Date: Wed, 14 Apr 1999 21:34:19 -0700
From: tma4@hotmail.com
Subject: Something About Dan

"Something About Dan 1/2" (M/M) (Coll) (Humiliation) (Oral)  (Anal)
(Navelplay) (Love!)

WARNING:  This story contains graphic depictions of sex
between two (young) adult males.  If you don't like that
stuff, or if the laws of your state, city or country prohibit you,
because of your age or for any other reason, from reading sexually
explicit stories like this, then stop now!

Some parts of this story, like many good stories, actually
happened.  Some are fictional.  What's true and what's
not are for me to know and for you to enjoy (hopefully).
Names and small details have been changed to protect
the guilty.

This is my first story.  Email me at: tma4@hotmail.com
with criticisms/comments/questions!

SOMETHING ABOUT DAN 1/2

VISIONS OF DAN

I live in Northern California now, but a few years ago I was living
in L.A., land of movie stars, traffic insanity and loads of awesomely
cute young dudes, in a small house in West L.A. proper.  At that time
I considered myself bisexual, but hadn't had nearly as much sex as I
wanted (with either gender).  It wasn't that I was bad-looking.  In
fact, I was flirted with by both genders nearly every day.  I was
well-tanned, and worked out enough.  Green eyes, buzzed dark brown
hair.  I was kind of on the slender side, but toned enough.  A little
chest hair.  I was worried `cause I was 25, and, well, shouldn't I be
getting more?  But then, are there any guys except porn-stars that
actually do get enough?  And though handsome, I wasn't porn-star
material with my 6.5" dick.  Even if it'd been bigger, I wasn't a
slut...

Anyway, there I was, living in a small house on a treeless L.A.
street, with beautiful brown L.A. grass and a lot of L.A. concrete to
spice up the scenery.  Anybody who's lived there will know what I
mean.

At the beginning of June my roommate and friend Michael told me he
was moving back to Vancouver, B.C., where he had grown up.  After
five years in L.A. he'd had enough and wanted to be near his family
again.  This even after he'd finally gotten his green card!  I was
pretty crushed because Michael was my best friend at the time.  We'd
been roommates for over three years.  Fortunately I'd never fallen for
him, but he was older than me, and I usually get crushes on younger guys.

I realized I had to get a roommate if I was going to keep living in
this place...two bedrooms for $1,000 but in L.A. everything was way
expensive.  I put an ad in the Santa Monica Outlook.  Got a few calls
over the next three weeks but no one particularly serious...I forgot
to mention that flaky people are another integral part of the L.A.
landscape...but you probably knew that.

Then one day I came home from work to find that another potential
roommate had left a message.  A cool, nonchalant masculine
voice spoke:  "Hey, this is Dan, and I'm looking for a room
for the Summer.  My number's _______.  Later."  I didn't know if it was
possible to fall for someone by their voice alone, but if Dan looked
anything like he sounded, I was going to be excited...and really
nervous...to meet him.  I called Dan back and found out he was a
19-year old UCLA engineering student (um, like, yum...).  We agreed
to meet late the next day.  I didn't really want to rent out the room
just for the Summer, but I would if I had to.  Nobody else was
calling, and I couldn't afford the rent by myself.

For some reason I couldn't get Dan off my mind that night.  Michael
was leaving in two days and I needed a roommate really soon.  But I
didn't know if I wanted to live with someone who would drive me crazy
with lust, especially if they were straight.  I'm kind of the
obsessive type, and though I knew it at the time, I really had no
idea how obsessive I could get until Dan moved in (but more about
that later).  Unfortunately, Dan sounded like a total breeder.

I lay in bed that night, as usual trying to relax by thinking of
sucking off some guy, but I kept hearing Dan's voice.
Globs of cum from an imagined 19-year old UCLA boner were
shooting into my mouth and dribbling down the stubble on my
chin as I fell asleep with visions of Dan.

The next night I came home from work to find Michael almost packed up
and ready to go.  I was supposed to take him to the airport the next
day and felt pretty sad.  Fortunately we were able to talk about
stuff like this and I told him how I was feeling.  He gave me a
really big hug, said he'd really miss me too, and also said he'd
probably come visit during the Winter when it was "cold as a witch's
tit" in Vancouver.  That cheered me up some.  Michael said he was
going out for an errand.  That was cool with me 'cause I didn't want
the distraction of him there with Dan coming over any minute.

Michael left and I sat looking out at the backyard.  Then a knock at
the front door.  Wow, a punctual college kid.  Rapid heartbeat.
Palms kinda sweaty.  Am I shaking a little?  What's going on here, I
haven't even met the guy....  Wipe my hands on my shorts.  Open the
door.  There he is:  oh my God, he...is...a...fucking...dreamboat...studpony.
(This is definitely not the fictional part of the story.)  Of course
he wasn't anything at ALL like I'd imagined.  I've still never really
pictured someone correctly before meeting them, even when they give a
detailed description.

