Best-Friend Fantasy Comes True

[sfcfml]

Part IX

That's it, I'm gay.

That was my thought as Kirk, Brad and I barreled southbound down a windy, two-lane road toward our homes in Iowa on a chilly late-August morning.

What else could I think? In the last 12 hours, I had jacked off a high school senior who had turned 18 just two days earlier, gotten unmistakably aroused by the experience, and had done nothing to stop the hockey player from masturbating me to climax. And it was Kirk's cousin, for crying out loud! Kirk, my best friend, who'd give his shirt off his back for me. Kirk's shirt. Off. His back. Bare back. Fuck!

Gay, gay gay!

I felt like I needed to barf.

"So Stu." That was Brad, Kirk's 23-year-old brother.

"Hey."

"Hey. Wake up."

"I'm awake."

"Question: You think Alison is hot?"

Alison. Kirk's cousin Alison. Did I think she was hot? Actually, I did. I DID think Alison was hot, and just hour before I had jacked off Andy, I had been fantasizing about her, about how she'd be turned on by the site of me naked in the sauna and would have no choice but to bring me to climax.

"Sure. I guess. She's hot. Yeah."

"You GUESS!" Brad was flabbergasted. "I saw how you were looking at her, you little horndog."

"Like you should talk."

"What do you mean by that?"

Kirk chimed in and told his brother to cut the crap, that everybody knew he had been chasing Alison's tail. His COUSIN's tail. What a perv. He could go to jail, for crying out loud. Those were Kirk's words.

It was true, Alison did have a nice tail. Even better breasts. I wanted to fuck them.

As I leaned back to ponder how straight I really was, Kirk pushed down the passenger-side sun visor, which put the crotch of his jeans on full display to me in the makeup mirror. He was bulging more than usual. He might have even been getting hard. I couldn't be sure.

But I was sure I was getting hard, right there in the back seat, as I thought about Alison's tits, Andy's semen, and Kirk's crotch, all at once. Even Brad was looking delicious.

I closed my eyes and pretended to sleep. It was too much for a 19-year-old to take.

* * *

I came to life just as we reached the city traffic of Minneapolis. Ten minutes later, the city's skyline was on my right. Seeing the Metrodome baseball stadium brought to mind the time I had gone there with my family and had my first experience of a guy palming himself at a urinal by watching my dick. He must have been 40, and he got hard pretty quick. His erection looked mean and angry, completely different than the sweetness I was used to seeing on myself in the bathroom mirror when I opened the shower curtain to watch myself jack off in the bathroom mirror.

I dashed from the restroom without washing my hands, zipping as I went. The beginnings of my trembles were from fear, but those gave way to trembles from excitement. Twenty minutes later, I excused myself from the stadium and found myself back in the restroom, in a stall, jacking off, fantasizing about what I had seen and what I had done.

I had made ANOTHER GUY HARD!

* * *

It was about an hour before sunset when we got back to Iowa. We had to drive right by Kirk's farm to get to my house, and what we saw was a relief. The hail damage was not as bad as first feared, but still, it was substantial, and we talked about how there was no question that he'd be taking the semester off from college to help with the harvest since his dad was no longer with them. I was bummed by that.

When we reached my mom's house, Kirk climbed out of the front seat to help me with my stuff and jiggled my shoulder while saying we had to get together at least one last time before I headed back to college. Even in the dusk, his eyes were sparkling blue and super sincere. I looked toward my shoes but let my eyes get caught on his crotch for just a second. What a beautiful guy, I thought. As we shook hands, I realized that just hours ago that very hand had been encircled around another guy's erection for the very first time.

I thought about how I wanted Kirk to be next.

* * *

"Hey, Mom."

I avoided eye contact as I entered the house, fearing my mother could see in her son's eyes that just hours earlier her little boy had jacked off an 18-year-old hockey player in Minnesota.

"Welcome home, Stu. I'm sorry the trip got cut short."

"Me too." I was lying, halfway. I hated fishing but I loved spending time with Kirk.

"You guys had fun for a while, at least?"

"Sure."

"And he had a pole and tackle for you to use."

"Sure." I swallowed hard. "Others did, too."

"You OK, Stu?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know. You just seem, a little burdened with something."

"No, I'm fine. Just tired."

"Wash your hands--"

"Why?"

"Let me finish, son. Wash your hands, sit down, and I'll make you some cream of mushroom soup."

"I'm really not hungry."

"Oh, Stu. You've got to eat."

"Hmm."

"Why are you so nervous?"

"I'm not nervous."

"Well, here. Maybe this will make you feel better." Mom handed me an envelope about a half inch thick. "Some mail came this morning, for you, from college. Looks like it's from the Residence Life department. It's thick. Must be good news."

In an instant, my mind shifted from the previous day's sexual experience with a hockey player to the previous spring's interview to be a Resident Advisor. A few months earlier I had applied to oversee a dorm floor of Freshmen guys and was awaiting word on whether I had been hired. I was just a sophomore, so I was on the waiting list, but the staff had been impressed by my maturity and suggested it might work out.

I ripped open the package and when I read that the cover letter began with the word "congratulations," I beamed.

"It's good news, isn't it Stu."

"Yeah, mom, it is."

The letter went on to confirm that I had been hired as an RA, and then explained that my floor would be made up of Freshmen, nearly all of them student athletes -- not football players and others already on campus who were playing a fall sport, but those who were expecting to participate in intercollegiate baseball, wrestling, and swimming. Behind the cover letter were thirty-four one-page questionnaires that each student-athlete had filled out over the summer -- hometown, family stuff, likes and dislikes, athletic history, and a few other things. To nearly every questionnaire was affixed a senior graduation picture.

I felt myself leaking down below.

"What's in the stack?" My sister wanted to know.

"Looks like questionnaires, stuff the guys filled out about themselves."

"Let me see." She wanted to see the studs.

"No, let me--"

"Geez, Stu, your hands are shaking!"

"No they're not."

"Sure they are. You nervous?"

"No. I must, um, be hungry."

