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Best-Friend Fantasy Comes True
- Thread starter sfcfml
- Start date
sfcfml,
A great chapter. The Europeans seem to be so much less inhibited than we are.
From Cannes, and the Spanish Riviera with nude beaches, to Amsterdam and legal gay marriages.
I like the description, demeanor, and decisiveness of this Deutsch Darling of Aryan allegiance.
He knows how to take care of your musculature aches and pains and charley horses from swimmng, and all those Other Aches and Pains and Needs and Desires OH So Nicely.
Can I come over and play?
You are doing a great job with this story, sfcfml.
I'm enjoying it immensely.
Guys, If you haven't yet, take a moment to RATE This Thread at the top of the page -- let others know what you think of it. Let's give SFCFML the "rank" he deserves and display it proudly.
A great chapter. The Europeans seem to be so much less inhibited than we are.
From Cannes, and the Spanish Riviera with nude beaches, to Amsterdam and legal gay marriages.
I like the description, demeanor, and decisiveness of this Deutsch Darling of Aryan allegiance.
He knows how to take care of your musculature aches and pains and charley horses from swimmng, and all those Other Aches and Pains and Needs and Desires OH So Nicely.
Can I come over and play?
You are doing a great job with this story, sfcfml.
I'm enjoying it immensely.
Guys, If you haven't yet, take a moment to RATE This Thread at the top of the page -- let others know what you think of it. Let's give SFCFML the "rank" he deserves and display it proudly.
Endlessnight500
On the Prowl
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OMG this is SO HOT!
sfcfml
On the Prowl
Thanks, everybody, for the great comments/feedback. Keeps me going! This is going to be a sometimes slow adventure over the next few months, so thanks for reading and thanks in advance for your patience. Don't worry: Stu and Kirk will be buddies in a very special way. But first, Stu has some other exploring to do. 
sfcfml
On the Prowl
Part XIII
Rudolf and his wet mouth whetted my appetite for more man-on-man oral sex. But was it better to give than receive? That remained to be seen.
"That was fun. Ya, Stuart? Yes."
"Whoa, ya. It was good. Better than good. Ya. Yes. Wow."
"You ever do this before?"
"No."
"Never?" Rudolf was surprised.
"No."
"Not with a girl?"
"Nope."
"Want to try?"
"With a girl?"
"With me?"
"We just did."
"No, other way around."
By this time, I had climbed off the trainer's table and was using my speedo to dab at the globs of my semen and Rudolf's spit that dotted my pubes. Well, Rudolf's speedo, but you know ...
"I-- I don't think so, Rudolf. I'm sorry, man. I mean, I'm, um, not gay."
"What, you think I'm a homosexual, gay?"
"Aren't you?"
Rudolf's eyes got wide. "No, no no! I have girlfriends ..."
"But we-- You--"
"I do this before, with my friends. Many times. It's fun. Ya? Yes?"
"I guess."
"We are good at it. Men, I mean. So you have never done it with your friends?"
"Never have."
"You want to." Rudolf's remark was more of an answer than a question. His light blue eyes looked delicious. Like Kirk's.
"Maybe."
"You let me know when we're friends. When it is time."
As Rudolf and I got cleaned up, he acted as if barely anything had happened. He seemed more interested in breakfast than in replaying our morning's events and wondered where the dining hall was. He followed me there and I cringed as the young man who 20 minutes earlier had had my semen dripping from my mouth pulled up a chair next to the 22-year-old who basically was my girlfriend. I was more bewildered than worried as my eyes shifted between Rebecca's tight shirt and Rudolf mouth.
"Do you go by Rudy?" I found that to be a curious question from a woman who detested the name Becky.
"Rudy?"
"Short for Rudolf."
"N-no. Never heard that before."
"But you're an athlete."
"Ya. Swimmer."
Rebecca let her eyes wander from Rudolf's face to his crotch.
"Really. Cool."
"Yes. Stuart went with me this morning. Swimming."
"Really?" Rebecca looked at me like she had never met me before. "Stu, I didn't know you swam."
"Sure. Doesn't everybody in Iowa?"
"I didn't know you even brought a suit."
"I didn't."
"What, did you go nak--"
Rudolf cut off my chesty friend to explain that he had several suits and one of them fit me just fine. Rebecca seemed intrigued by the idea.
Then Rudolf went on his way and I sat next to Rebecca for pretty much the whole day of RA training, trying not to think about what I had done and baffled by the idea that Rudolf didn't think of himself as gay. It was Thursday, our busiest day. I had to focus. A resident or two would be arriving early on Friday. Some would be arriving Saturday. The bulk would come on Sunday.
Eventually, my bewilderment gave way to picking up on sexual vibes from Rebecca. By day's end, I was horny has hell. Another walk followed dinner. We had rum and Cokes. We shared more about ourselves. We had more rum and Cokes. Rebecca mentioned she'd be interning one morning a week with a female physician at a family-practice clinic downtown. We had more rum and Cokes, and then one thing led to another and before I knew it Rebecca was sliding my t-shirt over my taut frame. I took off hers but left her bra on and relished the feel of her 22-year-old breasts in my hands, though numbed by rum. Her boobs were bigger than former girlfriend Jessica's, by quite a bit actually, but that didn't matter. I did not have a world in the care, or a care in the world!
Rebecca undid her bra and I explored her bare breasts for the first time. Mmm, they were soft and delicious in the mouth of a 19-year-old eager for sex. My 22-year-old lover moaned with pleasure as I bathed her left tit and then her right. I stumbled and swayed as I led her to the bed and fumbled to undo her shorts as she did the same with me.
Eventually, somehow, we ended up naked. How exactly, I cannot remember. I do remember being really hard as I slid my dick between her tits, but by the time I was on my back, preparing for not only the second blowjob of my life but the second of the day, I was limp. Rebecca said not to worry, that it was her fault for getting me drunk. She moved my hand to her vagina and guided one, then two, then three of my fingers inside. Eventually, she gave up and finished herself off as I passed out with my head on her naked torso. I was to remain a virgin for yet another night.
* * *
The next morning I slipped out of Rebecca's dorm, went to mine for a shower, and paged through the stack of biographies about the young men who within hours would be living on my floor. My lack of ability to perform was nagging at me and I was hung over too, so looking at baseball shortstop Jay's photo brightened my spirits because I knew he could inspire me to get hard. The jersey, the jeans, the short brown hair and perfect smile. Mmmmm. The bulge, yes, right there! Fantastic! Soon I'd see it. Most likely in the shower, where I had just been. Mmmmm.
But I just didn't feel like jacking off. I met up with Rebecca at breakfast and within an hour I was horny again -- for her, not Jay. I felt even straigher after lunch, and when RA training ended at 4 I realized I had just enough time to do some family planning. I was back in the campus dining hall by five to 5 with a package of condoms in my front pocket.
The night began pretty much as the previous, except there was no booze and we went back to my room where we left the lights on. I had no hint of whiskey dick as I slid my erection between Rebecca's tits, and I got even harder as she placed the reservoir tip over my dick's glistening head. It was among the most arousing experiences of my life, having a woman three years my senior preparing me for sexual intercourse for the very first time. I almost blew my load as she unfurled the rubber so it covered the length of my 5.5 inches, but I got control of myself and watched my sealed-up pecker swing as I mounted a female for the first time ever.
Rebecca helped my penis find the right spot. It took a little getting used to, but after four or five thrusts, it felt so right, and I felt like a pro. In and out I went. Then side to side. I experimented with speed -- first slow, then fast, then slow. Really slow. Rebecca moaned loudly but I didn't care who might have heard. The feel, and the sight of my latex-wrapped erection sliding in and out of her hairy hole under the glare of the overhead light, was one I will never forgot.
And then, I blasted load after load of cum into the condom that was inside of the college senior. She convulsed with each spurt and spasmed with pleasure as the last of my seed made its way from my loins into hers. We stayed frozen with my dick inside her for perhaps 45 seconds as I relished the thought that I ACTUALLY had had sex with a girl and was a virgin no more! It was fantastic! I was fantastic! I did it!
Straight as an arrow, I was!
Post-orgasmic bliss, uninhibited by the evils of rum, permitted me to recall the instruction that had seemed so obscure and irrelevant during 10th grade sex ed: hold onto the condom when you're done, the gym teacher said, to prevent spillage. I had chucked at the time, but it seemed serious business at present. Rebecca started to cry. She said not to worry because they were tears of joy. I tossed the spent condom on top of my boxers and placed my cheek between Rebecca's sweaty, warm breasts. They were hot. Fuck, she was hot.
We fell asleep that way as I dreamed of the exciting life of sex -- straight sex -- that was ahead for me. And maybe Rebecca.
* * *
I woke Rebecca around 2, not on purpose but to get us under the covers. When I did, she noticed I was three-quarters hard, reached for my tool, and we were off for Round 2, her on top this time. She bounced on me with surprisingly savage aggression. It was fast and hard. Round 3 came around 9, with barely an hour before the new residents were to arrive at 10. We stood this time and grinded together slowly. At 9:20, I saw my lover out the dorm's front door and sat on the stairs to relish the thought that in the last 12 hours I had lost my virginity three times. I was going to need more condoms.
I had risen to head in for a quick shower when a silver minivan stopped in front. A middle-aged guy in sunglasses looked at a sheet of paper, then at the dorm building's sign, and then at me. In the passenger seat was a guy in a baseball cap. That's all I could see.
Dad stepped out first and put the shades on top of his head. I heard the other door open and close and waited for the owner of the baseball cap to emerge. From where I was standing I could see the tailgate open and I could hear father and son discuss what should be included in the first load. Dad came toward me first carrying a box. His son, now capless, trailed behind with a suitcase in his right hand and a blue backpack over his left shoulder.
"Go ahead. Go first. It's your home, bud."
The smartly cropped brown hair, friendly brown eyes, and smile all were familiar, but the jersey had given way to a t-shirt and the 501s were replaced by tennis shorts that were on the verge of being out of style.
"This Johnson Hall"
"Yep."
A suitcase landed almost on my left foot.