Dan had a slender but toned build, and short black hair buzzed on the
sides.  His face was similarly slender, beautifully-proportioned,
with dark brown eyes and a perfect nose (noses can make the man, you
know?).  But at 19, I could still see a slight boyish quality to his
generally masculine features.

His beautiful olive skin seemed to be a mix of Caucasian and
something else.  For a minute I thought he might be Mexican, but I
found out later that his father was from Peru and his Mom had
Scottish ancestors...what a gorgeous mix.  I found my voice.  "Um, hey,
I'm Tim," I sputtered.  "Come on in."  My throat felt dry.

"How's it going," said Dan.  He was wearing a red baseball cap turned
backwards.  It's a cliched fashion now and was even then, but it still
totally turns me on.  He was obviously still at that age where
looking cool was important.  Somehow the idea of that turned me
on even more.  We shook hands.  My palms felt sweaty again already
and I hoped he didn't notice.

"Well, let me show you the place," I said.  I led him into Michael's
room and Dan looked around.  He didn't seem like the picky type.

"$400 a month?"

"Yeah.  I pay $600, but it's a bigger room."

"That's cool.  Is there a deposit."

"Yeah.  Last month's rent."

"OK."

As Dan looked around the room a final time, I noticed he was
several inches shorter than me.  I always liked that.
I stared at the Pearl Jam concert tour T-shirt he was
wearing.  It seemed a size too small, and barely reached down to his
jeans.  Tight asscheeks.  He turned around quickly to ask a question
and I brought my eyes up to meet his.  I was worried that he'd caught
me staring at his tight teen ass.  But he didn't say anything.  After
a few more questions, he said he definitely wanted the room.  I said
it was his, and he wrote a check for the deposit and said he'd be
moving in the day after tomorrow, on Sunday.

"See ya, Dan.  Nice to meet you."

"Later, dude."  Yeah, I should have said that too.  Why couldn't I be
that cool?  Maybe that's why I wasn't getting any.  I stared out the
window as he walked to his car.  This cool collegiate boy looked like
a baseball player, or maybe a swimmer, but I didn't know which.  He
probably got laid whenever he wanted it.  He got into an old brown
Mustang, revved the engine really loud (it was probably on its last
legs) and drove off.

I sat down on the sofa and took a deep breath.  Damn it all, I forgot
to ask WHY he needed a room.  What if he was trouble to live with?
He better pay the rent on time; even his cute little ass wouldn't make
up for being late on the bills.

Jesus, Tim, what have you got yourself into now?

INTERLUDE

The next day were the final goodbyes with Michael.  I almost cried
watching him walk on to the plane at LAX.  I was in a really sad
state.  And now I had to deal with Dan.

THE WRESTLING PRACTICE

Fortunately it turned out that Dan was a pretty likeable guy.  But he
also had an attitude, even if it only showed in the occasional taunt at me.
His normal expression had a faint trace of a punkboy sneer, but it could

brighten up into a beautiful toothy smile when I told him a good
joke.  He had quite the smile.  But my worry about obsessing and
lusting over this stunning UCLA boyman actually lessened a bit.
Maybe we could just be friends, like me and Michael.

Dan did like his brew.  His side of the frig was usually crammed with
a six-pack or two, usually of Bud (he wasn't exactly a connoisseur).
Since he was only 19, he must have had an older friend who kept him
well-stocked.  Just about every day after getting home from school
he'd have a couple brews, and occasionally I'd have one with him.  The
first couple of weeks after Dan moved in he wasn't home too much since
it was near the end of the Spring quarter.  He seemed pretty stressed
out by school.  Occasionally I'd get up to take a whiz in the middle
of the night and would see him trying to mellow out in front of the
TV.  Luckily he was also polite, and kept it down low.

But as the days and nights wore on, I realized that Dan was becoming,
unintentionally, my primary sexual fantasy.  Every night at bedtime
I'd think of him.  Unfortunately, sometimes I also woke up in the middle
of the night thinking about him, and then nothing would get me back to
sleep except getting out the hand lotion, sloshing it on my dick, and doing
some serious rubbin'.  I'd never done this before, but something about
Dan made me do it:  when I was close to sperming, I'd hoist my ass off
the bed and point my rod at my face.  As I creamed it all over my
lips I'd be fantasizing it was Dan's collegiate cockhead gushing
creamy spunkjuice all over me.

Yeah, right.  Well, cumming served its purpose:  it let me get back
to sleep, even if I had to make sure I wiped off good first so I
didn't walk out in the morning to greet Dan with a faceful of the
dried nasty.