Mom chimed in. "I'll put on the cream of mushroom soup."

OK, soup sounded good, but I had to get the stack of studs out of the area. I scurried to my room, closed the door, and quickly paged through the incoming Freshmen biographies. I could not believe my eyes. The young men were, almost without exception, a clean-cut group of smiling high school jocks in the primes of their lives. Each and every one was probably the big man on campus in their little Iowa high schools. Some sat in traditional poses while others incorporated dogs or even a couple horses into their senior photos. Farm kids, I thought. Still others featured letter jackets.

But one picture two thirds from the back made me stop cold. It was of a young man in a baseball jersey and jeans. His name was Jay, and he had short brown hair and a perfect smile. The questionnaire said he played shortstop, and pitched a little too. He also had played football and basketball, but baseball was his love, and what he'd be playing in college. In Jay's picture, his jersey was untucked from a pair of stone-washed 501s. The photographer had posed the young man in a way so that his s baseball jersey was draping away from his crotch, which featured an unmistakable bulge in the stonewashed denim.

My eyes went from Jay's dark brown eyes to the crotch of his jeans to his jersey and back to his eyes. They were dark brown, soulful, and delicious.

"Stu, soup's ready."

I went back to Jay's crotch. Yes, he most definitely was a guy! Mmmm ...

Come and get it ..."

I tried to tame my erection.

"... while it's creamy."

It was no use. I unbuttoned my shorts, snaked my erection through the fly of my boxers, scanned Jay from top to bottom, positioned my crotch over my wastepaper basket, and pulled and pushed to prepare my penis for the inevitable.

"Stu!"

I didn't need any spit. Jay had made sure there was plenty of precum.

"STU-art?"

I hated it when she used that tone of voice.

"Dinner ..."

At that point, my 19-year-old plumbing went over the edge, to the point of no return. Was the door locked? Uh oh. It was too late.

"Stu ..."

I was focusing more on Jay than my aim.

"Are you coming?"

The first two shots landed on the wallpaper, behind the trash can.

I grunted, and then tried to respond. "Yeah, mom, I'm--"

If someone else had been in the room at that point, they would have heard four wads of semen plop onto the papers on the bottom of my garbage can.

"The cream of mushroom is not going to stay hot all night, Stuart."

Jay's eyes looked so kind. He looked like fun. Damn, what was under that jersey?! Fuck!

"I'm coming, mom."

I thought to myself that Jay masturbated a lot, probably several times a day, probably in his baseball jersey. Afterward, his hand probably looked a lot like mine.

"Almost done ..."

Probably smelled like my hand did, too.

"With what, Stu?"

His hand probably tasted like mine, too. He ate his cum. I was sure of it.

"Just taking care of something."

"Well, don't forget to wash your hands."

Two minutes later, cream of mushroom soup never tasted so good.

 

[DonQuixote]

sfcfml,
That was certainly interesting!
What a juxtaposition of MOM calling in about Cream of Mushroom Soup and Fresh Creme a la Cock du Horn!

It was a great read - borderline perv, or maybe way over borderline -- jerking off to your mother extolling the virtues of Fresh, HOT Cream of Mushroom soup, egging you on to HURRY with your business.

Unbelievable. Very believable! Incredible, any way you slice or spoon it!

And on THAT note, I have to head off to work!

Keep up the good authorship! I know you'll keep the rest of it up!

 

[hardreader]

That chapter was tasty. And ceamy too. Like cream of mushroom soup. Oh, I better go wash my hands.

 

[moorpark]

Where Are You!!!!!!!!!! The Best Story On Here!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

[sfcfml]

Part X

I had two nights at home before heading to college and five days of Resident Advisor training. Finally, after training, I'd get to meet Jay and the 33 other Freshmen student athletes I'd be in charge of in the guys' dorms. I felt like I knew them already -- intimately so, thanks to the magic of masturbation.

I hate to say it, but my buddy Kirk was not at the forefront of my mind.

On Tuesday morning, I had one last wank in bed and then packed up my stuff to reach campus at five minutes to 5, just in time for dinner. And there, over a plate of gooey spaghetti and toasted hot dog buns masquerading as garlic toast, I met her, or at least her name tag. Rebecca. A beautiful name ...

I could tell right away that Rebecca was athletic, and gorgeous. Her medium-brown hair was shoulder length and lush. It had just a hint of a wave, and she wore just the right amount of makeup around her green eyes. Her face looked sort of Italian, and when she smiled, she'd wrinkle her nose before lifting her upper lip and revealing a perfect set of teeth. She was wearing a v-neck T-shirt -- intended for a guy, it seemed, but it fit her perfectly. By that I mean it fit her chest quite snugly, which, to be honest, made me a little snug in the shorts myself.

I thought to myself, why do girls look so good in guys' clothing? Weird.

I thought to myself, Rebecca looked sort of like Jay, except she was a girl. Double weird.

"Uh, hi. Are you there?"

"Oh, ah, sorry. Rebecca?"

"Hi. Hello. You're Stuart?"

"Stu."

"Nice to meet you."

"You go by Becky?"

"I hate that name." A garlic-laden hot dog bun was then waved in my face. "Say it again, and you're toast." Then Rebecca smiled.

"Um, OK. Don't hit me! But for me, Stu is fine. Really."

"So what's your assignment, Stu?"

"Assignment? Like, for class?"

"No, doehead. Your assignment. In the dorms. Where you at?"

"Oh, sure. Ah, Johnson hall, second floor. You?"

"Murray Hall, first floor. Looks like mainly sophomores."

"That's me."

"Huh?

"Sophomore. I'm a sophomore."

"Oh, really? And an RA?" Rebecca's nose was starting to wrinkle. She was preparing to laugh, apparently at me.

"Well, Stu, that should be interesting for you?" Rebecca's green eyes looked were filled with mischief.

"What makes you say that?"

"Hopefully they don't eat you alive."

"What do you mean?"

"This is my second year. I'm a senior, so I've done this before."

"Oh. So you're, what, 21?"

"Twenty-two. I took off a year after high school, before college."