"You live here?"
I tried to make sure my voice wasn't shaking. "I'm the RA, Stu."
"Oh, the RA. Hey ..."
The baseball shortstop's right had was smaller than I had imagined. Softer, too.
"Yeah, well, I'm--"
I knew who he was.
"I'm Jay. Jay Roberts."
Rudolf and his wet mouth whetted my appetite for more man-on-man oral sex. But was it better to give than receive? That remained to be seen.
"That was fun. Ya, Stuart? Yes."
"Whoa, ya. It was good. Better than good. Ya. Yes. Wow."
"You ever do this before?"
"No."
"Never?" Rudolf was surprised.
"No."
"Not with a girl?"
"Nope."
"Want to try?"
"With a girl?"
"With me?"
"We just did."
"No, other way around."
By this time, I had climbed off the trainer's table and was using my speedo to dab at the globs of my semen and Rudolf's spit that dotted my pubes. Well, Rudolf's speedo, but you know ...
"I-- I don't think so, Rudolf. I'm sorry, man. I mean, I'm, um, not gay."
"What, you think I'm a homosexual, gay?"
"Aren't you?"
Rudolf's eyes got wide. "No, no no! I have girlfriends ..."
"But we-- You--"
"I do this before, with my friends. Many times. It's fun. Ya? Yes?"
"I guess."
"We are good at it. Men, I mean. So you have never done it with your friends?"
"Never have."
"You want to." Rudolf's remark was more of an answer than a question. His light blue eyes looked delicious. Like Kirk's.
"Maybe."
"You let me know when we're friends. When it is time."
As Rudolf and I got cleaned up, he acted as if barely anything had happened. He seemed more interested in breakfast than in replaying our morning's events and wondered where the dining hall was. He followed me there and I cringed as the young man who 20 minutes earlier had had my semen dripping from my mouth pulled up a chair next to the 22-year-old who basically was my girlfriend. I was more bewildered than worried as my eyes shifted between Rebecca's tight shirt and Rudolf mouth.
"Do you go by Rudy?" I found that to be a curious question from a woman who detested the name Becky.
"Rudy?"
"Short for Rudolf."
"N-no. Never heard that before."
"But you're an athlete."
"Ya. Swimmer."
Rebecca let her eyes wander from Rudolf's face to his crotch.
"Really. Cool."
"Yes. Stuart went with me this morning. Swimming."
"Really?" Rebecca looked at me like she had never met me before. "Stu, I didn't know you swam."
"Sure. Doesn't everybody in Iowa?"
"I didn't know you even brought a suit."
"I didn't."
"What, did you go nak--"
Rudolf cut off my chesty friend to explain that he had several suits and one of them fit me just fine. Rebecca seemed intrigued by the idea.
Then Rudolf went on his way and I sat next to Rebecca for pretty much the whole day of RA training, trying not to think about what I had done and baffled by the idea that Rudolf didn't think of himself as gay. It was Thursday, our busiest day. I had to focus. A resident or two would be arriving early on Friday. Some would be arriving Saturday. The bulk would come on Sunday.
Eventually, my bewilderment gave way to picking up on sexual vibes from Rebecca. By day's end, I was horny has hell. Another walk followed dinner. We had rum and Cokes. We shared more about ourselves. We had more rum and Cokes. Rebecca mentioned she'd be interning one morning a week with a female physician at a family-practice clinic downtown. We had more rum and Cokes, and then one thing led to another and before I knew it Rebecca was sliding my t-shirt over my taut frame. I took off hers but left her bra on and relished the feel of her 22-year-old breasts in my hands, though numbed by rum. Her boobs were bigger than former girlfriend Jessica's, by quite a bit actually, but that didn't matter. I did not have a world in the care, or a care in the world!
Rebecca undid her bra and I explored her bare breasts for the first time. Mmm, they were soft and delicious in the mouth of a 19-year-old eager for sex. My 22-year-old lover moaned with pleasure as I bathed her left tit and then her right. I stumbled and swayed as I led her to the bed and fumbled to undo her shorts as she did the same with me.
Eventually, somehow, we ended up naked. How exactly, I cannot remember. I do remember being really hard as I slid my dick between her tits, but by the time I was on my back, preparing for not only the second blowjob of my life but the second of the day, I was limp. Rebecca said not to worry, that it was her fault for getting me drunk. She moved my hand to her vagina and guided one, then two, then three of my fingers inside. Eventually, she gave up and finished herself off as I passed out with my head on her naked torso. I was to remain a virgin for yet another night.
* * *
The next morning I slipped out of Rebecca's dorm, went to mine for a shower, and paged through the stack of biographies about the young men who within hours would be living on my floor. My lack of ability to perform was nagging at me and I was hung over too, so looking at baseball shortstop Jay's photo brightened my spirits because I knew he could inspire me to get hard. The jersey, the jeans, the short brown hair and perfect smile. Mmmmm. The bulge, yes, right there! Fantastic! Soon I'd see it. Most likely in the shower, where I had just been. Mmmmm.
But I just didn't feel like jacking off. I met up with Rebecca at breakfast and within an hour I was horny again -- for her, not Jay. I felt even straigher after lunch, and when RA training ended at 4 I realized I had just enough time to do some family planning. I was back in the campus dining hall by five to 5 with a package of condoms in my front pocket.
The night began pretty much as the previous, except there was no booze and we went back to my room where we left the lights on. I had no hint of whiskey dick as I slid my erection between Rebecca's tits, and I got even harder as she placed the reservoir tip over my dick's glistening head. It was among the most arousing experiences of my life, having a woman three years my senior preparing me for sexual intercourse for the very first time. I almost blew my load as she unfurled the rubber so it covered the length of my 5.5 inches, but I got control of myself and watched my sealed-up pecker swing as I mounted a female for the first time ever.
Rebecca helped my penis find the right spot. It took a little getting used to, but after four or five thrusts, it felt so right, and I felt like a pro. In and out I went. Then side to side. I experimented with speed -- first slow, then fast, then slow. Really slow. Rebecca moaned loudly but I didn't care who might have heard. The feel, and the sight of my latex-wrapped erection sliding in and out of her hairy hole under the glare of the overhead light, was one I will never forgot.
And then, I blasted load after load of cum into the condom that was inside of the college senior. She convulsed with each spurt and spasmed with pleasure as the last of my seed made its way from my loins into hers. We stayed frozen with my dick inside her for perhaps 45 seconds as I relished the thought that I ACTUALLY had had sex with a girl and was a virgin no more! It was fantastic! I was fantastic! I did it!
Straight as an arrow, I was!
Post-orgasmic bliss, uninhibited by the evils of rum, permitted me to recall the instruction that had seemed so obscure and irrelevant during 10th grade sex ed: hold onto the condom when you're done, the gym teacher said, to prevent spillage. I had chucked at the time, but it seemed serious business at present. Rebecca started to cry. She said not to worry because they were tears of joy. I tossed the spent condom on top of my boxers and placed my cheek between Rebecca's sweaty, warm breasts. They were hot. Fuck, she was hot.
We fell asleep that way as I dreamed of the exciting life of sex -- straight sex -- that was ahead for me. And maybe Rebecca.
* * *
I woke Rebecca around 2, not on purpose but to get us under the covers. When I did, she noticed I was three-quarters hard, reached for my tool, and we were off for Round 2, her on top this time. She bounced on me with surprisingly savage aggression. It was fast and hard. Round 3 came around 9, with barely an hour before the new residents were to arrive at 10. We stood this time and grinded together slowly. At 9:20, I saw my lover out the dorm's front door and sat on the stairs to relish the thought that in the last 12 hours I had lost my virginity three times. I was going to need more condoms.
I had risen to head in for a quick shower when a silver minivan stopped in front. A middle-aged guy in sunglasses looked at a sheet of paper, then at the dorm building's sign, and then at me. In the passenger seat was a guy in a baseball cap. That's all I could see.
Dad stepped out first and put the shades on top of his head. I heard the other door open and close and waited for the owner of the baseball cap to emerge. From where I was standing I could see the tailgate open and I could hear father and son discuss what should be included in the first load. Dad came toward me first carrying a box. His son, now capless, trailed behind with a suitcase in his right hand and a blue backpack over his left shoulder.
"Go ahead. Go first. It's your home, bud."
The smartly cropped brown hair, friendly brown eyes, and smile all were familiar, but the jersey had given way to a t-shirt and the 501s were replaced by tennis shorts that were on the verge of being out of style.
"This Johnson Hall"
"Yep."
A suitcase landed almost on my left foot.
"You live here?"
I tried to make sure my voice wasn't shaking. "I'm the RA, Stu."
"Oh, the RA. Hey ..."
The baseball shortstop's right had was smaller than I had imagined. Softer, too.
"Yeah, well, I'm--"
I knew who he was.
"I'm Jay. Jay Roberts."
Dear SFCFML,
Heaven, He's in Heaven, and he know's he's going to love it this year!
What's not to love - a hot, straight?! German exchange student sucks up his heavy creme load in and erotic exchange, and is OKey DOKEY when he's not quite ready to reciprocate, and the Super Hot for his Body Senior Lady has just guided him to three, count them, THREE, orgasms of cosmic delight as they followed the Lionel Ritchie LA Olympics song "All night long" All night, All night Long.
And now, just to put a little potential icing on top of the glans, I mean, Cake, is the long anticipated studly, Jay Roberts, and his hands are smaller and softer than or dear boy originally anticipated. What could that mean? That he's not quite as macho macho man as he might have envisioned him? That he might have a "softer" side? Could this be the start of something else wonderful???
Stay tuned as we all wait for further details!
A HOT chapter all in all. Thanks for crafting it so well for us.
Heaven, He's in Heaven, and he know's he's going to love it this year!
What's not to love - a hot, straight?! German exchange student sucks up his heavy creme load in and erotic exchange, and is OKey DOKEY when he's not quite ready to reciprocate, and the Super Hot for his Body Senior Lady has just guided him to three, count them, THREE, orgasms of cosmic delight as they followed the Lionel Ritchie LA Olympics song "All night long" All night, All night Long.
