thoughts. Not this time, however. I was like a caged animal pacing back and forth. I could not stay still. I did not want to be alone. At all. My body tingled with the charge of the memory of the shared shower with Dusty and the impossible sexual tension between us as we had stood there with tandem hardons that had pulsed with unexplored desire as the warm water cleansed our bodies but not our desires. Had all of that happened? Had I really seen Dusty’s spectacular hardon that curved upward toward the heavens? Had he really admired my cock and caressed it with his eyes before they met mine? Had those incredible eyes probed the depths of my soul and my secret desires as if he knew me in a way I did not even know myself?

I lay down on my bed, and my hand found its way to the top of my khakis and the hardon that had arisen and throbbed below the fabric. I stopped. No, that wasn’t going to be enough. I stood up and checked my appearance in the mirror just briefly before reaching for the door. I knew where I was going, but not for what. That was out of my control.

My mind was in a whirl. It was spinning. I strutted purposefully down the hall to Dusty’s room, my shoulders tight and my heart pounding with forced courage. The door was ajar. Even as a college freshman I had good manners that had been instilled in me in my childhood in West Hartford and my schooling at Avon Old Farms. But, those manners had abandoned me as every grain of my upbringing was trammeled by the desire that had arisen from those shared boners in the shower. I lingered at the door, but just for an instant. I pushed it open the rest of the way.

“Knock, knock,” I said. I tried to be cool, even though I felt anything but.

“Hey, there,” he said, looking up at me. His face was pensive, and there was a faraway look in his eyes.

I stood there, waiting for an invitation to come in, an invitation that was not forthcoming. “Can I come in for a minute?” He wasn’t making this easy on me.

“Sure, of course,” he said, his face softening.

I stepped inside, and it occurred to me I had never been fully inside Dusty’s room before. Because he was a senior and the dorm’s resident advisor, he generally kept a friendly distance without seeming too inaccessible. I would not have just stopped by his room for a visit. Before today, that is. I looked around. His room was bigger than ours, and he had it to himself. He had the standard issue twin bed, but a better desk, a tattered leather couch, a beat up coffee table and two low cushioned chairs. He was sitting in a chair, one of his long, lanky legs crossed over the other one. He was wearing an ivory-colored Scottish fisherman’s sweater and faded dungarees that were so worn the opening at his ankles were frayed. His feet were bare. His blond, curly hair was still wet – a reminder to me of what had transpired in the showers. There was a book in his lap and red wine poured into a water glass on the floor next his chair. In the background, a record played on the hi-fi.

“Have a seat,” he said, gesturing to the couch.

There was a heavy silence, except for the record playing softly. He wasn’t making this easy. “Is that Chet Baker?” I asked.

He nodded. “’My Funny Valentine.’”

“Thought so,” I said.

More silence. The spark I usually saw in Dusty’s eye was not there. What had a happened? He was serious, distant. He clearly had regrets about the charged intimacy in the shower. Yes, it had gone too far. Did he think I was a fairy who was trying to come onto him? Was I a fairy? Was he a fairy? I did not know what I was expecting when I left my room and marched down here. I just knew I was rattled and could not stay cooped up alone. But, I did not expect this cold silence and awkwardness. It was clear I should not have come.

“Look, I should go,” I said, starting to stand.

He softened. “No, you can stay.” He paused a beat. “Please.”

“You sure?” I wanted to stay and leave at the same time.

“Would you like a glass of wine?”

I nodded, even though I hadn’t acquired a taste for wine yet and only liked beer and cheap whiskey.

He set his book on the floor and reached for another glass. “Sorry, I don’t have any wine glasses, just these water glasses that I lifted from the dining hall.” He flashed me a smirk, knowing I would be amused.

“You swiped glasses from the dining hall? I like that. I have some dirt on you after all.”

He laughed for the first time since I had come in. “That’s not the only dirt you have me.”

“Don’t worry,” I said. “You’re secret’s safe with me.”

There was another awkward silence except for the melodious sounds of Chet Baker that played in the background. Even though Dusty had relaxed, I was still struggling to regain the equilibrium we had had.

“What are you reading?” I asked.

He picked up the book from the floor and read the cover. “’The Razor’s Edge,” Somerset Maugham.”

“Hey,” I said, genuinely surprised. “That’s my favorite book.”

He looked at me skeptically. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I’ve read it 5 times. There’s something about Larry Darrell that speaks to me. He’s a lost and self-destructive soul on a perpetual journey to find answers no one could ever know. I try to find meaning in every word he says.”

“I’m impressed,” he said. “This is only my second time.” He handed me a glass of wine and our hands touched briefly in the transaction. He sat back down.

More silence. “The thing is,” he said. “Is that I wasn’t really reading it when you came in. I was trying to. But, I couldn’t concentrate and was just staring at the same page.” He paused. “I can’t stop thinking about you and what happened in the shower.”

I felt a weight leave my shoulders. “Me, too,” I said. My voice cracked and those two words came out with not much more force than a whisper.

“I’m sorry about that” he said. “I shouldn’t have.”

“Hey, it was my fault,” I said. “I popped the first boner.”

He winced and smiled at the same time. He started to say something and then stopped. And then he said it: “That boner was pretty impressive.”

“So was yours,” I said, struggling to find my voice.