"I see."

"So Stu you're, what, 20?"

"Nineteen. I'll be 20 in January."

I saw Rebecca's eyes go from mine, to my chest, and for a split second to my crotch. "You look about 16."

"Yeah, well ..."

"They're gonna eat you alive, Stu. Eat you alive ..."

* * *

After dinner, the RAs gathered for our first training session, which was more of a get-to-know-each-other opportunity than anything. I was one of only two sophomore RAs. The other was Jake, a burly high school wrestler from Kansas who must've tipped the scales at a good 240. The rest of the crew seemed so much older and wiser than me. Rebecca's words kept resonating through my head. Nerves got the best of me and I ended up dropping a glass of Coke on the Dean of Student's shoes. It was Rebecca who came to my rescue with a towel and reassurance.

By 9:30, I was finally making my way to Johnson Hall, my home for the next nine months. My Freshmen year had been spent in Bennett Hall and I had been inside Johnson only a couple times, and then only briefly, so the territory was basically new. I had forgotten how old Johnson was, though thankfully the concrete-block walls seemed to have gotten a fresh coat of paint over the summer. Bennett, by contrast, was newer and seemed better designed, with a nice lounge in the center and a bathroom with decent sinks, individual toilet stalls (so the floor could be for men or women), and private showers.

But I would have to make the best of it, and it was good to have a job that helped alleviate the expenses for my widowed mom. I was assigned to Room 201, a single room in a corner. I carried up a TV, then a box, then a suitcase, and then went in search of the bathroom to take a pee.

I found a row of urinals just inside the door, with a pedestal sink and mirror next to those and two more sinks on the opposite wall. Past the toilet stalls was a tiled room perhaps 12 feet long and 8 feet wide with a wall of glass blocks at the end. Several silver hooks were just outside the entrance, and inside the room were one, two, three, four, five six shower heads. Just shower heads. Well, and six dishes for six bars of soap.

But no curtains. No privacy dividers. Just shower heads. Six. In one room. For 34 Freshmen. And me.

At that point, there was only one thing to do. I made a beeline for the car to retrieve my backpack, which contained Jay's photo. Once the door was locked, I stripped off my t-shirt, kicked off the cargo shorts, left on the overhead light, reclined on the bare mattress, and pushed my boxers to my knees and groaned at the realization that in just days the bulge I saw in those jeans would be revealed in the shower. The gang shower. There would be no hiding. Not for Jay. Not from me. No way.

Then I closed my eyes and engaged in some virtual reality.

It would be the first week of class, 8:20 in the morning. Both Jay and I would have class at 9. I'd meet him just as he was coming out of his room. He'd be carrying shampoo and wearing only a towel, and over his bare shoulder I'd see that his roommate was gone and that Jay had left a pair of blue checkered boxers next to the bed.

I'd let the Freshmen pass in front of me. He'd thank me with a dimpled but nervous grin. As I'd follow Jay down the hall, I'd take note of the days-old haircut from his hometown barber. Jay's back would be toned from a summer of lifting weights at his alma mater high school, and his butt would look muscular even through the towel. He'd walk with confidence but not cockiness toward the bathroom, and once inside he'd head for the day's first pee. So would I, stealing a glance at what Jay fished out from underneath the terry cloth.

I'd be surprised by what I'd see -- not that Jay's penis was huge, but that he seemed to be plumped up and that the head seemed to glisten. As we stood there, side by side, in just our towels, it would take Jay a little while to get the stream going, and once it did, he'd give a little grunt of discomfort.

Once at the sink, I'd find out why. The explanation could be seen over the baseball player's right pec. Jay had -- to steal a phrase -- put one in the bleachers on this beautiful morning. I would become clear that after the shortstop was done stroking, groaning, grunting, and shooting, he dropped his cum-soaked boxers to the floor without wiping off the watery glob of cum farther up on his chest. The over-the-tit-shot was pretty impressive. Nice homerun, baseball boy! And now, as I looked at him in the mirror, it was beginning to run onto his nipple.

The Freshmen would hang his towel on a hook and reveal his bare backside, one that I knew would look delicious in baseball pants. I'd choose the shower head right next to Jay's. He'd have his back to me as he'd bend over to place the shampoo on the floor, giving me a little glimpse of his testicles, testicles that were part of the plumbing that just moments ago had erupted with joy. Then he'd stand, turn on the water, adjust the temperature, and step into the spray to for the first time reveal to me--

Knock, knock, knock ...

Fuck!

"Ah. Um. Who's there?"

"Rebecca. Stu, that you?"

The squeak of bedsprings seemed to reverberate off the cement block walls.

"Ah, yeah, it's me."

"Can I come in?"

"Well, no, I, uh. Well. Gimme a minute."

I put on my cargo shorts, kicked my boxers under the bed, and couldn't find my shirt. This was taking forever. Fuck! So I opened the door and faked a yawn.

"Hey. Was just heading to bed."

Rebecca looked at the bare, sheetless mattress, then at me. I shrugged. She grinned.

"You OK, Stu?" Rebecca took a step toward me and put an index finger to my bare chest. "You're a little red, right here."

I said I was fine and found my shirt. As my head emerged from the shirt's opening, I caught Rebecca eyeing my crotch. I was still hard, basically. Oops. I hoped to God I wasn't leaking.

"Thought you might like some company." Rebecca was making herself at home. "It can be a little lonely at first, around here. Wanted to make sure you were OK, after the thing with the dean and all."

When Rebecca's butt hit the bare mattress, I was glad that she was sitting where she couldn't see my boxers.

"What's this?"

"Oh, just one of the bios of the Freshmen." I stood in front of Rebecca, trying to draw her attention away from Jay's picture, but it was no use.

"He's cute."

"If you say so."

"Jay, eh? Baseball player. Here's my prediction, Stu. You're going to have your hands full."

Of Jay, I hoped.

"Think so?"

