|College Reunions Are Not So Bad,
by Greg Scott
All the usual stuff about you must be old enough in your jurisdiction, etc. In other words, if you are underage, don't read this unless you have a really cool teacher who assigned it. Otherwise, come back in a few years, when nobody will yell at you. Also if you decide to have sex, wear condoms. Whether these characters do or not wear them, the ones who will live long enough to have a meaningful sexual life will be those who practice safer sex. Grow up and act like an adult: slip one or two on!
------------------------------After my nap and shower, I was off to rediscover the city in which I went to college. While I was here, I had loved the city, so it's hard to explain why this was my first trip back in ten years.
Most of all I wanted to drive through campus and the university's neighborhood to see if anything had changed. That made more sense in the daylight, though, so I decided to postpone that until Friday. Unfortunately, I still needed to drive to campus, because I could only find other places if I started in that familiar area.
My mother has a retirement house in the Ft. Meyers area of Florida. However, before buying the house, she and my dad spent many years vacationing on Sanibel Island, which is just offshore, connected by a long bridge, from Ft. Meyers. Whenever she needs to get to some sight on the mainland, she first has to drive to the entrance to the Sanibel causeway to be able to take the most familiar way to whatever tourist attraction she hopes to find with her northern visitors.
That's the way it was with me. I knew where I wanted to go, but I only knew how to get there if I started from campus rather than from my downtown hotel. I suppose that I could have used Google maps, but what's the fun in that?
On my way to dinner I managed to get lost twice. The first time was when I was trying to find the university's campus. I followed my instincts and my basic understanding of the layout of the entire city and eventually stumbled upon it albeit from an angle with which I was totally unfamiliar. Still, circling a college campus is not that difficult even in the dark, so I quickly found an area that was familiar to me.
I identified the street that would lead me to my favorite restaurant and bar in the area, although I wasn't certain that I would identify the correct turns onto side streets that I took as a shortcut to my destination during my undergraduate days. My uncertainty was confirmed as I ended up in an entirely residential neighborhood, which was a sort of oasis of re-habbed stately homes surrounded by an area that most people would not dare explore, at least in the dark. I noted more than a few rainbow flags suspended from the expansive porches of the homes. I remember thinking that if I ever moved here this might be a good neighborhood to consider for a home.
Regardless of the appeal of the area, it was completely unfamiliar. I tried to retrace my steps, with little success, although I eventually found my way back to the main street at a much earlier point than I had originally turned off. The supposedly longer way to this restaurant was going to have to do for me tonight.
I need to tell you a little about the destination as I would have described it as a twenty-two year old. They had great food and a very different atmosphere from any place near campus. The lighting was slightly dim, but anyone could read the menu without holding it up to the candles that adorned each table. There was almost constant music, but the volume was such that it didn't interfere with whatever discussion my fraternity brothers and I were having about the likelihood of the reality of UFOs in my freshman year or of the meaning of Vicente Fox Quesada's recent election as president of Mexico in my senior year. The decor seemed from a different era, although it was an era in which all of my relatively priveleged friends felt comfortable. The drapes were velvet. The wallpaper was more fabric than paper. There was a grand piano along one side, with a custom bar built around it. The main bar was oak.
The clientele of this wonderful refuge was a mixture of serveral types of people, something that fit well into our social fantasy. There were always lots of married couples on a night out with a babysitter at home, only a cell phone call away (even though the call would have been analog). There were college students, presumably like my friends and I who had been recommended this as a quiet alternative, there was always at least one table of jovial guys who had obviously had too much to drink but were far short of becoming obnoxious, there was a group of middle aged men at the piano bar singing along to whatever the excellent pianist played. Of course, there was us. A group of three or four or five or six fraternity guys interested in addressing the world's most serious problems in a healthy discussion if not with any meaningful action.
Individually at different times, we all took female dates to this place to impress them with our sophistication. Most were appropriately convinced of our impeccable tastes, and several later became the wives of my friends. The place was almost magical--no, delete the "almost" from that last statement.
My dates, of course, were just decoration, although I honestly don't think that I knew so at the time. Still I think they might have been more aware than I. Regardless, several became more serious than I ever could have been. They were shocked to learn that I wanted to be a friend but nothing more. I hadn't meant to lead them on in any way. In fact, as far as I was concerned at the time, they were simply auditioning to be "the one."
Contrast all that with what I saw once I finally found the place ten years later. I entered through the familiar door, quickly assessed that the decor had not changed. There was still a piano, but the surrounding bar had been removed. The music's volume had increased about five fold. The music itself was no longer relaxing show tunes and old love songs. Now it was old Elton John classics, Cher medleys and little known songs by Clay Aiken, although it took a while for me to deduce the song list. Nobody joined in to sing along except for those very rare instances when a song made famous by Judy Garland happened to come up. At those times, several tables of men would enthusiastically join in.