More silence. The book slipped out of his hand, and we both reached out to grab it. When we leaned into each other, our heads – and mouths – came into unexpectedly close contact. We each could have pulled away. But, neither of us did. We stayed there for what seemed like the longest time. I remember the thumping of my heart pounding in my chest. I remember the heavy sound of my breathing, the air rising in my chest and flowing out through my nostrils. I remember the sound of Dusty’s breath, the short, labored breaths as if time were slowing. He licked the dryness off his lips. I gulped, and we leaned into each other. Out lips met, softly at first. His lips! They were impossibly luxurious. Full, smooth, wet, soft and strong and the same time. Our tongues found each other’s, and they intertwined. His tongue! It was intense and probing in a way that was more powerful than any girl’s I had ever kissed. His late afternoon stubble scratched against mine, an unexpected and new sensation that felt as if 2 sheets of the finest sandpaper were rubbing against the other. My eyes stayed shut, and I savored the unexpected thrill of kissing Dusty, a thrill that enveloped me and jolted the core of my being.

I know it must sound crazy today, but the thought of men kissing was not something that had ever entered my mind back then. Not even for someone like me, with the expansive range of my unexplored desires. Kissing was something I did with girls. I had never seen men kiss, never seen a picture of men kissing, never seen it on TV or in the movies, never read about it in a book or in the newspaper or in a magazine. It was something that I just had never seen or ever even thought of. Jerking off with another guy, that was something you heard stories about and would sometimes be the subject of sniggering accounts of suspected fairies you might have known. Kissing was an act so intimate and caring and so intense, surely men did not do that with each other, right? Sexual acts between men were supposed to be dirty and furtive and shame worthy. Or at least that’s what people said and what I felt. How could the sublime intimacy of a kiss between men be so utterly beautiful as what I felt with Dusty at this moment?

I wasn’t sure how it happened, but I ended up on Dusty’s leather couch on my back, with him on top of me. My cock was rock hard, bulging at the top of my khakis. I could feel the pulse of Dusty’s hardon twitching almost in tandem with mine as he ground it into me. Our arms wrapped around each other, and I realized nothing felt more beautiful and more natural and more right than to have his powerful arms wrapped around me, holding me tight. He was firmly muscled and strong. My hands found the cage of his ribs and felt their way down his v-shaped torso to the rounded contours of that full, beautiful ass I had admired in the showers.

I wasn’t thinking about right or wrong, I was just thinking about how having Dusty gently, but insistently grinding his body into mine, our mouths locked in the intensity of a secret dance, was like being in a heaven I had never even dared to dream of. His mouth tasted of salt and sweat and red wine. He smelled of Dial soap and a raw, sexy, manliness that was a natural scent all his own that would have made me a millionaire if I could have bottled it up and sold it. I don’t even need to close my eyes to recall that scent today.

(continued)

 

[DavidXL]

(continued - this is the last part of this chapter. Thanks for reading if you still are!)

My eyes followed the slender trail of hair that spread from the crack of Shorty’s ass as he knelt before Freddy. I had always admired the compact, muscled frame of Shorty’s body and his perfectly-formed features. With his right hand, he stroked his curved, hefty hardon as his head pumped back and forth on Freddy’s cock. It was amazing to see his mouth start at the tip of Freddy’s beautiful glans and slide with ease down the entire length of his shaft until Shorty’s face was buried in Freddy’s pubes, which were neatly trimmed at a time when men generally didn’t trim their pubes. I wouldn’t hear the term “deep throat” until years later, but Shorty was deep throating Freddy steadily and expertly, his head bobbing with a steady drumbeat.

Freddy’s eyes opened, and he gasped. Reflexively, he grabbed onto Shorty’s head with both hands, and he looked forward for the first time, his breath quickening as he approached the inevitable. My hand slipped momentarily on the curtain, and the clasp opened.

Fuck! I was caught!

My heart beat faster in terror. Freddy’s eyes locked with mine, and they widened even further, his face twisted in ecstatic surprise. He moaned audibly and pumped his hips into Shorty’s face. Shorty increased his tempo and I could tell by the way Freddy gasped and Shorty gulped as his head bobbed that Freddy was shooting a large load down Shorty’s eager throat. Freddy’s eyes remained locked with mine as his body heaved from the power of his orgasm.

I would later learn that this one of the strongest orgasms of Freddy’s life, that once the curtains opened and our eyes met unexpectedly at the exact moment he was starting to cum, that his cock surged even harder. The shock of seeing me caused his cock to unleash an uncommonly powerful and copious load that he shot down Shorty’s open throat. At this moment, however, Freddy looked sick with regret as soon as he came. His eyes darkened as they bore into mine, and it seemed that the coldness and the darkness in his eyes was somehow meant to threaten me into silence. His load now blown, he let go of Shorty’s head and left without a word, though the message to me was clear.

If Shorty was surprised that Freddy would just leave without saying anything, turning his bare ass to him and leaving, Shorty gave no indication. He got up off his knees and stood up, giving me a view from the now-secured curtains, of his hard cock, which was flat against his belly. He had been stroking it while he blew Freddy, and he was almost ready to cum. With just a handful of strokes, a series of plumes of cum shot out of his cock and into the air before landing in splats on the ground. It was remarkable to me that anyone could shoot cum as high into the air as Shorty had. I had never shot a load that high in my life, and I wondered then and to this day whether he was able to do that because his cock pointed straight to the sky or because of his uniformly muscled body or else because he had been so turned on by having Freddy shoot a giant load against the back of his throat as he gulped every drop of Freddy’s cum.