"Know so. Here's my thought. Jay's got a girlfriend at home. He's too cute not to. Those doey, brown eyes. Fills out those jeans might fine. A real lady killer. The girlfriend's gonna spend the night a few times. There's gonna be some drama about his roommate having to sleep in the lounge, so get ready. Jay's gonna dump her, for sure by the start of baseball season, the little player. He's a stud, Stu. Watch out. I can see it in his eyes, and the way's he's sitting. Hope Jay's got an understanding roommate, because Jay is going to have some romance. He'll be a busy boy."

"Hmm."

"How about you? You a busy boy?"

"What do you mean?"

"Romance?"

"No, no girlfriend at the time."

"You've had some, though?

"Sure. How 'bout you."

"Single and loving it." Rebecca bit her lower lip. "But it's been awhile ..." My eyes were locked into her green eyes, but she broke the stare and made little to hide that she was scanning my body. "Loving it ..."

I stayed silent, but Rebecca didn't. "Loving it, Stu."

Old and wise Rebecca was doing little to hide the fact that she was taking great delight in scanning my body from head to toe. In return, I did nothing to hide that I was staring at her breasts. She stayed seated as she lightly placed her palms on the back of my cargo shorts but then stood and initiated a kiss -- no peck on the lips, but a deep, tongue-filled, exploration of my mouth. I breathed through my nose as her saliva mixed with mine. My chest filled with warmth as I embraced the older woman and returned the kiss, the deepest I had ever been involved with. She gasped and shuddered as I moved to her neck. Before I placed my hands on her breasts, I adjusted my erection so it would point toward my belly as I pressed it into her thigh. It felt good, and I wanted her to feel it too.

"Whoa!"

"What's wrong?"

"You're HARD, Stu!"

I stayed silent, but Rebecca didn't. "That ... turns ... me ... ON!"

Through my shorts, Rebecca began examining the midpoint of my hardened shaft. Next was the base, then a little on my balls, and finally to the tip. "And you're WET!"

The experience of having a woman -- an older woman! -- confirm the moistness of my male plumbing almost sent me over the edge.

"You little sophomore you ..."

Rebecca began trying to get my cargo shorts over my hips. "Bet you got energy to burn." It was true, I did. "You a stud? You like Jay?"

Well, I did like Jay.

"I want you inside me, you little young buck." She kissed me again. "And I'm not waiting till you turn 20, you little teen turn-on."

After I did some unbuttoning on myself, I did some on Rebecca and then returned my hands to her back and then her ass. By then, the 22-year-old's palm had found my 19-year-old naked penis. I put my hands under her pants. She worked with the skill of a woman who clearly had done this before. Several times before.

And then, for some reason, I realized I had done it before. Once. Less than a week ago. I had jacked off Andy, the 18-year-old hockey player, in the northern Minnesota sauna. And he had done the same thing -- this very thing -- to me. The experience of having another person hold my penis as it convulsed and spewed semen from its reddened tip had been utterly amazing, and one that I--

"Rebec-- I, uh--"

Rebecca made the best of a messy situation and the bare fact I would not be inside her. Not that night, anyway.

 

[pe_gay89]

Nice work! Some very promising situations coming up. Especially if Becky (she can't get me on the other side of the pond!!! ) is right about Jay and the room mate situation.

 

[DonQuixote]

Wow, I thought I'd posted when I read this, earlier.

A very interesting Chapter X - welcome to College, old boy. You want to be a Resident Advisor, let me help you learn some of the practical points you might need to know about.

Poor boy, a little premature ejaculation problem? Well, at least she knows she has a "positive" effect on him! lol.

Great writing SFCFML. I'm thoroughly enjoying your vignettes as they cum along.

Will his fantasy shower cum true, too? A six pack shower stall - forces some close encounters, but doesn't leave any privacy should you want to shower with your studly.

We devour our artists episodes so ravenously, then hound them mercilessly for more More MORE! Sometimes with precious little thanks given to those who work so hard for our enjoyment.

THANKS! This is a fun, hot, can't wait to see what you do with them next, story.

 

[harry113]

Thanks, great chapter, quite impressive !!
More please
Harry

 

[over there]

WOW, I go into some kinda crazy trance reading this...You, sfcfml, are OUTSTANDING!

 

[gaytxn09]

That was a great update. Keep 'em coming.

 

[kiwidave]

Awesome story! can't wait for the next chapter.

Thanks for all your time posting and keeping us entertained.

 

[sfcfml]

Part XI

The morning after my abrupt handjob from Rebecca, we gathered for Day 2 of Resident Advisor training and I was as confused as ever. Just the sight of Rebecca at breakfast made me bone up. Well, it wasn't so much the sight of her as it was the realization that SHE wanted ME inside of HER. Damn! Fuck!

Crunching on raisin bran, there seemed little doubt that Rebecca was going to be my first-ever fuck. That night. In my room. She'd have her shirt on while we did it. No, wait, she'd just be wearing socks, and so would I, and ...

"Stuart?"

A grandmotherly lady with whitish hair and glasses around her neck interrupted my fantasy.

"Stu. Hi, uh, Stu is fine."

"Stu. Good morning Stu. Say, we haven't met yet, but I'm Linda, the assistant dean of residence life."

"Hey."

"Say, Stu, we've had a late substitution on your dorm floor. One of the student-athletes won't be coming, and we'll be replacing him with another boy -- er, young man."

"Uh, OK."

"Thought you'd want to know, since I know we sent out those biographies to you a few weeks ago with hopes you'd spend some time getting acquainted with the guys who'll be on the floor. Did you get a good look?"

"I looked at most of them."

"Did you come on anybody you knew?"

"Wha-- What do you mean by that?"

What I remember is Linda responding with some answer about how sometimes the residents will have grown up in the same town as their RAs, or maybe had gone to the same church, or maybe had met at a sports camp or something. I wasn't sure because I was struggling to understand whether she had any hint of the degree to which Jay, the delicious shortstop, had been on my mind. The biography picture, his grin, the 501s, the bulge, the numerous orgasms at his expense.

"Nope, Linda. Can't say I knew any of the guys. I guess I soon will."