And now, just to put a little potential icing on top of the glans, I mean, Cake, is the long anticipated studly, Jay Roberts, and his hands are smaller and softer than or dear boy originally anticipated. What could that mean? That he's not quite as macho macho man as he might have envisioned him? That he might have a "softer" side? Could this be the start of something else wonderful???
Stay tuned as we all wait for further details!
A HOT chapter all in all. Thanks for crafting it so well for us.
- Joined
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you're doing an excellent narrative here fellow, absolutely excellent.
i totally empathize with your personal situation and dare say there are more of us here at jub than many might think. my life partner and i have 33 yrs as of last november and while it may no longer be mad passionate exuberance, it is still a deep abiding love, honor and respect as it was 33 years ago.
you're doing a fine compassionate job of giving the single-sex aficianados an idea of how omni-sexuals fit in the scheme of life.
i totally empathize with your personal situation and dare say there are more of us here at jub than many might think. my life partner and i have 33 yrs as of last november and while it may no longer be mad passionate exuberance, it is still a deep abiding love, honor and respect as it was 33 years ago.
you're doing a fine compassionate job of giving the single-sex aficianados an idea of how omni-sexuals fit in the scheme of life.
pe_gay89
Porn Star
Woohoo, now we can really get started! 
I wonder if Rudolf and Jay will ever become 'friends'? 
I wonder if Rudolf and Jay will ever become 'friends'? - Joined
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OK, let's do the shortstop now!
sfcfml
On the Prowl
Part IXV
I still had the taste of Rebecca's sweaty breasts in my mouth as I grasped the hand of the Freshmen ballplayer for maybe a half-second longer than was socially acceptable. I couldn't help but thinking about where that hand had been.
Jay's brown eyes were warm and inviting and perfectly positioned on his smooth face. He smiled broadly, mainly from nerves. The ballplayer's shoulders were surprisingly broad for a shortstop, I thought, and his torso fit snugly into a t-shirt advertising his high school team's regional championship. The shirt hung over a pair of tennis shorts that were on the verge of being out of style and failed to conceal the bulge on left side of the young man's crotch.
As I dropped his hand, I tried to cover my tracks.
"So, hey, Jay, ah, are you on the tennis team?"
"Baseball."
"Oh, I just saw the shorts and--"
"Oh, they're just old. From eighth grade, I think." Jay jiggled the trousers' waist. "They're a little tight."
He wasn't kidding.
Suddenly another hand was in mine.
"Hi. Bruce. Bruce Roberts."
"Hello, Mr. Roberts. I'm Stu, the RA, resident advisor."
Jay was a spitting image of Bruce, minus the salt-and-pepper hair of course.
"You're the guy who'll be keeping 'em under control, eh, Mr. RA?" Bruce gave my shoulder a playful punch.
"Well, sir--"
"Good luck, with these jocks. If this one gives you any trouble ..." Bruce tapped the back of his son's head. "... give me a call." Bruce winked, grinned, and proved that he, like his son, still had dimples.
I turned my attention back to Jay and hoped he couldn't tell my heart was pounding. Jay accepted my offer to show his dad and him where the athlete would be spending the next nine months. Jay knew there had been a late change in his roommate assignment, but he appeared to know little if anything about Ezekiel and must not have seen his photo. Either that, or the kid in the tennis shorts didn't seem to mind sleeping in the same room with a young man who appeared to prefer black leather and chains.
"Wonder if he goes by Zeke?"
"I wonder too, Jay."
Jay left his suitcase next to the far closet and sat on the bed closer to the window, reasoning that since got there first he could choose the bed first. I told him I reckoned he was right as the Freshmen bounced a half-dozen times on the skimpy, squeaky mattress. As I sat across from him on Zeke's bed, I wondered what he would look like in baseball pants.
As Bruce placed a box on one of the desks, Jay laid on his back to try out the bed. At first he had his arms at his sides and stared straight at the ceiling, but then he scooted toward the foot a few inches, put his hands behind his head, and revealed to anyone who wanted to know whether he had an innie or an outie.
Jay, for the record, had an innie.
"I guess this'll do." I could tell Jay was underwhelmed with the accommodations and the bed in particular. The Freshmen crossed his ankles to see if that made any difference. It did, in his shorts at least, and in mine. "It's closer to the window at least."
"Say, Stu, we've got a question." Reluctantly I rose to talk to Bruce.
"Sure, Mr. Roberts. Anything."
"First, it's Bruce. And second, well, this is sort of awkward, but ..." Bruce handed me a 9x12 envelope. "See, before coming to school Jay was supposed to get to the doctor, for a physical, for baseball, but let's just say the boy didn't get around to it."
The word "physical" resonated in my brain with a bang. I hadn't had one myself for a couple years, not since high school, and I meant to get one at home before coming to school but ran out of time. For me, a non-athlete student, an exam wasn't required. For Jay, who'd be pushing his body to keep up with the older players, one was. I thought back to Kirk's story about his exam from the perverted doctor, and the way I had prepared Minnesota hockey player Andy for his physical just last week. It seemed to be a developing theme.
"Anyway," Bruce continued, "I meant to ask at the front desk this morning, but I forgot, so if you know of any local doctors who could get the kid in on short notice, maybe, ah, could you help my forgetful son make sure he's fit and ready to play ball?"
Then I thought of Rebecca, who two nights ago had told me she'd be interning at a family-practice clinic downtown. I explained the situation to father and son and that I'd check with "my girlfriend" with regard to Jay's checkup. I didn't mention that she was a female doctor. Why ruin the surprise?
"That'll do. Jay, you have the insurance card, right?"
"Yep." Jay couldn't help but brush his penis a little as he patted the contents of his left front pocket.
"You'd think a little of me had rubbed off on him, since I'm a coach and all."
Jay rolled his eyes as stood from the bed.
"Stu, the physical exam form is in that envelope. Please give it to the doctor, and thanks in advance for helping to get this forgetful jock get checked out. I'll be forever grateful."
"Consider it done, Bruce."
* * *
Three of my orgasms in the last nine hours had come inside of Rebecca. The fourth was attributable to an 18-year-old Freshmen ballplayer who looked even more delicious in person but also vulnerable and a little irresponsible, and who now needed my help to get on the baseball team.
Then, finally, it was off for a shower. When I emerged in search of my towel, Jay was just zipping himself up while turning from the urinal. His undies, I could see, where white. I told him I'd stop by once he was settled to fill him in on Zeke, and when he asked why, I just said we should talk later.
I got dressed with five minutes to spare. From 10 a.m. onward, I was supposed to troll around with my "Resident Advisor" t-shirt on, ready to advise the residents.
Kent was the first to arrive, after Jay and Rudolf that is. He was somewhat of a curious young man from a small town near Sioux Falls. In his photo and now in person, Kent looked rather bookish and almost nerdy in his wire-rimmed glasses and conservative haircut, but according to his bio he was a standout soccer player who had been recruited across the Midwest. He was bigger than I had imagined -- perhaps 6-foot-2, and pretty buff. He was quiet and nervous, and Kent's mom let it slip that he had been up all night barfing at the thought of leaving home.
Been there, done that, I thought to myself.
Josh was next. A swimmer from the suburbs of Des Moines, the young man was lanky and lean with jet-black hair and a 5 o'clock shadow even at noon. I wondered whether it was true that swimmers shaved each other's bare bodies.
Then came Nick. A 5-foot-9 soccer player from a suburb of Kansas City, he wore his blond hair long in an early 80s sitcom sort of way and smiled each time he ended a sentence with a tad of a drawl.
Juan and Kevin came next. They were classmates from a school near mine, were baseball teammates, and would be roommates for good or for bad. In their photos and in person they looked about as different as two 18-year-olds from rural Iowa can look. Juan had been adopted from an orphanage in Mexico and stood a stocky but athletic 5-foot-6. Kevin had red hair, freckles and lean muscles and towered over Juan by a good seven inches.
A clump of guys came around 1. Nathan, baseball, Minnesotan, more lanky than built, still growing out of acne. Brett, soccer, hairy legs and sort of a unibrow thing going on. Robert, swimmer, the only African-American on the floor, from a prep school outside Des Moines. Peter, baseball, beard, looked 25 and like trouble. Brady, swimmer, tall, very light and very handsome in a boy-next-door, sure-I'll-mow-your-lawn sort of way.
And then came Terry. A six-foot swimmer, 170 I'd say, pleasingly proportioned, a perfect smile, and, as I soon discovered, a shy personality. Terry came from a Catholic school in a small Iowa city and he looked much better in person than he did on paper. The Freshmen's face was longer than it was wide in an authoritarian sort of way. He had a lean, clean, chiseled but pleasing choirboy look. Terry's features were fine and his dress conservative, but the baggy polo shirt could not hide his broad shoulders and he wore his shorts high enough for me to see that his legs were lean and muscled like a swimmer's should be.
"Hi Terry. Welcome."
"Hello. You're Stuart?"
Terry's hands were large, and very strong.
"Stu. Your RA. Good to have you."
"Pleased to meet you, Stuart." Terry could've beat the crap out of me, but to him I was an authority figure.
"Well, great to meet you. And Stu is fine. Ah, let me help you ..."
Outside I met his mom, a rather stern-looking woman with a hairdo from the '60s. She looked at me with suspicion as I lugged a load of Terry's stuff into Room 214. He was to room with Robert, another private-school product but from a non-religious school in the swanky part of Des Moines. And, of course, Robert was black. Actually, Robert was half-black, but in Iowa that meant he was black. Robert was in the room as Terry and I entered, and it immediately became clear that although the Residence Life staff had sent me photos of the residents ahead of time, the same had not been done for the dorm residents.
There was no mistaking that Terry had not been around many if any black people. Now, here he was living with one. Robert's bio had indicated his dad was a cardiologist; never mind he probably was from the richest family of all the guys. My heart sank as I saw Terry hesitate to touch Robert outstretched hand, and the white swimmer made sure the handshake was over well before mom entered the room. Then in came mom, for about three seconds. Within 30 seconds mother and son were whispering in the hallway.