I would later tell Shorty that I had seen everything, including how Shorty rubbed the cum into the carpet with his bare foot before he left the room and darted back up the stairs, naked, to the safety of our floor. He had laughed and not minded at all and did not share the same reservations about Freddy that I did. That was one of the great things about Shorty: he could laugh at himself or situations without viewing it as an assault on his ego, liked David did or Anthony might have. So what, I watched him blow and swallow a load from one of our friends in the first floor prefects lounge, Shorty would have thought. He would have hoped only that his ass looked good and that Freddy thought of him as a good cocksucker, which in Shorty’s mind was a compliment instead of a pejorative statement.

Shorty left the room after he came and rubbed the incriminating cum into the carpet. I waited a few minutes and then followed, slinking out of there with my cock between my legs and running up the main stairs to the third floor without being seen. I had been afraid campus security would be in the building or that I would be caught by an RA who would turn me in. And I didn’t want Dusty to catch me like this. When I reached the third floor, I could hear the sounds of the other guys in the shower, and I darted into the bathroom. The guys already were in the shower, trying to warm up their bodies from the freezing cold of the snow. There are moments when I have felt incredibly close to the Magnificent 7, and this was one of those moments. Some of my happiest times of freshman year wear spent in that shower as my buddies and I bonded in the nude. Was it crazy to run naked through the quad in the middle of a snowstorm as we were chased by campus security? Yes. Was the cold of the snow and the frigid night air painful and ultimately extremely uncomfortable? Absolutely. Would I change anything at all about the experience? Absolutely not.

I knew that Shorty had not seen me in the lounge and had no idea at that time that I had watched him blow Freddy. As we showered, Freddy and I made eye contact a few times in a way that felt uncomfortable to me and continued to feel vaguely threatening, as if he were willing me into silence – or else. Shorty and Freddy made no indication that anything had gone on between them. The only way you might have known was that their post-orgasmic cocks were still vaguely red. But, so was everyone else’s from the cold of the snow and the frigid outside air. Anthony and David were laughing about getting chased, and the other guys joined in the laughter. I was so happy to be here with my buddies in the way that I was and to have shared the experiences of the evening that we had just shared.

As David and I crawled into our separate beds, exhausted, my mind was a whirl at everything that had happened that night. It had been a mixture of fun and laughs and spirited adventure that had made me feel acutely aware of being alive. At the same time, my mind struggled to process what I had seen happen between Shorty and Freddy. I had never seen anything like that in my life. Shorty was a cocksucker and apparently an experienced one. Was I a cocksucker? Watching what I had seen tonight made me want to try it and I wondered if I ever would. I closed my eyes and thought first of Freddy’s handsome cock and wondered what it would have tasted like to lick that thread of pre-cum that had dripped down from the tip. Or to have swallowed a load shot down the back of my throat. I thought of Dusty’s beautiful banana shaped cock and shook my head with regret at the awkwardness that arisen between us and wondered if we could ever get past it. I felt uneasy about having had Freddy catch me catch him in the way that he had and the undercurrent of menace that had arisen between us. What this would mean, I did not know. A part of me wanted to tell David about it. A louder part of me told me to keep the information to myself. At least for now.

 

[DavidXL]

Hi, everyone - thank you so much for your kind comments, which I really, really appreciate. I am so happy this story spoke to people and continues to 10 years after I started writing it. I wrote this during a difficult time in my life, and it provided me with a refuge to hide out in and distract me from things that weren't going right. The characters and their stories are all in my head, and I do hope to come back to it. Thank you all again.

 

[DavidXL]

(Chapter 7, continued)

Before I could go too far down that road, I heard the door swing open in the bathroom. In a moment, Dusty had hung his towel up on the hook in the alcove and had stepped into the shower in all of his naked, confident glory.

“Good, you’re still here,” he said. “I mean – ”

He blushed, and I could tell it had struck him that those words could mean more than one thing given the context of our nudity.

“I know what you mean,” I said, giving him a break. “I’m glad you made it. The truth is, I’ve had kind of a rough weekend, and I, um, was enjoying your company.” Now it was my turn to blush. Had I really said that?

If I was worried about Dusty’s response, I didn’t need to be. “I could tell you needed a friend,” he said without hesitating. Dusty was intuitive that way. “What’s going on?”

How could I explain what had happened with David, how we had watched him through binoculars as he fucked Carol on the couch in the prefect’s lounge? How I had been so turned on at watching at close range David’s big cock slide into Carol’s vagina, his balls slapping against her taint, that I had raced back to my dorm to jerk off? How he had caught me and jerked off in me in anger? How my feelings for David transcended ordinary friendship? “It’s nothing,” I said, even though it was everything.

He shrugged. “OK, if you ever want to talk, I hope you know you can trust me.”

Dusty soaped up his curly blond locks with shampoo, and there was a momentary lull in the conversation. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes as he rinsed his hair. With his eyes closed, I was able to take in the full glory of his naked body. It really was incredible. Every curve and angle of his face seemed to have been exquisitely carved. His cheeks were high and firm. His jaw was square and strong. His lips were soft and full and a tantalizing opening to the unknown beauty that lay within him. His neck was long, the muscles in it taut and twisting artfully as his head turned. His Adam’s apple protruded from the middle, and even that was an object of beauty I desired to kiss gently.