"Yes, you will. With one exception. The substitution. Shoot. I wish I could remember the young man's name. Jay? 'J' something. Starts with a 'J' ..."

It couldn't be!

* * *

After lunch I took a walk by myself and swore off guys in general and baseball players in particular. Rebecca appeared seemeingly out of nowhere.

"Hey, Stu. Haven't talked to you yet today."

"Hey, Rebecca. It's really good to see you."

"Haven't had a chance to say thanks for last night."

"Well, I'm sorry I--"

"Shh." Rebecca sqeezed my cheek. On my face, that is. "No worries, Stu. I had fun. THAT's fun. I like it and hope you did. You feel, ah, great. Perfect, really."

"Perfect? Well, I didn't mean to, you know, before we could, you know."

"Shh."

Rebecca put her lips to mine and kept her tongue to herself this time. I felt like I was floating.

The afternoon was a blur. All I could think of was Rebecca -- her lips, the way she tasted, the way her hair felt against my neck when we kissed. She felt just right. She made me want to touch myself not so I felt good, but so I could make her feel good. What would it be like? What would it be like to lose my virginity?

* * *

It was just before dinner when Linda asked me to come to her office so she could "fill me in on the substitution."

"Now?"

"Sure. C'mon down."

Linda's basement office seemed forever away. I had already prepared myself for the news. Jay would not be living on my dorm floor for the next nine months. I could deal with that. To be honest, I didn't care. I just wanted to get my rocks off. While on top of Rebecca. As soon as possible.

"You OK, Stuart? You seem in a hurry."

"N-no. Just hungry."

"Well, there will still be a taco or two for you when we're done."

"Huh?"

"It's taco night. You'll like them."

I leaned back in my chair and pulled my knees together.

"What's wrong, Stu?"

"Nothing."

Linda shuffled through a stack of papers and fished out the biography of the student I wouldn't be seeing. "Yes, here it is. Jay--"

That was that.

"Jayson Walters."

Four legs of the chair returned to the floor as I leaned toward Linda, spread my kness, and put my elbow on one of them.

"Says here he withdrew. Would've been on the soccer team, looks like. Something about his financial aid, I guess. Too bad. Good looking kid."

No denying that. No sir.

"We're replacing him with this young man. Hmm. He's not an athlete, I see. Ezekiel."

"Ezekiel? That's his name?"

"Yes, Ezekiel. Maybe he goes by Zeke. Probably. He's from Indianapolis and had been admitted to, let's see ... a performing arts school in, ah, Ohio, but that didn't work out, so I guess, so he's coming here instead, and he's, hmm ..."

"Is there something wrong?"

"Well, here's his picture. It's just a fax copy, because he's such a late addition."

Linda handed over the fax. Ezekiel was wearing all black but not much of a smile. His hair was straight and strange, in the eyes of a 19-year-old from a small Iowa town at least, and his jeans were very unlike what I was used to wearing.

And Zeke wore a chain. A chain. It ran from his shoulder to his, um ...

"Wait here. Maybe there's been some mistake." Linda left her office for a minute, only to return to say we'd have to make the best of it. The only place for Zeke was on the student-athlete floor, she explained.

"Let's see, his roommate will be ..."

There was no doubt in my mind what was coming next.

"Jay, ah--"

"Jay Roberts."

"You know him."

"Ah, no. Not really. He just sticks out in my mind, I guess. Baseball player. I like baseball."

"Did you play in high school."

"N-no, but I--"

"Well, Ezekiel's from a pretty big school and big town, and Jay, well, looks like he's from a pretty small town. Good looking kid. Jay, that is. Probably used to being the big fish in a small pond. Prom king, all that. Looks like baseball's his thing, but says here he was the high school quarterback too. And played in the band. Interesting. Zeke could be his polar opposite. Look, Stu, if you need any help, you come on down, OK?"

* * *

Rebecca was on taco No. 3 by the time I found her, and she had one more to go.

"Take your time, Stu."

"What, does it look like I'm hurrying?"

"We've got all night."

I stopped chewing long enough to shoot Rebecca a seductive grin. She returned my look with a little tiger-like growl. Fuck!

Before long we were out of there. Rebecca suggested we go for a walk to talk. All I wanted to do was fuck her brains out. But she was older and wiser, so off we went.

"So you're a sophomore. What else?"

"what else do you want to know?"

"Where are you from?"

It was true. Rebecca knew about my cum before she knew where I had come from.

I explained my background -- how my school had its city kids and its farm kids, how we had the only K-Mart for 40 miles, how most of us who went to college had to move away to find decent jobs. Rebecca explained that she was from the suburbs of Des Moines, had played softball, and had even wrestled. On the boys team. Until 9th grade, anyway.

I tried to imagine what it must've been like in ninth grade to have a girl's hands all over my body with an audience watching. Then I tried to imagine what it would've been like to have my hands all over other boys' bodies. Kirk's, for instance.

I wasn't fully engaged when Rebecca started talking about what she was studying. I was pretty sure she said she was going to be a physician's assistant, or something like that, and would graduate on time in the spring after getting some clinical experience. I did hear her say she had done well in science, and I said I had done really well the previous year in human biology and chemistry too but that my grades were dragged down by Intro to Lit and Freshmen Comp.

As for our romantic pasts, I fed her enough to figure out I had never had sexual intercourse before, and she let it be known that she most certainly had. Lots of times. And I told her about Kirk -- my best friend, soul mate, the farm boy who had to give up college this year because his dad had died and he was needed on the farm. I gave no clue to Rebecca that I had lusted after Kirk's body since the first day I had seen him in the junior high showers. At that point, to be honest, I wasn't sure that I lusted after him at all. There was no quesiton that he was my buddy and always would be, but sex with Kirk? Probably not.

Then I explained that my dad had died too and it was as if a tornado had hit.

"Oh my gosh Stu. I'm sorry."

"It's OK."

"I had no idea. I wouldn't have--"

"You would've have what?"

"I wouldn't have, you know, come onto you so strong if I had know that your--"

"What difference does that make?"

"I don't know. Maybe he's, well ..."