Suddenly I wanted -- needed -- Rebecca. Not for great sex but for the experienced RA's advice on how to deal with a situation such as this.
* * *
Registration for the day closed at 4. Dinner was at 5. For a while I joined Jay on the Quad throwing a Frisbee with Nathan, Peter, and Robert. Juan and Kevin, the boys from the same small town, were playing Hacky Sack by themselves. I wished Terry had been throwing Frisbee with Robert and the others, but he was with Brady instead and seemed to be hitting it off in the lounge. Minnesota baseball player Nathan seemed to be befriending German swimmer Rudolf -- a good sign, I thought.
Peter, it seemed, was bruisin' for a confrontation. He asked me if I was in charge. I suggested I was and he said I looked 16. I said I was 19 and he said he was 20 and walked away.
The influx of young men packing testosterone was making my horny, but oddly it was Rebecca who I wanted to screw. So I called her for three reasons: to get some guidance on the Terry-and-Robert situation, and also the Peter situation, and also my own Peter situation. She gave me some guidance on the first two issues but then suggested we stay in our own dorms and "set a good example" with regard to the third.
Fuck. My "girlfriend" seemed all business. Classes were beginning on Tuesday, and she seemed strangely stressed. Rebecca explained that Dr. Fitzgerald at the clinic downtown had called to make sure she was coming in on Monday. Rebecca confirmed she was and also asked Dr. Fitzgerald whether she could help Jay get a sports physical ASAP. Dr. Fitzgerald said she was leaving town Wednesday morning and had a busy Tuesday scheduled, but that she could squeeze Jay in at the very end of the day on Monday. I told Rebecca that I'd pass it along and make good on my promise to get him there on time.
After dinner I was watching a Cubs game with Juan and Kevin when Jay came into the lounge and plopped his butt next to mine on the industrial-strength couch. He smelled like an Iowa summer, sunny and sweaty. The ballplayer was wearing loose-fitting, white mesh shorts and a muscle shirt, both of which were pretty dirty from a couple hours of Frisbee playing. His legs were grimy too, and his hair in need of a wash. As Jay got up to go back outside, I told him I'd arranged "an appointment" for him Monday. He stared at me blankly for a second but then said that'd work, and off he went.
The night game at Wrigley ended around 10 and I returned to my room to grab a towel so I could wash off some of my own grime. As I hung my towel on a peg, there was little question whose v-shaped back and slightly hairy bare butt were at the far end. It was Jay, naked, except for the towel at his head. I scurried into the shower room with an abrupt "Jay!" hoping he'd turn around, but he just responded with an "almost done" and bent over slightly to dab at his shins. My heart raced as I saw a glimpse of his testicles hanging in front of a surprisingly hairy ass. My heart sank as Jay wrapped the towel around his waist before turning to face me.
"Thought that was you, Stu."
I turned on the spray and let it hit my back as I gave him the time of his late-afternoon medical appointment with Dr. Fitzgerald and that I'd be happy to drive him downtown.
"Works for me. You know the guy?"
"Who?"
"The doctor?"
I said I didn't, and I couldn't bare to ruin the surprise that his examiner was not going to be a guy.
* * *
The thought of Jay at a woman doctor just thoroughly turned me on. Why? I retrieved my glossy copy of "Naughty Nurses" and reasoned that the scenarios turned others on too or there wouldn't be such a thing. As I perused the pages that featured glossy images of busty nurses examining and then getting fucked by a hunky businessman, I wondered what exactly would lie ahead for Jay when he was under the control of his female examiner.
I was naked on my bed, trying to suck myself to be honest, when there was a soft knock on the door. When I asked who it was, I heard a German accent.
At that point, with Rebecca out of commission, something came over me and I found no reason to get dressed as I cracked the door and told Rudolf it was time for him to be my friend.
It was close to 10:30 and 90 degrees in the non-air conditioned dorm, but Rudolf was still wearing jeans as well as a soccer jersey as he sat on my bed. I was entirely nude and about half hard as I positioned myself next to the German swimmer, clueless on how to do any of this. Rudolf asked whether I was sure, and when I said that I was, he laid on my bed, unbuckled his jeans, pulled up his jersey, and presented his naked midsection for me to explore. I touched the bottom of his testicles first. They were smaller than Andy's, about my size. Rudolf brushed the side of my thigh and then lightly gripped my erect penis. I placed my thumb and fingers on either side of Rudolf's developing erection and folded his foreskin back from the head.
And then I bent over the swimmer and put a penis in my mouth for the very first time. It felt so soft on the outside and hard on the inside. I bobbed up and down a few times as Rudolf had done on me in the swimming pool locker room, and when I rose to take on a more comfortable position the athlete removed his jeans and European boxer-briefs and sat sideways on the bed. As the German guided my head into his crotch, he smelled musky and manly. I bent Rudolf's penis away from his belly and closed my eyes as I placed the head against my upper palate. The Freshmen moaned with appreciation and said I was doing well, and suggested I "put my mouth on the outside too."
I opened my eyes to get my bearings and examined what I was about to pleasure. Though uncut, Rudolf looked about like me when he was hard -- same size, shape, etc. That thought turned me on as I tongued at the midsection of his shaft and moved up toward the head. I kept my right hand on his erection as I pulled at his soccer jersey with my left.
"Let us try this."
Rudolf rose, took off his jersey, and laid horizontally on my bed. I soaked up his aroused nakedness for a second or two before I instinctively laid to his side and put his erection in my mouth from a better angle. Rudolf had his arms around me as I marveled at how much of the German's penis I could take in my mouth. As he gently bucked his hips, I could feel and smell his pubic hair against my nose. I tried to keep my teeth out of the way, but when I bit him by mistake, the tinge of pain seemed only to turn him on.
"Stu, I'm gonna--"
I was appreciative for the warning, though being a guy I could tell what was going to come and I had the know-how to make it explosive. I lifted my face from Rudolf's crotch and held the upper half of his penis tightly as I helped Rudolf blast two shots of semen between his swimmer's pecs.
"Oh, Stu--"
I jacked the German rapidly as he blasted at least ten more shots onto his belly and into his pubes. He was noticeably smaller than Andy, but the experience no less enjoyable -- and to be honest better given that Rudolf was much like me and that I had gotten to know him a little bit first. I leaned my head toward his mess and took in the nutty, musky scent of a European Freshmen's sweat and semen. He seemed beyond pleased and even proud of the puddles we had made as he dabbed at the globs of semen on his chest and then stroked his glistening penis very lightly.
I told Rudolf that he was better than good, that giving was as good as receiving, and that I was very glad we had become friends.
I still had the taste of Rebecca's sweaty breasts in my mouth as I grasped the hand of the Freshmen ballplayer for maybe a half-second longer than was socially acceptable. I couldn't help but thinking about where that hand had been.
Jay's brown eyes were warm and inviting and perfectly positioned on his smooth face. He smiled broadly, mainly from nerves. The ballplayer's shoulders were surprisingly broad for a shortstop, I thought, and his torso fit snugly into a t-shirt advertising his high school team's regional championship. The shirt hung over a pair of tennis shorts that were on the verge of being out of style and failed to conceal the bulge on left side of the young man's crotch.
As I dropped his hand, I tried to cover my tracks.
"So, hey, Jay, ah, are you on the tennis team?"
"Baseball."
"Oh, I just saw the shorts and--"
"Oh, they're just old. From eighth grade, I think." Jay jiggled the trousers' waist. "They're a little tight."
He wasn't kidding.
Suddenly another hand was in mine.
"Hi. Bruce. Bruce Roberts."
"Hello, Mr. Roberts. I'm Stu, the RA, resident advisor."
Jay was a spitting image of Bruce, minus the salt-and-pepper hair of course.
"You're the guy who'll be keeping 'em under control, eh, Mr. RA?" Bruce gave my shoulder a playful punch.
"Well, sir--"
"Good luck, with these jocks. If this one gives you any trouble ..." Bruce tapped the back of his son's head. "... give me a call." Bruce winked, grinned, and proved that he, like his son, still had dimples.
I turned my attention back to Jay and hoped he couldn't tell my heart was pounding. Jay accepted my offer to show his dad and him where the athlete would be spending the next nine months. Jay knew there had been a late change in his roommate assignment, but he appeared to know little if anything about Ezekiel and must not have seen his photo. Either that, or the kid in the tennis shorts didn't seem to mind sleeping in the same room with a young man who appeared to prefer black leather and chains.
"Wonder if he goes by Zeke?"
"I wonder too, Jay."
Jay left his suitcase next to the far closet and sat on the bed closer to the window, reasoning that since got there first he could choose the bed first. I told him I reckoned he was right as the Freshmen bounced a half-dozen times on the skimpy, squeaky mattress. As I sat across from him on Zeke's bed, I wondered what he would look like in baseball pants.
As Bruce placed a box on one of the desks, Jay laid on his back to try out the bed. At first he had his arms at his sides and stared straight at the ceiling, but then he scooted toward the foot a few inches, put his hands behind his head, and revealed to anyone who wanted to know whether he had an innie or an outie.
Jay, for the record, had an innie.
"I guess this'll do." I could tell Jay was underwhelmed with the accommodations and the bed in particular. The Freshmen crossed his ankles to see if that made any difference. It did, in his shorts at least, and in mine. "It's closer to the window at least."
"Say, Stu, we've got a question." Reluctantly I rose to talk to Bruce.
"Sure, Mr. Roberts. Anything."
"First, it's Bruce. And second, well, this is sort of awkward, but ..." Bruce handed me a 9x12 envelope. "See, before coming to school Jay was supposed to get to the doctor, for a physical, for baseball, but let's just say the boy didn't get around to it."
The word "physical" resonated in my brain with a bang. I hadn't had one myself for a couple years, not since high school, and I meant to get one at home before coming to school but ran out of time. For me, a non-athlete student, an exam wasn't required. For Jay, who'd be pushing his body to keep up with the older players, one was. I thought back to Kirk's story about his exam from the perverted doctor, and the way I had prepared Minnesota hockey player Andy for his physical just last week. It seemed to be a developing theme.