His eyes were still closed as he as he rinsed his hair. His uncommonly handsome face seemed so peaceful and untroubled. I would later think of him with that expression which was so utterly ordinary and extraordinary at the same time in its simple beauty. I would later see that uncommonly beautiful and naturally untroubled face twisted in primal pain. Yet, when I thought of that face reflecting great distress, I cannot help but think of the unencumbered freshness of the one before me: A man in the midst of his ablutions. A man rinsing off after a healthy, cleansing run on the track and the uncomplicated expectation of shared time with someone he desired to know better, which I freely acknowledge was me.

His shoulders were square and solid. They looked broader than they were because of the narrowness of his waist. His pecs were solid and wide and punctuated with nipples the size of quarters. They were a soft brown that seemed as if they had emanated the warmth of the California sun that had shined over him his whole life. The water cascaded down his torso in rivulets that swirled past his navel and converged over the tight curled ribbon of brown pubic hair that framed that long, spongy cock that would be a singular beauty in its own right, even if it were not attached to such an extraordinarily beautiful human being. My eyes continued down, past the scar of his circumcision that was elongated by the warmth of the water and the steam of the shower. Past the water that streamed down from the curled rim of his corona to the tile below. I admired the rounded bulges of his thigh muscles, honed from the miles he ran on the track and the country roads of Vermont and Orange County. To say that I was dazed by his beauty would be an understatement of the highest degree.

I looked up and started at the realization that Dusty’s eyes were open. He had been watching me the whole time as I admired the entirety of his naked body! My heart seized, and I recalled the terror I had felt when the guys had caught me checking out Anthony’s monstrous wrinkled cock. But, Dusty just looked back at me with the same openness and warm attentiveness he always did, as if it were perfectly normal for my eyes to inhale the divine nakedness of his body. I averted my eyes and gulped. I felt I had to say something. “Sorry,” I said.

“Sorry for what?”

“For – for looking.”

“Nothing to be sorry about. It’s natural. And it’s not as if I haven’t checked you about before when I thought you weren’t looking.”

Our eyes met again, and I held them there. He continued to wash his arms as he had been before. The difference this time was that he openly allowed his eyes to lower from my gaze and descend slowly down my body. My eyes stayed on his as I watched them absorb my body. They took in my shoulders. He lingered on my chest. He zeroed in onto my navel and followed the faint treasure trail that led down to my groin. My bush was thicker than Dusty’s, a tangled copse of black hair that hugged my penis. I had stroked my penis gently before Dusty had joined me in the shower to make sure it had made a positive impression. It had shrunk some as Dusty and I had lingered in the showers talking. But, now that he openly gazed at my penis with curious admiration, it started to awaken. No one had ever looked at me like this before, and it was unexpectedly – and uncontrollably – erotic.

My cock surged and fully hardened in only seconds, faster than I can get out of a chair these days. I could not have helped myself if I had tried. There was nothing I could do it about it. It was way beyond my control. The funny thing is, I tended to embarrass easily about such things back then, as I have mentioned previously. But, if I was supposed to be embarrassed about it this time, I wasn’t.

You might think that Dusty would have recoiled in surprise at the boner that jutted out from my body. Or else you might have expected him to fall to his knees. But, he did neither. He continued to stare at my cock, as if he were swallowing it with his eyes. His eyes moved back up my body with a slow, measured steadiness that unexpectedly felt like a warm embrace at a moment when I felt supremely vulnerable. My eyes had followed his the whole time, and now his gaze was even with mine again. His eyes were heavy with what I now recognize was desire, though I was still young and inexperienced enough back then to miss those cues. I wanted him to say something, to say anything. I knew that standing in the showers with a boner that had a not entirely innocent provenance was a reckless act that could destroy my past, present, and future.

Finally, the corners of Dusty’s mouth curled upwards into the most admiring smile. “You have a truly beautiful body,” he said. “And your cock, it’s – it’s beautiful, too.”

I looked down at the thick 7 ½ inches that jutted straight out in front of me. “Cocks, they do funny things, you know?”

Slower than mine, but with steady alacrity, his cock hardened, too. He laughed nervously. I watched, transfixed, as it filled and widened and lengthened without any manual assistance. In not much more than an instant, his cock was fully erect. Unlike mine, Dusty’s cock curved gently toward the sky, like the most beautiful cock-colored banana you had ever seen. I was conscious that my breathing had slowed and whatever was happening right now, we were sharing an uncommon moment between two people who were tied together by the most human of connections, even if neither of us fully understood that connection and what it meant.

“So, there. We’re even,” he said with a smile that dispelled any nervousness or shame that I might have felt. It was as if it were the most natural occurrence in the world for two young men to be standing with throbbing boners in the showers in a preppy New England college in 1957. “Actually, almost even,” he said. “I think you’re a little longer,” he said.

I appraised his magnificent cock. “Perhaps,” I said, “But, I think yours might be just a little thicker, more like a banana than mine.”

We stood there in the showers just staring at each other with silly, drunken grins on our faces. Neither of us touched our cocks, but each of them pulsed visibly with desire. When I think back through time at these moments, one of the things I remember most was how my cock was so hard it hurt, one of the most powerful erections of my whole life. The other thing I felt was how a primal desire had been unleashed from the core of my being, a desire that frightened me with the confluence of intensity and innate authenticity. It was one thing to fantasize about cocks when I jerked off. Or to have a crush on David that existed only in my interior thoughts. It was another to be standing here in abject naked glory with an extraordinarily beautiful human being as Dusty, bathed in the warmth of cascading water and what I now recognize as youthful innocence. Neither of us made a move on the other. It was enough for both of us just to stand there facing each other with raging hardons, as if it were the most natural thing for two guys back then to do. Well, almost the most natural.