"Watching?"

"Ah ..."

"From heaven?"

"I don't know. Maybe. Oh, Stu. I'm sorry. I just can't imagine ..."

On the outskirts of campus, I took Rebecca's hand in mine and realized that when it came to life and death, I was the one with the experience. Not her.

We parted with a simple kiss. She wanted it that way tonight at least. I didn't. Because I was flowing with emotion, I was flowing with sexual energy.

* * *

All was silent on my dorm floor, but I knew that soon it wouldn't be. It was Wednesday night, and move-in day was Saturday. I stripped and headed for a shower, wearing a towel but around my neck. In the bathroom I scanned my naked body in the mirror and wondered why exactly Rebecca found me attractive.

I considered myself pretty average looking, to be honest. I certainly wasn't used to turning girls' heads. They liked me, but usually after getting to know me and my personality. Rebecca seemed different. She honestly seemed to find me physically attractive. Even hot. Why?

True, the acne was gone as was the baby fat. I had toned up a lot, particularly in the chest where a thin rail of hair was starting to appear between my pecs, which thanks to the weights I could make jiggle a little. I didn't have a six-pack exactly. More like a four-pack, and it was a recent development brought on by a mixture of testosterone, weights, and running.

I wished my dick was bigger, but I was coming to realize there was nothing I could do about that. I was a grower more than a shower, and 5.5 inches of hardness wasn't all that bad. I liked it. Loved it. It was mine, even though it often had a life of its own. There was no question that 5.5 inches is what Rebecca had held in her hand the previous night, and she seemed to like it too. And Andy also held my--

Fuck. Andy.

Our impromptu jack-off session in the sauna. 18 years old, hockey player, fucking hot. I did him, then he did me.

It had happened after he let it be known he'd be having a sports physical the next day, with a "lady doctor" for the first time. Sitting in the sauna, I had let my mind wander, thinking about how thorough of an exam the doctor would give the new 18-year-old, how she'd position him in front of a mirror over a sink to demonstrate testicular self-examination, explaining that the shower was the best place to do it but that the doctor's office would have to do, and that it should be fine today because they were "hanging" nicely. The experience of watching an attractive, young, female doctor examine his "hanging" balls would cause the organ above them to become taut against his belly as she kept the other hand on a shoulder more accustomed to wearing a jersey and pads than feeling a doctor's touch.

Andy had told me he was worried that he'd get hard during the exam. My suggestion was that he jack off beforehand. So, he did. Well, we did. Right then and there. Each other. And I had liked it. A lot.

I looked myself in the eyes, really deeply. I didn't seem to know me. Then I looked down at my penis almost flat against my belly, like Andy's would have been in the doctor's office. I rolled my right testicle between my thumb and first two fingers, and then the larger left. They felt so good. Like what the doctor had felt on Andy. Like what I had felt on Andy. I moved my hand to my erect dick. It felt great. Like what Rebecca had felt on me. Like what I had felt on Andy.

I left the towel in the sink and watched my dick bob as I headed for the shower. I chose a showerhead in the center of one of the walls and it took a little while for the hot spray of the shower to kick in. The jet of water on my erection make it start to subside. I soaped up my face and then my chest and abs. I was slippery and slimy. Mmmmmm.

I washed my legs and feet and then bathed my crotch with loving kindness. And thoroughly. Rebecca might be visiting it. Soon. Maybe with her mouth. Ohhhhh. But not tonight, so I could let loose. Here. In the shower. Why not?

First, I soaped up my butt. My testicles were hanging nice and low, just as I liked them. I teased my penis. It wanted to be hard, but I wouldn't allow it. Not yet. Everything in its time.

I turned 180 degrees and let the warm shower beat gently onto my back and the back of my neck. Mmmmmmmm. I closed my eyes and spread my crack to wash out the soap. Then I did something I didn't do all that often. My right index finger went in first, and then, just a little. Then two fingers, a little farther, a little farther. I drew them out, then put them back in. Again. Again. I breathed in deeply and exhaled slowly as I moved my hand to my dick. Now it was time. I moaned very quietly as I stroked my wet cock once, then twice, then I opened my eyes, and--

Butt crack! In front of me! Naked butt crack! NOT MINE! 180 degrees! NOW!

Who the hell was that?

My erection subsided remarkably quickly. Once I turned back around I quickly sized up some 18-year-old frontal nudity. Blondish hair. About my size in general and also in the penis department. Uncircumcised, like the religious guy in 10th grade gym. There was little question that my shower mate was sizing up me and my circumcised penis too. He spoke first.

"Hallo."

"Hi."

I had no doubt the guy with foreskin had seen me half hard. What else had he seen?

He turned back around and spent time with his crotch. What the fuck? Was he jacking off, right here?! Because of what he had seen? Me doing?

I twirled back around and pondered what might happen in the next 60 seconds, the next week, the next nine months. The thought made my penis get hard even though kept my hands far away, and this time my erection seemed to relish the pain from the jet of the shower.

What, exactly, was I going to do? My towel was back at the sink. How, exactly, was this going to end up?

 

[gaytxn09]

What a hot, unexpected turn of events. Let's hope the mystery man and Stu get a little more friendly. ;-)

 

[DonQuixote]

sfcfml,
A very nice chapter. Not fast, just a slow, steady day 2 in the life of a new RA.

A nice talk with the sexy senior, who definitely is holding his attention.

A nice self-examination - testicular , anal, penile -- and WHOA, who the Fuck is that, and WHAT is he doing - No SHIT!

Can I go back to school? NOW?! Pretty Please?

Thanks for all your time and effort in the crafting of this story for us!

 

[pe_gay89]

Wow. Wish we had communal showers...

 

[GrayFox]

Just when I was heating up.............

 

[Endlessnight500]

Oh hot! I cant wait to see what happens next!

 

[sfcfml]

Part XII

Turns out my shower mate had not been masturbating but rather had been making his uncircumcised self squeaky clean.

"Are you the, ah, how you say, Resident Advisor?"

"Yes. Who're you?"