"Anyway," Bruce continued, "I meant to ask at the front desk this morning, but I forgot, so if you know of any local doctors who could get the kid in on short notice, maybe, ah, could you help my forgetful son make sure he's fit and ready to play ball?"
Then I thought of Rebecca, who two nights ago had told me she'd be interning at a family-practice clinic downtown. I explained the situation to father and son and that I'd check with "my girlfriend" with regard to Jay's checkup. I didn't mention that she was a female doctor. Why ruin the surprise?
"That'll do. Jay, you have the insurance card, right?"
"Yep." Jay couldn't help but brush his penis a little as he patted the contents of his left front pocket.
"You'd think a little of me had rubbed off on him, since I'm a coach and all."
Jay rolled his eyes as stood from the bed.
"Stu, the physical exam form is in that envelope. Please give it to the doctor, and thanks in advance for helping to get this forgetful jock get checked out. I'll be forever grateful."
"Consider it done, Bruce."
* * *
Three of my orgasms in the last nine hours had come inside of Rebecca. The fourth was attributable to an 18-year-old Freshmen ballplayer who looked even more delicious in person but also vulnerable and a little irresponsible, and who now needed my help to get on the baseball team.
Then, finally, it was off for a shower. When I emerged in search of my towel, Jay was just zipping himself up while turning from the urinal. His undies, I could see, where white. I told him I'd stop by once he was settled to fill him in on Zeke, and when he asked why, I just said we should talk later.
I got dressed with five minutes to spare. From 10 a.m. onward, I was supposed to troll around with my "Resident Advisor" t-shirt on, ready to advise the residents.
Kent was the first to arrive, after Jay and Rudolf that is. He was somewhat of a curious young man from a small town near Sioux Falls. In his photo and now in person, Kent looked rather bookish and almost nerdy in his wire-rimmed glasses and conservative haircut, but according to his bio he was a standout soccer player who had been recruited across the Midwest. He was bigger than I had imagined -- perhaps 6-foot-2, and pretty buff. He was quiet and nervous, and Kent's mom let it slip that he had been up all night barfing at the thought of leaving home.
Been there, done that, I thought to myself.
Josh was next. A swimmer from the suburbs of Des Moines, the young man was lanky and lean with jet-black hair and a 5 o'clock shadow even at noon. I wondered whether it was true that swimmers shaved each other's bare bodies.
Then came Nick. A 5-foot-9 soccer player from a suburb of Kansas City, he wore his blond hair long in an early 80s sitcom sort of way and smiled each time he ended a sentence with a tad of a drawl.
Juan and Kevin came next. They were classmates from a school near mine, were baseball teammates, and would be roommates for good or for bad. In their photos and in person they looked about as different as two 18-year-olds from rural Iowa can look. Juan had been adopted from an orphanage in Mexico and stood a stocky but athletic 5-foot-6. Kevin had red hair, freckles and lean muscles and towered over Juan by a good seven inches.
A clump of guys came around 1. Nathan, baseball, Minnesotan, more lanky than built, still growing out of acne. Brett, soccer, hairy legs and sort of a unibrow thing going on. Robert, swimmer, the only African-American on the floor, from a prep school outside Des Moines. Peter, baseball, beard, looked 25 and like trouble. Brady, swimmer, tall, very light and very handsome in a boy-next-door, sure-I'll-mow-your-lawn sort of way.
And then came Terry. A six-foot swimmer, 170 I'd say, pleasingly proportioned, a perfect smile, and, as I soon discovered, a shy personality. Terry came from a Catholic school in a small Iowa city and he looked much better in person than he did on paper. The Freshmen's face was longer than it was wide in an authoritarian sort of way. He had a lean, clean, chiseled but pleasing choirboy look. Terry's features were fine and his dress conservative, but the baggy polo shirt could not hide his broad shoulders and he wore his shorts high enough for me to see that his legs were lean and muscled like a swimmer's should be.
"Hi Terry. Welcome."
"Hello. You're Stuart?"
Terry's hands were large, and very strong.
"Stu. Your RA. Good to have you."
"Pleased to meet you, Stuart." Terry could've beat the crap out of me, but to him I was an authority figure.
"Well, great to meet you. And Stu is fine. Ah, let me help you ..."
Outside I met his mom, a rather stern-looking woman with a hairdo from the '60s. She looked at me with suspicion as I lugged a load of Terry's stuff into Room 214. He was to room with Robert, another private-school product but from a non-religious school in the swanky part of Des Moines. And, of course, Robert was black. Actually, Robert was half-black, but in Iowa that meant he was black. Robert was in the room as Terry and I entered, and it immediately became clear that although the Residence Life staff had sent me photos of the residents ahead of time, the same had not been done for the dorm residents.
There was no mistaking that Terry had not been around many if any black people. Now, here he was living with one. Robert's bio had indicated his dad was a cardiologist; never mind he probably was from the richest family of all the guys. My heart sank as I saw Terry hesitate to touch Robert outstretched hand, and the white swimmer made sure the handshake was over well before mom entered the room. Then in came mom, for about three seconds. Within 30 seconds mother and son were whispering in the hallway.
Suddenly I wanted -- needed -- Rebecca. Not for great sex but for the experienced RA's advice on how to deal with a situation such as this.
* * *
Registration for the day closed at 4. Dinner was at 5. For a while I joined Jay on the Quad throwing a Frisbee with Nathan, Peter, and Robert. Juan and Kevin, the boys from the same small town, were playing Hacky Sack by themselves. I wished Terry had been throwing Frisbee with Robert and the others, but he was with Brady instead and seemed to be hitting it off in the lounge. Minnesota baseball player Nathan seemed to be befriending German swimmer Rudolf -- a good sign, I thought.
Peter, it seemed, was bruisin' for a confrontation. He asked me if I was in charge. I suggested I was and he said I looked 16. I said I was 19 and he said he was 20 and walked away.
The influx of young men packing testosterone was making my horny, but oddly it was Rebecca who I wanted to screw. So I called her for three reasons: to get some guidance on the Terry-and-Robert situation, and also the Peter situation, and also my own Peter situation. She gave me some guidance on the first two issues but then suggested we stay in our own dorms and "set a good example" with regard to the third.
Fuck. My "girlfriend" seemed all business. Classes were beginning on Tuesday, and she seemed strangely stressed. Rebecca explained that Dr. Fitzgerald at the clinic downtown had called to make sure she was coming in on Monday. Rebecca confirmed she was and also asked Dr. Fitzgerald whether she could help Jay get a sports physical ASAP. Dr. Fitzgerald said she was leaving town Wednesday morning and had a busy Tuesday scheduled, but that she could squeeze Jay in at the very end of the day on Monday. I told Rebecca that I'd pass it along and make good on my promise to get him there on time.
After dinner I was watching a Cubs game with Juan and Kevin when Jay came into the lounge and plopped his butt next to mine on the industrial-strength couch. He smelled like an Iowa summer, sunny and sweaty. The ballplayer was wearing loose-fitting, white mesh shorts and a muscle shirt, both of which were pretty dirty from a couple hours of Frisbee playing. His legs were grimy too, and his hair in need of a wash. As Jay got up to go back outside, I told him I'd arranged "an appointment" for him Monday. He stared at me blankly for a second but then said that'd work, and off he went.
The night game at Wrigley ended around 10 and I returned to my room to grab a towel so I could wash off some of my own grime. As I hung my towel on a peg, there was little question whose v-shaped back and slightly hairy bare butt were at the far end. It was Jay, naked, except for the towel at his head. I scurried into the shower room with an abrupt "Jay!" hoping he'd turn around, but he just responded with an "almost done" and bent over slightly to dab at his shins. My heart raced as I saw a glimpse of his testicles hanging in front of a surprisingly hairy ass. My heart sank as Jay wrapped the towel around his waist before turning to face me.
"Thought that was you, Stu."
I turned on the spray and let it hit my back as I gave him the time of his late-afternoon medical appointment with Dr. Fitzgerald and that I'd be happy to drive him downtown.
"Works for me. You know the guy?"
"Who?"
"The doctor?"
I said I didn't, and I couldn't bare to ruin the surprise that his examiner was not going to be a guy.
* * *
The thought of Jay at a woman doctor just thoroughly turned me on. Why? I retrieved my glossy copy of "Naughty Nurses" and reasoned that the scenarios turned others on too or there wouldn't be such a thing. As I perused the pages that featured glossy images of busty nurses examining and then getting fucked by a hunky businessman, I wondered what exactly would lie ahead for Jay when he was under the control of his female examiner.
I was naked on my bed, trying to suck myself to be honest, when there was a soft knock on the door. When I asked who it was, I heard a German accent.
At that point, with Rebecca out of commission, something came over me and I found no reason to get dressed as I cracked the door and told Rudolf it was time for him to be my friend.
It was close to 10:30 and 90 degrees in the non-air conditioned dorm, but Rudolf was still wearing jeans as well as a soccer jersey as he sat on my bed. I was entirely nude and about half hard as I positioned myself next to the German swimmer, clueless on how to do any of this. Rudolf asked whether I was sure, and when I said that I was, he laid on my bed, unbuckled his jeans, pulled up his jersey, and presented his naked midsection for me to explore. I touched the bottom of his testicles first. They were smaller than Andy's, about my size. Rudolf brushed the side of my thigh and then lightly gripped my erect penis. I placed my thumb and fingers on either side of Rudolf's developing erection and folded his foreskin back from the head.
And then I bent over the swimmer and put a penis in my mouth for the very first time. It felt so soft on the outside and hard on the inside. I bobbed up and down a few times as Rudolf had done on me in the swimming pool locker room, and when I rose to take on a more comfortable position the athlete removed his jeans and European boxer-briefs and sat sideways on the bed. As the German guided my head into his crotch, he smelled musky and manly. I bent Rudolf's penis away from his belly and closed my eyes as I placed the head against my upper palate. The Freshmen moaned with appreciation and said I was doing well, and suggested I "put my mouth on the outside too."