From out in the hallway, we could hear the sound of a door slam. It was enough for the moment to be lost. The utter openness and desire that had been on Dusty’s face evaporated. He shook his head gently, as if he were shaking the moment away. He looked again at my hard on, but I could tell he was realizing the impossibility of the situation. He was an RA, older than me by not just 4 years, but with the experience of someone finishing college whereas I was just starting. I know now he was thinking he had violated my trust by allowing all of this to happen. He looked at me wistfully and said, “This was fun, but I better get going.” He turned to leave and I got a view of his full, athletic milk white ass and the wisps of hair that lined his crack like brown velvet. I wanted nothing more at that moment than to press the soft cheek of my face against the cool whiteness of the cheeks of his ass and just stay there and quietly savor it. Don’t go, I thought. Please, don’t go. We never have to leave.

(continued)

 

[DavidXL]

(continued)

I left the bathroom, clean and dry and semen-free. Instead of turning left to head back to my room, I turned right, in the direction of Dusty’s room and where this all began. I stopped in front of his door. The lights blazed bright in the hallway. My heart felt sick with regret and an urgent need to repair what I had damaged. I leaned my head against his door, my heart pounding at the thought that he was just on the other side of it, sleeping soundly in his bed.

“Dusty,” I whispered.

“Dusty,” I whispered again. “Are you awake?”

I closed my eyes, my forehead pressed up against the hard wood of the door. I willed him to wake up and come to the door to let me into his room and back into his heart. I had so much to say, and I needed to say it now. I couldn’t wait until morning.

“Please,” I whispered. “I need to speak with you.”

I knocked lightly against the door with the knuckles of my right hand. It was crazy. I wanted him to hear me, and at the same time I didn’t. No one wants to be awaked by a knock at your door at just before 4 am. He would think I am crazy. And maybe he would be right.

I knocked again, a little louder this time.

“Dusty!” I whispered louder again than I had before. A small tear formed in the corner of each of my eyes. My heart pounded. I told myself that I would count to ten, and if he did not answer I would leave. I counted slowly in a whisper. When I reached 9, I broke it out in smaller gradations to 9 ½ and then 9 ¾ and finally 9 and 9 tenths.

I pulled away from the door. As urgently as I needed to speak with him to preserve my sanity, I didn’t think pounding on his door and waking him at this hour was the way to go about it. I had resolved to speak with him and tell him everything. I had already lost everything I had with him, so there was nothing else to lose. But, this wasn’t the moment. It would have to wait until morning.

I turned away and headed back to my room in my boxers, the towel over my shoulder and the boxers dampened by my wet dream crumpled in a ball in my hand. I looked back once and then a second time to see if the door had opened. But, it hadn’t.

When I returned to my room, David stirred and then rolled over. I climbed back into bed and tried to ignore the top sheet that was still wet from my wet dream. As much as my mind roiled at the mess I was only just now realizing I had caused with Dusty, I was strangely at peace. Instead of waffling in regret and expending every effort to smother all life from the feelings I felt toward Dusty, I had decided to confront myself in an honest light. That had been the first step. The next would be telling Dusty how I felt about what had happened between us that night. You would think that second step would be more terrifying than the first. But, the truth was that admitting to myself what I felt and what I might be was infinitely more terrifying. Whatever was meant to happen with Dusty would happen, and I knew even at that young age that in love and passion you can only do what you could do. The first step was opening your heart, and I had opened it. The next step was letting your heart be known, and I was going to make it known as soon as the morning arrived. The rest was mostly beyond my control.

After tossing fitfully through that night, I finally felt at peace with what I knew I needed to do. I have long lived my life by taking chances not because I was brave, but because I was fearful of living with regrets. I knew that if I didn’t take a chance with Dusty, I would regret it always. I didn’t want that. I wanted to have the certainty that even if things didn’t work out the way I wanted them to, that I had done the best that I possibly could. In life, if you’ve done the best you can do, you can avoid the pain of regret. I knew even then I needed to avoid that pain or I would be haunted for the rest of my life.

As David snored lightly across the room, I took that as license to rub out a load even though I had thought I had unloaded every possible drop of semen during that wet dream in which I had dreamt that Dusty had taken my cock into his body and coaxed the essence of my body into his. This time, it was a quick and unplanned release that I shot off into the crumpled, cum-filled boxers that had hosted the bounty of my wet dream. It was all I needed to slip off into a peaceful, dream-free sleep. I knew the next day would bring change and new developments, even if I did not fully understand what they would be or in what direction they would go.

 

[DavidXL]

(thanks for sticking with me - this is the last section of this windy chapter!)

I reached the dorm and the warmth of the lobby that sheltered me from the windy cold and the snap of the flurries but nothing else. As I crossed the lobby, I was aware that the door from the outside had opened again with a slam. I started at the noise and turned around with the expectation that the rising wind had grabbed the door and pushed it back. It wasn’t the wind, however.

It was Dusty.

He was panting, having run after me all the way from the indoor track. His eyes were dark, as if the Aegean were roiling in a storm wrought by the gods. His jaw was clenched in determination and his fists tight. I looked at him in surprise at his unexpected presence and the intensity and speed with which he was approaching me. His face was serious and unsmiling, and as he raced toward me it occurred to me at the last instant that he might punch me or otherwise attack me.