"Rudolf. Didn't you know I was coming?"

"No."

Rudolf explained that the Residence Life staff was supposed to tell me that he'd be arriving tonight from Germany. Rudolf had not submitted a photo with his bio so he had slipped my mind, but there in the shower I was recalling that he was from Germany and was going to be on the college swim team.

For the first time I touched another man in the shower. His hand, anyway.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Stuart. Call me Stu."

"Stu. OK. Nice to meet you."

We got back to the business at hand. Sort of.

"Well, this is bizarre."

"Bizarre?"

Rudolf seemed not to understand. "Weird. Odd. Meeting you like this."

"It is fine. Do not worry."

Rudolf spread his buttcheeks and let the spray wash out the soap. When he turned back around, I scanned his butt and pondered what it would look like in a speedo. Then I retrieved my towel at the sink and waited for Rudolf. He appeared about a minute later, in the mirror over my shoulder, dripping wet. Because his towel was over his face, I could soak in his light complexion, nicely defined hairless chest, and just a hint of hair leading from his belly button to his crotch. His penis, though "uncut," was about my size. When the towel moved to his chest, I saw that the swimmer's eyes were blue -- a very light blue -- and his hair dark blond and curly when half-dry.

"What team are you on, Stu?"

"What do you mean?"

"Aren't you an athlete? This is where we athletes live, ya? Yes?"

"Yes. But no, I'm not."

Because of my answer, Rudolf had license to let his eyes wander. "You look like an athlete. You look good."

I wasn't sure a guy had ever said that to me before.

"I stay in shape. Exercise. You know, run, do weights." Rudolf didn't seem to understand the term 'do weights," so I did a bicep curl and he smiled.

"You swim?"

"Sometimes, but never on a team."

"You want to go with me? They gave me, how you say, the key to the pool, because I get here so early, but said I need to go with someone with me. For, how you say, libel reasons?"

"Liability, I suppose. The lawyers made them do it."

"Tomorrow morning? We go early. Seven?"

RA training was at 9, so 7 would work. Even though it was early and might mean skipping breakfast, but I wanted to see more of Rudolf.

"One problem. I don't have a swimsuit with me I don't think."

Rudolf had license to scan me again. "You are about my size, Stu. I have several. I bring you one."

* * *

Rudolf had given me more than my share of jackoff material, and I was going at a pretty good clip when the phone rang. Fuck.

"Stu, hey, it's Kirk."

I got up on an elbow and told Kirk I was sorry.

"For what?"

"For not staying in touch." I put the phone under my chin and resumed jacking, realizing Rudolf and Kirk both had blue eyes.

"Knock it off Stu. How're things?"

I stopped masturbating to explain how I had been preparing to be an RA on a floor of just student athletes and how Kirk was preparing for the harvest. I started jacking again when Kirk said he expected to return to school in the winter semester.

"It'll be good to have you back in the neighborhood."

"I suppose you'll have a babe by then."

"Maybe." I gazed at my penis and imagined Rebecca's hand on it.

"Really?"

"Could be."

Then her mouth.

"You OK, Stu?"

"Ssh-- Sure."

I thought I better stop masturbating as I told him about all Rebecca -- pretty much everything but the handjob.

"Whoa, older chick. Watch out! "I'm happy for you, Stu."

Then Kirk said he had some news too. "Stu, I'm back with Jessica." Jessica was his former girlfriend, and mine too actually. I had dated her in high school before Kirk did. It was with Jessica that I had creamed my shorts, and I was pretty sure Kirk had done more than that with her.

The thought of Kirk being back with Jessica made me limp.

"Well, Kirk, that's, ah, great."

"You sure?"

"Sure. Why wouldn't it be? Can't say I'm shocked, since you're back in the hometown and all."

"I'm at her place now, actually."

"Cool. That's what, a 10-minute drive from the farm?"

"Well, see, that's the other thing. She's back at college, and in an apartment, and, ah--"

"So you're back around in my neck of the woods?"

"Well, no, see, Stu, here's the thing. She's transferring." Kirk told me where, and I knew Iowa well enough to know it was a couple hours' drive from our hometown and probably three from my college.

"Wow. That's a long drive home. Be careful tonight. It's getting late."

"Stu." There was a beat or two of silence. "I'm not going home tonight."

Silence was followed by perhaps two more minutes of distant banter. I tried not to sound disappointed, but it was nearly impossible. Masturbation was out of the question. I couldn't sleep. Was Kirk fucking Jessica? At that very moment?

I was jealous. Not of Kirk, but of Jessica. Fuck. Who was I, anyway?

* * *

At 7:02, there was a soft knock on my door. I was dazed and confused after a restless night.

"Hi. Hey. Rudolf. Good morning."

Rudolf scanned me and got hung up on the sight of my soft morning wood in my boxers.

"Sorry. Gotta pee."

When I returned, Rudolf was sitting on my bed in a white long-sleeve t-shirt and gym shorts and had laid out a blue speedo for me.

"I have mine on already." Rudolf pulled down the waistband of his shorts to prove it. His was maroon; mine was to be blue. "Put it on here, Stu?"

The speedo was much smaller than I had imagined and had a European waist size I could not decipher.

"I'm not sure it'll work."

"Sure it will. You try."

I slid down and stepped out of my boxers and bent over more than I needed to as I deposited the shorts in an otherwise empty laundry basket. When I turned back around, Rudolf tossed the speedo at my crotch and I bent at the knees to retrieve the German's skimpy suit.

It felt tight in all the wrong places. I had worn briefs through high school but had quickly switched to boxers at college and had grown to love the way they let my penis and balls feel free. As Rudolf watched my every move, I adjusted myself so my penis pointed down toward my left thigh.

"You sure?"

"Look ..."

Rudolf stood and slipped his shorts to his knees, revealing speedos even smaller than what I was wearing. He looked fine. And I mean fine.

I grabbed a towel and then off we went, on Rudolf's assurance he had everything else I would need.