I opened my eyes to get my bearings and examined what I was about to pleasure. Though uncut, Rudolf looked about like me when he was hard -- same size, shape, etc. That thought turned me on as I tongued at the midsection of his shaft and moved up toward the head. I kept my right hand on his erection as I pulled at his soccer jersey with my left.
"Let us try this."
Rudolf rose, took off his jersey, and laid horizontally on my bed. I soaked up his aroused nakedness for a second or two before I instinctively laid to his side and put his erection in my mouth from a better angle. Rudolf had his arms around me as I marveled at how much of the German's penis I could take in my mouth. As he gently bucked his hips, I could feel and smell his pubic hair against my nose. I tried to keep my teeth out of the way, but when I bit him by mistake, the tinge of pain seemed only to turn him on.
"Stu, I'm gonna--"
I was appreciative for the warning, though being a guy I could tell what was going to come and I had the know-how to make it explosive. I lifted my face from Rudolf's crotch and held the upper half of his penis tightly as I helped Rudolf blast two shots of semen between his swimmer's pecs.
"Oh, Stu--"
I jacked the German rapidly as he blasted at least ten more shots onto his belly and into his pubes. He was noticeably smaller than Andy, but the experience no less enjoyable -- and to be honest better given that Rudolf was much like me and that I had gotten to know him a little bit first. I leaned my head toward his mess and took in the nutty, musky scent of a European Freshmen's sweat and semen. He seemed beyond pleased and even proud of the puddles we had made as he dabbed at the globs of semen on his chest and then stroked his glistening penis very lightly.
I told Rudolf that he was better than good, that giving was as good as receiving, and that I was very glad we had become friends.
pe_gay89
Porn Star
SFCFML,
Another great installment.
What a mind-blowing move-in day!
Lots of nice jock bods, a little racial tension, a girlfriend who's turned all business.
All topped off with becoming official "Friends" with the exchange stud- ent!
Thanks for taking the time to craft this chapter in such a way that we feel the time line and the interaction.
I'm thoroughly enjoying the collegiate experience. I lived at home while I went to Jr College, then was married with a family when I finally finished my BS and started my MS, so this is a close as it gets, for me!
I'm looking forward to your next installment!
Another great installment.
What a mind-blowing move-in day!
Lots of nice jock bods, a little racial tension, a girlfriend who's turned all business.
All topped off with becoming official "Friends" with the exchange stud- ent!
Thanks for taking the time to craft this chapter in such a way that we feel the time line and the interaction.
I'm thoroughly enjoying the collegiate experience. I lived at home while I went to Jr College, then was married with a family when I finally finished my BS and started my MS, so this is a close as it gets, for me!
I'm looking forward to your next installment!
sfcfml
On the Prowl
Part XV
For much of the night after my experience with Rudolf I slept surprisingly well. But around 5 the thoughts -- half dream, half not -- started leading one to the other.
It started with the somewhat surprising revelation that I found giving blowjobs to be as fantastic as receiving them. But that thought led to the seemingly unmistakable conclusion that I was gay, which meant I really should be in San Francisco, or Chicago, or Minneapolis, or at least Kansas City. All the while Mom, a widow, would be alone in Iowa. She'd get depressed at the thought that she had failed to turn out a straight son and that she had failed my dad and his family tree. And that she had failed me, and society, and ... ugh. Mom would die young, sick at the thought of no grandchildren. She'd join dad in heaven, and he'd be so disappointed in me, and in her, and in himself, and it would be all my fault, and ...
The alarm rang. I had set it for a quarter to 8. I rose, sickly delirious, and dialed all but the last number of Rebecaa's dorm room before my better sense took over and a hung up and headed for a pee. Only one-third of the dorm floor residents had arrived on Saturday, with the rest coming today, so it was pretty quiet. As I neared the bathroom, I could hear the shower running.
I came to life when I saw it was Terry, the best looking of the swimmers -- so far at least. His eyes were closed because he had sudsy hair, which gave me opportunity to soak in his delicious body from the side. White bubbles flowed down the swimmer's chest and into his groin where a floppy and surprisingly dark penis hung confidently on top of a delicious scrotum. When Terry opened his eyes and saw me, he turned his package away, but his bashfulness only had the unintended effect of putting his remarkably tight swimmer's butt on display.
I took a breath and retreated to the sink where I took my time washing my hands, and within a minute the towel-wearing swimmer's reflection was over my shoulder.
"Why you up so early, Terry?"
"I'm going to church."
"Church? Where?"
"Downtown. It starts at 10. I'm going to walk."
"Walk?"
"I guess."
I did some soul searching and offered to give Terry a ride.
"You coming with me then? To church?"
Church. I hadn't been there for a while. Mom and Dad had preferred spending Sunday mornings with the Des Moines Register, after they had gotten me through Methodist confirmation that is. But on a morning like this, I thought, church could not hurt.
"I guess. If we're back by 11:30."
"Great, sure. We'll be back by then."
I put on the nicest pair of dress pants I had, the pair I had worn to a cousin's wedding. Then I said fuck it, I'll wear a tie. As it turned out I was better dressed than Terry, who looked a little dumpy to be honest in an inexpensive pair of untailored and loosely-fitting polyester dress pants and a wrinkle-free button-down shirt that did nothing to show off his swimmer's frame.
We were walking to my car when I remembered that Terry had gone to Catholic high school, which likely meant we were going to a Catholic church. Kirk was Catholic too, and I had gone to Mass with his family a couple times when I had stayed overnight at his house. I had actually been intrigued by the experience -- the chanting, incense, holy water, confessionals and all. Strangely, I liked it better than the well-lit, carpeted, but deceptively oppressive Methodist church.
Outside the sanctuary, Terry dipped his hand in holy water and crossed himself. I just walked in and let his little polyester ass lead me to a pew about halfway up. If this had been "my" church, heads would've turned at the site of two unfamiliar young men walking in during a really dreary organ prelude. Half the church would've been welcoming but in an invasive sort of way; the other half would've looked at us with suspicion. Here, it was quiet, no organ, and no one seemed to care. It was different, mysterious, but more welcoming.
Terry knelt to pray and I said to myself, what the fuck, after last night, I will too. At first my mind was silent. But then I started talking to my dad. To my delight Dad talked back, but in a language I could not quite understand. But his tone was loving and approving. I was OK, in his eyes, even though I had sucked Rudolf's dick.
Then I turned my attention to God. I asked God to forgive me for what I had done. When I got no response, I remembered that this was a Catholic church, and I wasn't supposed to talk directly to God. I reminded God I was Methodist, and that according to my pastor Methodists (unlike Catholics) were allowed to talk directly to God and not through Mary or whoever. I asked God why He, or She, or Whatever, had made me this way, why I liked both guys and girls.
God was silent.
I asked God to change me so that I only liked Rebecca and other girls with nice tits, and then apologized and prayed with the word "breasts" instead.
Still, silence.
By then Mass was beginning, and as Terry positioned his polyester pants on the pew I tried but failed to get a glimpse of the outline of the Freshmen's floppy penis in the loose-fitting trousers. I figured God was sending me a message: no lust in church, young man. Especially of the homo variety.
I could not help but notice the swimmer rub his eyes. I looked at them best I could. They were red. Terry sniffled a little. I pressed my thigh into his, as I had done to and with Kirk in 10th grade civics class, but Terry, unlike Kirk, moved his away.
* * *
Terry and I got back to campus with just enough time for me to wolf down an omelet, change into my RA t-shirt, and distribute flyers advertising of the "mandatory" floor meeting we were to have at 7 that evening. The guys started arriving shortly after noon, and by 4:30 everyone was there.
Except for Ezekiel.
I had not found time to swing by Jay's room to fill in the fresh-faced Freshmen about his leather-and-chains wearing roommate who had hoped to go to performing arts school but ended up at our college instead. By 5, most of the floor had found their way to the dining hall. Still no Ezekiel.
The meeting began in the lounge shortly after 7. Looking back on it, the collection of so many attractive, athletic young men in the sexual primes of their lives should have been one of the most arousing experiences of my life. But my nerves quenched my horniness, particulary because Peter started things off my making it clear that he had been in the military, that he was the oldest and most-experienced "of all of us in this room," and that nobody better "fuck with him" or there was going to be "hell to pay."
His roommate was Kent, the one with wire-rimmed glasses who, though buff and 6-foot-2, had spent Friday night throwing up at the thought of leaving home. Poor Kent spent most of the Sunday night meeting cowering in the corner.
This wasn't looking good. I needed Rebecca. Bad.
* * *
Ezekiel never showed on Sunday night. Rather, as Jay later told the story, his roommate strode in on Monday, a day set aside for trips to the bookstore and dry runs to find classrooms. Ezekiel came in a cab, the only one in town, and lugged a lone suitcase and backpack into the dorm. No TV, no beer sign, nothing else. Although he wore no chains, he did wear black leather and displayed quite an attitude. Apparently the only thing Ezekiel said to Jay was to never call him Zeke ever again.
Jay came to me around 2, disappointed. I apologized for not making time to clue him in about Ezekiel and suggested they just see how it goes for a while. Jay, I could tell, wanted a buddy, and Ezekiel seemed not to be of the flavor Jay was desiring. That much became painfully true with Jay's utterance of one sentence:
"I'm not gonna live with no fag."
My heart sank in so many ways. The sensation of Rudolf's erection was still fresh in my mouth, and for the first time I associated the word "fag" with myself. I suggested to Jay that the term "fag" was not at all nice, that he shouldn't jump to conclusions, and should remember that maybe Ezekiel was expecting something different too. Then I reminded Jay of his doctor's appointment at 4:30 and that we'd have to leave by 4:10 to make it on time. I thought about telling him that I'd arranged for him to see a female doctor, but given his apparent intolerance I elected not to.
If Jay was so straight, so sure of himself, so hateful of fags, he certainly wouldn't want the hands of some male doctor probing his plumbing, right? He should be happy with what was to come.
* * *
At 3:30 I realized I smelled like shit. It was another hot early September day in Iowa, and my body stunk from lack of air conditioning. I grabbed a quick shower (all alone) and then realized I was out of clean laundry. Well, out of underwear. Shit. So I did what any self-respecting sophomore does in that position: freeballs it under his shorts.