He grabbed me by the arms and pressed me roughly against the wall. All in the same motion, he leaned in and kissed me so hard I thought he might have broken my nose. He wrapped his arms around me and held me in the tightest most powerful way, squeezing me as if he would never let me go. Our tongues found each other’s and our mouths connected in varying degrees of tenderness and raw, hungry energy. Our cocks jumped to attention and throbbed wildly in our pants as we bore them into each other’s. The experience of this kiss went beyond just the physical. We connected not just our bodies and our mouths, but I felt his spirit enter my body and connect with mine in a way that made our truths known: I loved him, and he loved me right back. I know that all might sound like hyperbole. But, I can assure you that is exactly how I felt and I remember it with precision all off these many years later.

Looking back over the course of my life and the catalog of first kisses I had shared with lovers, I realize that I remember every first kiss, but never the second one. Except with Dusty. I have never forgotten the intensity of that first kiss with him in his dorm room as Chet Baker played in the background and my world shifted at the unexpected pleasure of what it meant to kiss and be kissed by a man, especially one as extraordinary as Dusty. And I have never forgotten that second kiss with Dusty, the kiss that came in the lobby of my freshman dorm on a snowy afternoon when I thought all was lost and said “I love you,” the kiss that enveloped our souls, the kiss that made our cocks come to life at the unspoken possibilities of what might lie ahead.

Aside from the physical and emotional power of that second kiss, what is so extraordinary is the bravery with which it was exchanged. I have written before of the challenges of that era and how the love we felt was forbidden not just in the romantic literary sense, but also in every legal and social sense. For Dusty to race across the lobby of our college dorm in 1957 and shove me against the wall and kiss me so publicly with such passion and intensity and open lust was an act of courage that bordered on lunacy. The lobby was empty and no one was in it, though Dusty hadn’t known that when he raced through it after me.

If anyone had been in the lobby, however, the exposure of our forbidden secret would have subjected us to certain scorn and banishment. Dusty would be fired from his position as RA and lose the scholarship that came with it. We likely would have been brought before the college disciplinary committee and be reprimanded formally or subjected to a mental health evaluation to see if we represented a predatory danger to the other male students. Very possibly we could have been expelled from college and marks emblazoned across our permanent records. Our parents would have been notified, and mine, for certain, would have sent me to a psychiatrist to cure me of the sickness. For Dusty to have risked everything to race after me and capture me publicly in the way that he did meant that he loved me with all that he had. Even after my lifetime has almost passed, my eyes are filling with emotive tears as I type these words. Dusty loved me in a way that was beautiful and extraordinary and pure. I knew it at that moment as he held me that there was nothing dirty or wrong or shameful about what I felt, and I have always been grateful that in this gesture he said all of it without needing to speak a word.

“Let’s go,” he said finally, and we walked up the north staircase, the same one I had raced up nude that night after the frolic in the snow. I was as happy as I ever had been.

While no one was in the lobby, I would later learn that we had not been unobserved. At the top of the south stair case, Shorty and Anthony had frozen in their tracks at the sight of what was going on below. They had seen everything, from the moment Dusty broke through the door, shoved me against the wall to kiss me, our bodies grinding together, our boners throbbing in our pants to when we walked up the south staircase together. I would not have been too concerned if had been just Shorty who saw us, knowing what I knew about him. But, I would have been in a panic if I had known that Anthony had watched all of it and said, “Well, well, well. What do you know? Jack and Dusty are a couple of fruit cakes.” Anthony had a big mouth, and the knowledge that there were 2 confirmed fairies on the floor, one of them his close friend and the other the RA would be impossible to contain.

But, I didn’t know any of that yet and did not feel fear at that moment. I only felt supreme happiness and exhilaration at the possibilities that lay ahead of me now that I knew with all certainty that the man to whom I had offered my naked heart had taken it after all.

 

[DavidXL]

As difficult as it was to look away from the extraordinary sight of David’s hard cock as he jerked off, I looked down at my own cock. I pulled down on the skin of my cock and held it tight against my balls so that it showed my boner at its longest. I paused there for a long moment and stopped stroking so I could show off my cock in its full glory. David’s mouth opened in amazement. He stopped stroking as well and copied my gesture. He pulled down on the skin of his cock and squeezed his cock muscles. His cock was large and sexy and powerful. His balls were like large, loose eggs suspended in his hairy scrotum. I stared at his cock. and he stared at mine.

“I never realized your balls were so big,” I said.

“I never realized you cock was so big,” he said. “I mean, I’ve seen it before and thought it was big. But, tonight, from this angle, it looks fucking huge.”

We looked down at each other’s stretched out cocks and then our eyes met. I smiled, and he smiled back. I started stroking my cock again. But, David did not. Instead, he stood up from his bed and moved over to mine, his hard cock swaying from side-to-side. He sat down on my bed and leaned back next to me. Our thighs were pressed together. I couldn’t believe this was really happening. My cock surged even harder. A drop of pre-cum leaked from the slit of my dick hole.

He started stroking his cock again while he stared at mine and seemed mesmerized by the drop of precum. “I’ve never touched another guy’s cock before,” he said, looking at my cock and then looking up, his eyes searching mine.

I couldn’t say the same, of course. I hadn’t been thinking of Dusty, but I thought of him and his cock now and then forced myself not to. “Go ahead,” I said, removing my hand from my cock. It pointed up towards the sky and pulsed with desire that surged through my entire body, including, I must admit, my heart.