Rudolf said he had two keys -- one to the locker room that he was told only student athletes get to use, the other to the pool. We accessed the locker room with little difficulty and walked by an equipment room and training table before choosing a spot at the end near a whirlpool. Rudolf went to confirm that the other key opened the door leading from the showers to the pool and then stripped off all but the speedo, tossed goggles at me, and apologized that he didn't have an extra swim cap. I did as he did, and off we went.

The German owned the place. Rudolf stood at the head of a lane, prepared himself with a full-body shake, and dove in with barely a splash. His back muscles seemed at home in the blue water as he neared the completion of his first lap, tucked his head into his torso, and twirled himself around to begin the second. After Lap No. 2, he urged me to get in. I did, but feet first, and my penis let me know it would've been happier back in the warm confines of the dorms.

From the lane next to Rudolf's I watched the German do a variety of strokes. I liked his crawl the best because his body was elongated and his penis seemed to point straight down despite the confines of spandex.

After Rudolf had completed probably 20 laps and I probably five, he pulled himself onto the ledge and I watched him grin with satisfaction as water dripped down his torso and toward his abdomen that rose fell with each athletic breath. The German was completely uninhibited about having his tight little crotch right in front of me.

"Stu, you look good."

"Oh, c'mon. You're the stud." And he was.

After a three-minute break, Rudolf was back at it. I pulled myself onto the ledge and gazed down to see how I looked in the skimpy shorts. Decent. Yum.

It was about ten minutes later when it happened. A cramp. In my lower right leg. Fuck it hurt! Rudolf explained it probably was from not drinking enough water, and when he saw I was really in pain and had no idea what to do, he said to follow him.

Rudolf led me back into the locker room and asked if I felt I could make it to the training table we had passed at the entrance. I said I thought I could, even though I wasn't sure. Once there, I laid on the table eager to have Rudolf do whatever needed to be done to stop the pain. It hurt bad, and sex was the farthest thing from my mind. I told him that now my whole right leg hurt.

Rudolf stood at my right side and began kneading my lower leg. The pain there was starting to subside, but the cramp was intensifying higher up. I showed him where and then laid back and closed my eyes as the German swimmer used both hands and especially his thumbs to massage the cramp out of my hamstring. With the pain gone, I realized I had been shivering from being cold. Rudolf wanted to know if I wanted to keep swimming, and when I said yes, he said he better do the same thing to the left to make sure I was "evened out."

With the pain gone, my fixation turned to Rudolf's physique as he crossed to the other side and got to work on the left. This time, I got up on my elbows and watched him work. My penis started out pointing toward my left thigh, but as I felt and watched Rudolf's hands get closer and closer to my package, the organ strained to take a position against my belly. But it couldn't. Not in the tight speedo. Not without some help.

So Rudolf helped. Without asking. Neither of us said a word.

With my penis out of the way, Rudolf got to work on my inner left groin. Within seconds the head of my penis was straining at the waistband of the skimpy suit. I steadied myself by gripping the edge of the training table with my left hand. Seconds later, I felt the pouch of Rudolf's speedo against my knuckles.

A year and a half earlier, I had moved my hand after a second or two after Kirk had done the same thing in the high school lunchroom. This time, I turned my hand so I could cup Rudolf's package if his body language let me know he wanted me to.

He wanted me to.

I pressed my pinkie and thumb into the sides of his scrotum and could feel his erect penis in the center of my hand. He responded by pressing the sides of the upper half of my erection through the speedo. Shivers gave way to warmth as I freed my penis from the spandex so Rudolf could continue, but on naked skin. Only when the speedo reached my knees did the college swimmer turn to my shaft's lower half.

And then, he pulled his body from the side of the training table, bent at the waist, and looked at my dick and then my face. I laid back, closed my eyes, and tugged at Rudolf's blond curls.

What I remember most about the first couple seconds was how warm 98.6 degrees felt after my crotch had been in the pool. Rudolf bobbed up and down probably a dozen times before biting lightly at the bottom of my shaft. Only then did I open my eyes. I could not believe what I was seeing -- a mouth, taking me in, pretty much all 5.5 inches of it.

Then I realized, it can be good to be on the low side of average. Very good, indeed.

With each thrust I could feel Rudolf's breath from his nose against the curls of my pubic hair. He checked out my balls but abandoned them when he realized they were retracted against my body and not out to play. When he came up for breath, I saw that my glistening organ was as hard as it had ever been. Then back down he went, but this time with his tongue -- first at the base, then midway, then to where foreskin would have been, then the head. He took a strand of precum on his tongue before once again enveloping my entire hardon with his mouth.

My groans mixed with the sounds of Rudolf gasping through his nose. He couldn't talk but I could, and given the abandoned masturbation session from the previous night I knew the load was going to be big. So I put myself in Rudolf's shoes, to the best of my ability.

"Rudolf, I'm-- Ah, I'm about ready."

He didn't move.

"It's goin' to, ah--"

The bite at the bottom of my shaft was harder this time.

"There's going to be a lot of--"

My penis felt married to the back of the German swimmer's throat.

"Cuuuuuuuuuuuummmmmmmmmm!"

Semen seemed to come from my thighs. Rudolf swallowed a fair amount, but it just wouldn't stop. When I opened my eyes to see if he was all right, I had a second and even more intense round of orgasm inspired by the sight of semen mixed with spit dripping from Rudolf's mouth onto my pubes. He sucked at my dick as if it were a straw the size of a small banana, seemingly wanting to get the last drop.

When I could come no more, I laid back and put my hands behind my head and laughed. Rudolf's smiling face appeared above mine. I laughed even more when a drop of my cum dripped from his cheek to my lower lip. He responded by rubbing his cheek into my mouth.

I had tasted myself before, of course. But never had I tasted sex. Not this flavor, anyway. It was funny, particularly after being in the pool. It was fun, particularly in the student-athlete lockerroom. I wanted more. And, in the months to come, I would get it.

But not with Kirk. Not yet.

 

[pe_gay89]

Very good! I like this new guy.

 

[harry113]

Oooo Yes!! Rudolph .... Great !!
Please continue
Harry