I knocked on Jay's door at just after 4. The baseball-playing stud was bare-chested as he let me in and said he was just finishing up. I entered, watched him turn toward his closet in search of a shirt, and scrutinized his v-shaped back. Just a hint of white briefs was peeking out the top of his 501s--the same pants, it seemed, that he wore in his high school graduation photo. But they seemed looser now.
I scanned Jay and Ezekiel's room as he finished getting dressed. The ballplayer's side already was adorned with posters of sports and girls and a TV sat at the end of his bed, but Ezekiel's side was bare except for the suitcase on his bare mattress.
"I'm ready. Hope he's nice."
"I thought we had already talked about Ezekiel."
"No, the doctor."
I just told him we better get going.
As Jay buckled his seat belt I stole a glance at his crotch and felt a twinge in my own as I appreciated Jay in his jeans and realized that in perhaps a half hour he'd be out of them and under a female examiner's glare. Jay didn't want to talk about his physical. He wanted talk about Ezekiel, so I just let him vent as I headed for the family practice clinic.
I thought about dropping him off so I could go buy more underwear, but the sick side of me wanted to see the super-straight ballplayer's reaction when he learned he was going to have a female doctor. We entered the clinic at just 4:30. I handed Jay the envelope that his dad had entrusted to me and took a chair facing the check-in desk to let the 18-year-old check himself in. I overheard just enough to understand that there was "a problem," and the doctor would be out to talk with Jay in a minute.
Shit. No physical for Jay today?
Jay seemed not at all nervous and said not a word as he took a seat directly across from me, picked up a Sports Illustrated, told me that the doctor would be coming out, and held the magazine right in front of his face. He couldn't see me at all, so I soaked in the Freshmen athlete in his pre-exam state, how he held his knees perhaps shoulder-width apart, how his baseball-player thighs tugged at the Levi's denim, how his penis and testicles favored left of center.
"Jay Roberts?"
I watched the young man's face as he clung to the magazine while rising to meet a woman he expected was the nurse.
"Dr. Fitzgerald."
"Where?"
"I'm Dr. Fitzgerald."
Jay's eyes got wide as he shook the doctor's hand. She was about 35 and, like Jay, had brown eyes and brown hair, except hers was shoulder-length. Under her open white coat she wore a blue blouse that was one button away from being considered low-cut in this part of Iowa. As she scratched her head with her left hand, I saw no ring on her finger.
"Hi, uh, I'm--"
"Yes, Jay, it's nice to meet you." I tried to sense whether the doctor had any sense of anticipation as she scanned Jay's athletic 18-year-old frame, but she seemed to be all business. Then I got a clue why.
"Jay, we've got a bit of a problem this afternoon."
Jay was looking relieved.
"There's a new policy we're dealing with. I won't go into details, but for insurance reasons -- my insurance, not yours -- a male chaperone is required at all physicals of this type. This is true for physical examinations when a male patient is, of, ah your age, and the examiner -- me -- is female." Dr. Fitzgerald put her palm just above her breast when she said the word "me." "The reverse is true too, of course, when, ah, male doctors examine younger women. That's the main reason for the rule. I guess there's been some trouble."
"Well, I can--"
"A lab technician was going to sit in on yours, Jay, but he had a family emergency. I'm very sorry, I didn't have time to call you, and now it looks like you got a ride down here, and--"
Dr. Fitzgerald was finally noticing my presence.
"And you are?"
"Stuart. Rebecca's, ah, friend."
"Oh, OK. Rebecca didn't mention that."
"Well, we--"
"Hmm. OK. As I think you know ..." Dr. Fitzgerald was turning her attention from me to Jay. "... This is the only time I have available for the next week and half. I might be able to get you in with my partner, Dr. Ben as we all call him--"
"That'd be fine."
"-- but of course I don't keep his schedule."
Dr. Fitzgerald put her left hand on her hip and turned toward me. Her white coat opened even more to reveal a sweet hourglass physique. She was hot, and straight-boy Jay knew it. Even I knew it, even though the experience of watching Jay try to squirm his way out of the physical was making me feel very crooked.
"So you're male, right?"
Dr. Fitzgerald was talking to me.
"Uh." At that very point in time, to be honest, I wasn't so sure. "Right."
"And eighteen, right?"
"Nineteen. Twenty in January."
"And you're Rebecca's friend?"
"And Jay's resident advisor, in the dorms."
"Even better." Dr. Fitzgerald brushed her brown hair out of her eyes as she turned back toward Jay. "Jay, if it's all right with you, we can have, have, ah ..."
"Stuart."
"... Stuart sit in on your physical today, as a chaperone. He can sign the form, and that should be fine with the insurance company."
"Well, maybe I could just call Dr. Ben and--"
I thought fast. "Jay, look. I brought you down here, classes start tomorrow, I made a promise to your dad, and we just don' know about Dr. Ben's schedule. So I think you, ah--"
Jay took a deep breath and exhaled. "Let's get it over with."
"All right then, gentlemen. C'mon back."
For much of the night after my experience with Rudolf I slept surprisingly well. But around 5 the thoughts -- half dream, half not -- started leading one to the other.
It started with the somewhat surprising revelation that I found giving blowjobs to be as fantastic as receiving them. But that thought led to the seemingly unmistakable conclusion that I was gay, which meant I really should be in San Francisco, or Chicago, or Minneapolis, or at least Kansas City. All the while Mom, a widow, would be alone in Iowa. She'd get depressed at the thought that she had failed to turn out a straight son and that she had failed my dad and his family tree. And that she had failed me, and society, and ... ugh. Mom would die young, sick at the thought of no grandchildren. She'd join dad in heaven, and he'd be so disappointed in me, and in her, and in himself, and it would be all my fault, and ...
The alarm rang. I had set it for a quarter to 8. I rose, sickly delirious, and dialed all but the last number of Rebecaa's dorm room before my better sense took over and a hung up and headed for a pee. Only one-third of the dorm floor residents had arrived on Saturday, with the rest coming today, so it was pretty quiet. As I neared the bathroom, I could hear the shower running.
I came to life when I saw it was Terry, the best looking of the swimmers -- so far at least. His eyes were closed because he had sudsy hair, which gave me opportunity to soak in his delicious body from the side. White bubbles flowed down the swimmer's chest and into his groin where a floppy and surprisingly dark penis hung confidently on top of a delicious scrotum. When Terry opened his eyes and saw me, he turned his package away, but his bashfulness only had the unintended effect of putting his remarkably tight swimmer's butt on display.
I took a breath and retreated to the sink where I took my time washing my hands, and within a minute the towel-wearing swimmer's reflection was over my shoulder.
"Why you up so early, Terry?"
"I'm going to church."
"Church? Where?"
"Downtown. It starts at 10. I'm going to walk."
"Walk?"
"I guess."
I did some soul searching and offered to give Terry a ride.
"You coming with me then? To church?"
Church. I hadn't been there for a while. Mom and Dad had preferred spending Sunday mornings with the Des Moines Register, after they had gotten me through Methodist confirmation that is. But on a morning like this, I thought, church could not hurt.
"I guess. If we're back by 11:30."
"Great, sure. We'll be back by then."
I put on the nicest pair of dress pants I had, the pair I had worn to a cousin's wedding. Then I said fuck it, I'll wear a tie. As it turned out I was better dressed than Terry, who looked a little dumpy to be honest in an inexpensive pair of untailored and loosely-fitting polyester dress pants and a wrinkle-free button-down shirt that did nothing to show off his swimmer's frame.
We were walking to my car when I remembered that Terry had gone to Catholic high school, which likely meant we were going to a Catholic church. Kirk was Catholic too, and I had gone to Mass with his family a couple times when I had stayed overnight at his house. I had actually been intrigued by the experience -- the chanting, incense, holy water, confessionals and all. Strangely, I liked it better than the well-lit, carpeted, but deceptively oppressive Methodist church.
Outside the sanctuary, Terry dipped his hand in holy water and crossed himself. I just walked in and let his little polyester ass lead me to a pew about halfway up. If this had been "my" church, heads would've turned at the site of two unfamiliar young men walking in during a really dreary organ prelude. Half the church would've been welcoming but in an invasive sort of way; the other half would've looked at us with suspicion. Here, it was quiet, no organ, and no one seemed to care. It was different, mysterious, but more welcoming.
Terry knelt to pray and I said to myself, what the fuck, after last night, I will too. At first my mind was silent. But then I started talking to my dad. To my delight Dad talked back, but in a language I could not quite understand. But his tone was loving and approving. I was OK, in his eyes, even though I had sucked Rudolf's dick.
Then I turned my attention to God. I asked God to forgive me for what I had done. When I got no response, I remembered that this was a Catholic church, and I wasn't supposed to talk directly to God. I reminded God I was Methodist, and that according to my pastor Methodists (unlike Catholics) were allowed to talk directly to God and not through Mary or whoever. I asked God why He, or She, or Whatever, had made me this way, why I liked both guys and girls.
God was silent.
I asked God to change me so that I only liked Rebecca and other girls with nice tits, and then apologized and prayed with the word "breasts" instead.
Still, silence.
By then Mass was beginning, and as Terry positioned his polyester pants on the pew I tried but failed to get a glimpse of the outline of the Freshmen's floppy penis in the loose-fitting trousers. I figured God was sending me a message: no lust in church, young man. Especially of the homo variety.
I could not help but notice the swimmer rub his eyes. I looked at them best I could. They were red. Terry sniffled a little. I pressed my thigh into his, as I had done to and with Kirk in 10th grade civics class, but Terry, unlike Kirk, moved his away.
* * *
Terry and I got back to campus with just enough time for me to wolf down an omelet, change into my RA t-shirt, and distribute flyers advertising of the "mandatory" floor meeting we were to have at 7 that evening. The guys started arriving shortly after noon, and by 4:30 everyone was there.
Except for Ezekiel.