David needed no further encouragement. He removed his hand from his own cock and wrapped it around mine. I took a deep breath as I savored the touch of David’s hand on my cock. I had had such complicated feelings about David from the first moment I had met him, my blue blazer draped over my arm, my cock betraying my true feelings by surging to full engorgement as we had shaken hands for the first time. I had been drawn to him in ways that I couldn’t articulate then, but needed no words now as he had done the unthinkable and grabbed my cock as we sat here and jerked off together. This moment had been facilitated by the twin fuels of pornography and alcohol. But, the truth was, I needed no excuse. I wanted this and always had.

David’s hand explored my cock from top to bottom with tactile fascination. He wrapped his fingers around it and stroked it. He gripped my balls a little too roughly for comfort, but I didn’t mind at all. He ran his index finger around the ridge of my corona. Then, he touched his finger to the drop of precum and swirled it in a circle until the entire crown was slippery and wet.

“You have a really big dick head,” he said, looking up at me.

I returned his gaze. His lips were softly parted, and they drew me in. I closed my eyes and leaned forward to kiss him.

I felt the firm pressure of David’s open palm pressed against my bare chest. “Um, Jack, what are you doing?”

I opened my eyes. “I, I – I was going to kiss you.”

An incredulous smile spread across his face. “Kiss me? You’re kidding me, right?”

Considering that his other hand was wrapped around my cock and his finger was wet with my pre-cum, I hadn’t even thought about how a kiss from me would have been received. I had just leaned in to do it. My eyes searched his to see if he was the one doing the kidding. “What are we doing here?”

The incredulous smile remained on his face. “We’re rubbing one out together, like buddies. We’re finishing what we all started back in the lounge.”

I could not help but feel that a wave of disappointment had crashed over me. I could smell the whiskey on David’s breath, and I am sure he could smell the same on mine. But, this wasn’t the whiskey talking, at least not for me. I wasn’t just rubbing one out. This was just the start for what I had assumed was more. I wasn’t so buzzed, however, not to realize that David and I were moving at different speeds. I righted myself. I pulled my head back and flashed him back a knowing smile. “Keep rubbing all you want.”

Even though kissing was not on the menu, I reached over and grabbed David’s cock in the same way that he had grabbed mine. His balls were heavy in my hand and the tufts of brown pubic hair that covered them felt unexpectedly soft against my fingers. He had leaked a river of precum. I spit on my hand and ran it up and down the length of his shaft. His cock was magnificent. Not quite as big mine, but extraordinary just the same in large part because of to whom it was attached.

My hand was wet and slippery from the spit and his precum. One of the reasons cocks have always been so exciting to me is that they can be so different, yet all serve the same purpose. David’s cock was long and smooth and jutted straight out, like mine. Yet, it was noticeably thicker in the middle than at the base or at the crown, like the sexiest of soda bottles as you have heard me describe him before. With David’s cock in my left hand and my cock in his right hand, the joint sensation of jerking off together like this in such an intimate shared experience was heavenly to me, even if David did not want me to kiss him.

Our breathing became increasingly heavier. I felt a warm surge within me. His eyes locked with mine. “I’m about to blow,” he said.

My chest heaved. “Me too,” I said, choking out the words.

I started to cum. The first spurt shot out and landed across David’s chest, which was still covered with a T-shirt. The second and third spurts shot straight up and landed across the top of my left shoulder. The fourth landed right on the underside of David’s cock and dribbled down to his balls. I wiped the cum from the back of my hand onto his cock for additional lubrication that was both warm and wet.

“Oh, fuck,” he said. “Fuck!” David’s cock tightened in my hand, and he moaned. His hand was still around my spent, but still semi-hard cock. As he was coming, he squeezed my cock until it hurt.

My head jolted in surprise as the first shot of his cum splashed against the underside of my chin. The next burst struck me on my neck, with the remaining load striking me on my chest and running down in rivulets to the hair of my treasure trail. I squeezed the last remaining drops of cum from his cock as we both looked down and watched them ooze out the slit of his dick hole. We both fell back on my bed to catch our breath.

A whiff of uncertainty wafted into my consciousness as the realization of what we had just done really struck me. I couldn’t help but think of how I had leaned in to kiss him and how he had pushed me away with a look of incredulity. I cared very much for my friendship with David and even as the glow of my orgasm ebbed, I felt the fear rise up within me that my friendship with him was altered irreparably. Would he feel regret the next day? Would it be awkward between us? Or had our friendship come to a fork and we had hurtled in a new direction? As I laid there thinking I wanted to say something, but not knowing what, David burst out laughing.

“Can you believe we just did that?” he asked, shaking his head. He lifted his hand and examined the wet indistinguishable goo of our combined semen. He stood up, and I couldn’t help but notice that he smelled that hand. I smelled mine too. It smelled of bleach and musk and reminded me of the way a salt marsh sometimes smelled at low tide during spring time.

“It was fun,” I said, allowing myself another whiff.
(continued)

 

[DavidXL]

[thanks again for reading - this is the end of part 1 of this chapter]

I think there was a part of David who wanted to forget that anything had happened between us. It had happened, however. Both of us had wanted it, and there would be no forgetting. But, the tension that had existed between us had evaporated on that night. We were undeniably close. We trusted each other. There was an unspoken affection between us that transcended ordinary friendship but did not breach the intimacy that lovers otherwise would have shared. That’s not to say it wasn’t magical in its own right. But, what I had with Dusty was so much more. If anyone else thought anything about what Dusty and I were up to, no one was saying it. At this point, however, I wasn’t thinking about other people. It was just us.