As the evening progressed, I discovered that "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" was the most popular, although it only made the play list once every hour or so. That should give you some sense of how long I was there.
In the four or five hours I was at this formerly familiar haunt, I had only three beers, far different from my collegiate days, when I would have that many in an hour. Perhaps the immense, superb dinner I had helped diminish the effect of the alcohol.
My dinner began with...oh, what do you really care about the details. Let's just say for recording purposes: escargot, French onion soup, a cheese plate, a superb endive salad, rare tuna and vanilla custard, plus an Irish coffee, which I guess should be added to the three beers that I have although earlier reported.
During the course of my dinner, three of the guys from the occasional sing-along tables asked me if I wanted some company. I told them I was fine. One apparent husband asked if I would care to join his wife and him for dessert. I told him that I had already ordered dessert. One of the wives came over to see if I would be interested in some fun with her hubby. I simply said that I didn't know but tonight was not the night to ask. Yeah, the place has changed a lot in ten years, although maybe not as much as I thought.
I began to wonder whether those same thoughts had occurred to the previous customers, but they were too shy to ask. Maybe now as a thirty-two year old, I just looked like I had more to offer than I did at twenty-two or eighteen or at any age in between.
I needed to pee, so I struck off in the direction that I remembered the bathrooms. As I entered the hallway, I saw three signs. One said "Men's Room;" another read "Women's Room." It was the third that caught my eye because it was new since my last visit. It directed patrons to the "Special Men's Room."
I made my way through a maze of corridors to the third offering. It took three doors to make my way actually into the "Special Men's Room." I figured that the three door warning was sufficient to stop any action that might be happening inside, but I was wrong.
As I stepped in, there was a guy still slurping on a small uncut cock. He continued his efforts even though his eyes shifted toward me as I entered.
I heard additional uninterrupted action in the two stalls, and that didn't seem to be simple sucking action. Had this room been here during my own college days? I didn't think so.
I watched the sucking action at the urinals. The guy receiving the pleasure turned to me and said, "You're next, if you want."
I looked at the guy providing the pleasure, and I felt my cock grow. He looked like a fresh college kid. His huge cock was pointing skyward as he lavished his oral love on his temporary partner. The sucker looked as I might have looked ten years earlier if I had been willing to expose myself: hungry, ravished, horny, hot and eager.
The guy with the little uncut dick shouted, "Swallow you cocksucker. Swallow it all."
Based upon the amount of time that transpired, I figured that the guy with the foreskin didn't really have that much to give. It was over within seconds, and he darted out of the room.
On the other hand, the college guy who was providing the treat, spit out his reward on the floor and stood there with his dick still pointed at the ceiling.
"You want to be next?" he asked.
I did, but after my tryst with Andre, I didn't actually want what he was offering. Instead, I wanted what he was showing, which was a very hard, seven inch cock pointing where I liked such cocks to point.
I stepped in front of him. I took him just slightly into my mouth and did my thing, which consisted of running my tongue around followed by a deep throat action and a strong suction. He moaned loudly in response to my action.
"Dude, that's amazing," he said.
"Don't call me dude," I replied.
"Yes sir," he said with appropriate regard for my stature.
I began to deep throat his cock. I heard the action in the stalls come to a standstill. "Yeh, give it to him," one guy said.
"Suck him til he's dry," said another.
I pushed more deeply onto his lovely dick until I felt it make the bend down my throat.
My partner yelled, "Oh my god, that's amazing."
Then I felt him release his ejaculate onto my tongue and beyond. It crawled down my throat.
I heard one of the guys in the stalls say, "Oh, shit, I'm cumming."
The familair sound of splats on the floor followed.
"Oh, man, that was supposed to be mine," said his partner.
My own partner grabbed my head to pull it tightly against him and released stream after stream of cum that had built up while he had sucked his earlier mate. He fired it all across my tongue and down my waiting throat.
"Fuch man. Thank you, man," he said. "I can't fucking believe it," he said with his last sane thought.
"Can I take yours now?" asked a guy in one of the stalls.
"J gotta go now," I replied, trying to be courteous.
As I exited the room, my companion asked, "Can I have your number?"
"I don't think so," I said.
"I just want to repay you," said he.
"Maybe some day," I replied.
When I left, I wrote a check at the bar, because that was one of those things that made this place so popular. You could write a check for your bill, but you could actually write it for $10 more. I collected my ten dollars and headed back to the hotel.
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