I had not found time to swing by Jay's room to fill in the fresh-faced Freshmen about his leather-and-chains wearing roommate who had hoped to go to performing arts school but ended up at our college instead. By 5, most of the floor had found their way to the dining hall. Still no Ezekiel.
The meeting began in the lounge shortly after 7. Looking back on it, the collection of so many attractive, athletic young men in the sexual primes of their lives should have been one of the most arousing experiences of my life. But my nerves quenched my horniness, particulary because Peter started things off my making it clear that he had been in the military, that he was the oldest and most-experienced "of all of us in this room," and that nobody better "fuck with him" or there was going to be "hell to pay."
His roommate was Kent, the one with wire-rimmed glasses who, though buff and 6-foot-2, had spent Friday night throwing up at the thought of leaving home. Poor Kent spent most of the Sunday night meeting cowering in the corner.
This wasn't looking good. I needed Rebecca. Bad.
* * *
Ezekiel never showed on Sunday night. Rather, as Jay later told the story, his roommate strode in on Monday, a day set aside for trips to the bookstore and dry runs to find classrooms. Ezekiel came in a cab, the only one in town, and lugged a lone suitcase and backpack into the dorm. No TV, no beer sign, nothing else. Although he wore no chains, he did wear black leather and displayed quite an attitude. Apparently the only thing Ezekiel said to Jay was to never call him Zeke ever again.
Jay came to me around 2, disappointed. I apologized for not making time to clue him in about Ezekiel and suggested they just see how it goes for a while. Jay, I could tell, wanted a buddy, and Ezekiel seemed not to be of the flavor Jay was desiring. That much became painfully true with Jay's utterance of one sentence:
"I'm not gonna live with no fag."
My heart sank in so many ways. The sensation of Rudolf's erection was still fresh in my mouth, and for the first time I associated the word "fag" with myself. I suggested to Jay that the term "fag" was not at all nice, that he shouldn't jump to conclusions, and should remember that maybe Ezekiel was expecting something different too. Then I reminded Jay of his doctor's appointment at 4:30 and that we'd have to leave by 4:10 to make it on time. I thought about telling him that I'd arranged for him to see a female doctor, but given his apparent intolerance I elected not to.
If Jay was so straight, so sure of himself, so hateful of fags, he certainly wouldn't want the hands of some male doctor probing his plumbing, right? He should be happy with what was to come.
* * *
At 3:30 I realized I smelled like shit. It was another hot early September day in Iowa, and my body stunk from lack of air conditioning. I grabbed a quick shower (all alone) and then realized I was out of clean laundry. Well, out of underwear. Shit. So I did what any self-respecting sophomore does in that position: freeballs it under his shorts.
I knocked on Jay's door at just after 4. The baseball-playing stud was bare-chested as he let me in and said he was just finishing up. I entered, watched him turn toward his closet in search of a shirt, and scrutinized his v-shaped back. Just a hint of white briefs was peeking out the top of his 501s--the same pants, it seemed, that he wore in his high school graduation photo. But they seemed looser now.
I scanned Jay and Ezekiel's room as he finished getting dressed. The ballplayer's side already was adorned with posters of sports and girls and a TV sat at the end of his bed, but Ezekiel's side was bare except for the suitcase on his bare mattress.
"I'm ready. Hope he's nice."
"I thought we had already talked about Ezekiel."
"No, the doctor."
I just told him we better get going.
As Jay buckled his seat belt I stole a glance at his crotch and felt a twinge in my own as I appreciated Jay in his jeans and realized that in perhaps a half hour he'd be out of them and under a female examiner's glare. Jay didn't want to talk about his physical. He wanted talk about Ezekiel, so I just let him vent as I headed for the family practice clinic.
I thought about dropping him off so I could go buy more underwear, but the sick side of me wanted to see the super-straight ballplayer's reaction when he learned he was going to have a female doctor. We entered the clinic at just 4:30. I handed Jay the envelope that his dad had entrusted to me and took a chair facing the check-in desk to let the 18-year-old check himself in. I overheard just enough to understand that there was "a problem," and the doctor would be out to talk with Jay in a minute.
Shit. No physical for Jay today?
Jay seemed not at all nervous and said not a word as he took a seat directly across from me, picked up a Sports Illustrated, told me that the doctor would be coming out, and held the magazine right in front of his face. He couldn't see me at all, so I soaked in the Freshmen athlete in his pre-exam state, how he held his knees perhaps shoulder-width apart, how his baseball-player thighs tugged at the Levi's denim, how his penis and testicles favored left of center.
"Jay Roberts?"
I watched the young man's face as he clung to the magazine while rising to meet a woman he expected was the nurse.
"Dr. Fitzgerald."
"Where?"
"I'm Dr. Fitzgerald."
Jay's eyes got wide as he shook the doctor's hand. She was about 35 and, like Jay, had brown eyes and brown hair, except hers was shoulder-length. Under her open white coat she wore a blue blouse that was one button away from being considered low-cut in this part of Iowa. As she scratched her head with her left hand, I saw no ring on her finger.
"Hi, uh, I'm--"
"Yes, Jay, it's nice to meet you." I tried to sense whether the doctor had any sense of anticipation as she scanned Jay's athletic 18-year-old frame, but she seemed to be all business. Then I got a clue why.
"Jay, we've got a bit of a problem this afternoon."
Jay was looking relieved.
"There's a new policy we're dealing with. I won't go into details, but for insurance reasons -- my insurance, not yours -- a male chaperone is required at all physicals of this type. This is true for physical examinations when a male patient is, of, ah your age, and the examiner -- me -- is female." Dr. Fitzgerald put her palm just above her breast when she said the word "me." "The reverse is true too, of course, when, ah, male doctors examine younger women. That's the main reason for the rule. I guess there's been some trouble."
"Well, I can--"
"A lab technician was going to sit in on yours, Jay, but he had a family emergency. I'm very sorry, I didn't have time to call you, and now it looks like you got a ride down here, and--"
Dr. Fitzgerald was finally noticing my presence.
"And you are?"
"Stuart. Rebecca's, ah, friend."
"Oh, OK. Rebecca didn't mention that."
"Well, we--"
"Hmm. OK. As I think you know ..." Dr. Fitzgerald was turning her attention from me to Jay. "... This is the only time I have available for the next week and half. I might be able to get you in with my partner, Dr. Ben as we all call him--"
"That'd be fine."
"-- but of course I don't keep his schedule."
Dr. Fitzgerald put her left hand on her hip and turned toward me. Her white coat opened even more to reveal a sweet hourglass physique. She was hot, and straight-boy Jay knew it. Even I knew it, even though the experience of watching Jay try to squirm his way out of the physical was making me feel very crooked.
"So you're male, right?"
Dr. Fitzgerald was talking to me.
"Uh." At that very point in time, to be honest, I wasn't so sure. "Right."
"And eighteen, right?"
"Nineteen. Twenty in January."
"And you're Rebecca's friend?"
"And Jay's resident advisor, in the dorms."
"Even better." Dr. Fitzgerald brushed her brown hair out of her eyes as she turned back toward Jay. "Jay, if it's all right with you, we can have, have, ah ..."
"Stuart."
"... Stuart sit in on your physical today, as a chaperone. He can sign the form, and that should be fine with the insurance company."
"Well, maybe I could just call Dr. Ben and--"
I thought fast. "Jay, look. I brought you down here, classes start tomorrow, I made a promise to your dad, and we just don' know about Dr. Ben's schedule. So I think you, ah--"
Jay took a deep breath and exhaled. "Let's get it over with."
"All right then, gentlemen. C'mon back."
SFCFML,
Thanks for another fun chapter.
I find Stu's experience in our Mother Church interesting - welcomingly quiet -- he'd be surprised at mine - might be a tad more like the open welcomes of his Methodist church.
I'm glad his Dad talked to him approvingly. It's good to know he's feeling good about his relationship and how his Dad would view it.
It's even MORE interesting the "lack" of response he perceives from God.
We've been told that God answers all of our questions - in HIS time.
And, the answer may not be the one we hope for -- and it may not be in a way we expect. The "non" response isn't necessarily a Negative response.
And, could Stu be any closer to Heaven than in the clinic, with the little "problem" that's "NO Prroblem At All"! lol
I feel like your're writing this story just for me. I know you're not, but I appreciate all the time and effort you're putting into it, nonetheless.
Keep up the good work. It's clean, straightforward, and Very REAL.
Thanks, a LOT!
Thanks for another fun chapter.
I find Stu's experience in our Mother Church interesting - welcomingly quiet -- he'd be surprised at mine - might be a tad more like the open welcomes of his Methodist church.
I'm glad his Dad talked to him approvingly. It's good to know he's feeling good about his relationship and how his Dad would view it.
It's even MORE interesting the "lack" of response he perceives from God.
We've been told that God answers all of our questions - in HIS time.
And, the answer may not be the one we hope for -- and it may not be in a way we expect. The "non" response isn't necessarily a Negative response.
And, could Stu be any closer to Heaven than in the clinic, with the little "problem" that's "NO Prroblem At All"! lol
I feel like your're writing this story just for me. I know you're not, but I appreciate all the time and effort you're putting into it, nonetheless.
Keep up the good work. It's clean, straightforward, and Very REAL.
Thanks, a LOT!
Endlessnight500
On the Prowl
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OH I cant wait to read the next chapter!!!!! Hope you post it soon!
pe_gay89
Porn Star
Ooh, this will be fun!
Enough about dirty underwear! Great story sfcfml. I'm really enjoying this. I sense things are going to come to a head with Peter soon. He needs putting in his place, and it needs to be Stu who does it.
I guess that extra year of education makes all the difference, 'cause every Freshmen I know (myself included) just finds one of the least smelly pair of underpants and turns 'em inside out. Although age wise, I (along with about half my friends) should be a sophomore.
Enough about dirty underwear! Great story sfcfml. I'm really enjoying this. I sense things are going to come to a head with Peter soon. He needs putting in his place, and it needs to be Stu who does it.
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I'm still wanting to do this baseball player. When we peel off all his layers of repression I just know he's gonna explode into our mouths.
Thanks!
Thanks!