* * *

When I think back to the excitement I felt on that first date Dusty and I had at Garden of the Orient, it was nothing compared to what I felt as Dusty and I headed off to New York together. Normally, I can think of few things I would rather do less than spend 7 hours on a bus. But, setting off on an adventure with Dusty made it almost thrilling. We each had a bag stowed below in the luggage compartment of the Trailways bus that belched exhaust and groaned in low gears as it climbed the mountain roadways and traversed the countryside of rural Vermont on the journey to the grit and commotion of New York.

New York both excited and terrified me back then. I had only been twice with my parents. Dusty had never been. That added even more to the sense of adventure. The plan was that we would arrive late Thursday. Dusty would interview at Columbia on Friday, and we had the rest of the weekend to ourselves. I was keen to visit New York, of course. But, even more tantalizing was the prospect of spending the night in the same bed with Dusty, something we had not been able to arrange since the night before Christmas break. We were staying at the apartment of a Middlebury graduate named Will Brewster. Dusty had been friends with Will who now attended Columbia Medical School and lived in a married students apartment with his wife, Claire, who he had married right after graduation. They would be there Thursday evening, but were leaving for the weekend on Friday after class, which meant that Dusty and I would have the apartment to ourselves. Knowing that we had the whole weekend together and 2 full nights alone was almost too exciting to think about.

The anticipation grew as the countryside and then the suburbs of metropolitan New York gave way to the congestion and the tall buildings and the swarming masses of people. As much as I enjoyed being with Dusty, we both were eager to get there and get off the bus. The bus dropped us off at the Port Authority Bus Station on West 42nd Street, which was a shithole we both wanted to escape as soon as possible. By the time we made it up to Morningside Heights, we were pretty exhausted. At the same time, however, we had the energy of youth and wanted to explore the immediate area even if the neighborhood was sketchy.

Will and Claire were nice and hospitable. We all went out to have dinner at a local diner and then for beers at the on-campus pub. Will and his wife were each 24, which seemed old to me. They seemed so mature to me in a way that underscored how young I was. It also underscored the age difference between Dusty and me. Will introduced us to some of his friends, and we had a good time. As much fun as we had that evening, however, it was easy for me to picture Dusty here, which was a painful thought for me. I didn’t want him to leave Middlebury. I didn’t want him to leave me. I didn’t have my head in the sand, and I knew it would happen in the not-too-distant future. I just didn’t want to think about it.

Will and Claire’s apartment was a small one bedroom apartment. By the time we got back, it was late. We had had a long day that had begun in Vermont and ended in what might be Dusty’s new home depending on how everything worked out. The apartment had a pull-out couch in the living room. There was a brief conversation about whether one of us would toss a coin to get to sleep on the couch with the other one taking the floor. But, then Will said, “Don’t be silly. It’s not as if you guys are a couple of fruitcakes. You can share the bed, and one of you can sleep in our room over the weekend after we leave.”

Dusty and I looked at each other and shrugged our acceptance. We smiled wryly at each other at the thought of Will’s unknowing irony. We changed into our pajamas and got ready for bed. When it came time to crawl into bed and turn out the lights, Will and Claire said goodnight and closed their bedroom door. We laid there in silence for a handful of minutes, not sure what would happen but knowing that something would. It would have to. I never tired of the magic of Dusty’s cock or the pleasure it gave me to have him share the gifts that mine could give. Finally, Dusty reached over and slid his hand underneath the elastic of my pajama bottoms. My cock was soft, but not for long. I reached over and felt his cock, which was hard and had poked through fly of his pajamas. I stroked it softly as he stroked mine, each of us careful not to make any noise that would cause us to get caught.

From behind the closed door, I could hear the soft, rhythmic sound of the bed creaking as Will and Claire coupled quietly. Dusty heard it, too, and we exchanged amused, knowing glances. It gave us each a charge to know our hosts were going at it and taking failed pains so that we would not hear. As the creaking continued with metrical steadiness, Dusty lowered his head under the sheets. His mouth found my cock and he swirled his lips and tongue around it. I stifled the moans and the gasps that fought to burgeon forth from within me. The inability to vocally acknowledge my pleasure and the danger of being caught only served to heighten it. Dusty had lost his gag reflex and swallowed me all the way to the very base of my cock and then some as his lips pressed against the mash of skin and hair compacted against my pubic bone. I was so charged up from the oral and manual precision with which Dusty had manipulated my cock that I knew I couldn’t hold back from coming for long.

As Will’s tempo reached a quiet crescendo that surely meant he was on the edge of unloading his semen inside of Claire, I reached my own point of no return. I choked back and swallowed the moans of my orgasm that struggled to break free. I came in virtual silence, with only a single, quiet gasp as my fingers squeezed the curls of Dusty’s hair the only outward manifestation as I deposited a volley of seminal bursts down his throat. When he had sucked me dry, my head collapsed back onto the pillow. I closed my eyes as I savored the waning tendrils of ecstasy for as long as I could. As I did, Dusty lifted his whole body up from under the covers and knelt above me. He slapped his engorged glans, slippery with precum, against my mouth. My lips parted, and he squirted his own load in my mouth before the ecstatic glow ebbed from my body. I welcomed his slippery, salty load inside me. He collapsed onto the bed and pulled the sheets above us. Exhausted after a long day that had begun in Vermont and ended in the exalted pleasure of a shared pull-out couch with Dusty, we each fell into a deep slumber.