About two weeks after he moved in, and right in the middle of his
finals week, I woke up in the middle of the warm June night (OK, I
don't really remember the exact temperature of that night, but let's
just say it was, well, warm).  I heard some noises from the living
room.  I looked over at my clock:  almost two in the morning.  I
needed to piss so I got up and stumbled out the door.  At the
entrance to the bathroom, which was in the center of the hallway just
off the living room, I could see Dan's feet lying off the end of the
couch.  He was watching TV, a couple Miller cans beside him on the
rug.  (Occasionally Dan strayed from his usual Bud...daring.)  I took
out my dick, hanging half-hard over my frustrated nuts, and managed
to piss after doing deep breathing for a minute.  Looked back at Dan.
Was he asleep?  Was he fully clothed?  I went out to the living
room...Dan was staring blank-faced at the TV.  Man, there were more
than two beer cans...six, I think.  He was drinking hard.  How was he
going to pass his exams like this?  I nudged him on the shoulder.  "Hey
dude."

That did something, 'cause without warning, Dan reached out and
circled his arms around the back of my knees, toppling me to the
floor.  (It wasn't hard because I wasn't fully awake.)  In an instant
he was on top of me.  What was going on?!  "Mmmfgh, Dan, what're ya
doing, ya little fucker?"  I was kind of mad, but though half asleep,
couldn't help notice how good it felt to have him on top of me.  In
about five seconds flat he had me pinned on my stomach, and was
sitting on my ass holding my right arm tightly behind my back, which
kind of hurt.  And he was shorter and definitely lighter than me!
But then he loosened his grip and let me turn over.  I glanced at his
shorts and could swear I saw them twitch.  My own dick stirred,
half-hard again.  Dan was sitting on my thighs, and if he'd looked down,
he would have seen the bulge in my shorts.  I took a deep breath to try
to un-bone.  Don't look down, Dan.  Good thing I'd pissed or I would've
been totally hard and there'd be no hiding what I felt for him.

I looked up at his face.  He was just grinning at me, a smirky,
fuck-you-you-wuss kind of look.  It turned me on even more.
I struggled to get out from under him before he would notice.

Luckily he didn't resist me, and I managed to roll away from him.  He
sat back down on the sofa.

"What'd you do that for?" I managed to whisper.

Dan smiled a cocky, almost insolent grin.  "Practice, dude."

I was still breathing hard.  But I got out "For...for what?"

"Wrestling practice, dipshit."  He laughed.  "I was on my high school
team and I like to keep in shape.  Use the moves or lose'em."

"Oh, uh, cool."

Dipshit?  He must have been really drunk to call me names like that.

Dan crashed back on the couch.  He was seriously brewed out.  So this
college boy who could be nice, could also be an aggressive young man
after a few beers.  His behavior would probably have pissed most guys
off, but it just turned me on.  But was it really just for wrestling
practice?  I wasn't all that muscular, and was probably skinner than
he was.  Not much of a match.  Well, as he laid there and I pondered
how to get back on my feet and back to bed, I thought to myself, you
can wrestle me anytime you want, Dan-o.

Back in bed, I kept thinking about what had happened.  Could he be a
closet case?  No way, my logical mind chimed back.  So, what was
going on?

In the morning Dan was still around (he usually left early for school
way before I got up).  As I came into the kitchen, he offered me some
raisin bran.  He told me he just had one afternoon final that day.
"Hope I didn't freak you out last night, I was way wasted, ya know."

"Yeah, uh, no problem.  It'll keep me on my toes."  This young guy
really was a man.  He could drink a few beers and pin me down, and
call me a dipshit, but he could also apologize.  Well, kind of.

The week went slowly on but I only thought more about Dan, sometimes
finding myself at work staring blankly into space thinking about him.
My boss walked by and made a joke about it.  Fortunately he was a cool
guy who knew I was a good employee overall.  I tried to focus on
work, but that week there was always Dan, haunting me....

WATCHING DAN

The more obsessed I became with Dan the more frustrated I got at how
modest he was.  I'd never seen him with his shirt off, let alone nude.
He'd been taking showers in the early morning to get to his first
class, while I was still asleep.  I tried to imagine him, buttnaked.
I knew he must have a smooth chest...I just had a feeling.  What were
his nipples like?  Were they small, light brown, delicate, like a
boy's nipples, or did they stand out conspicuously dark-brown on his
chest?  He didn't look super-muscular, but I knew he had to had have
SOME muscle.  And did he have washboard abs?  He didn't seem to have
much body-fat.  That made me wonder about his navel.  Did he have an
innie, outie, or "inbetweenie" (my fav)?  Navels have always been a
turn-on for me, and I really wanted to see Dan's.  Was his ass
composed of the perfect tight fleshglobes I imagined?  And of course,
what was his cock like?  My size or an eight-incher?  Cut or not?
And most of all, what would he feel like, hard, touching the back of
my throat?  But I doubted I'd ever have a chance to find out any of
these things, especially the last.

Strangely, he'd never mentioned a girlfriend.  I was hesitant to bring
the subject up,  cause I didn't want to admit that I didn't have one
("What, are you like a fag, dude?" I could hear him say as he pounded
me to the floor), but also, I didn't want to know if had one or even
if he dated.  The thought of any girl getting boned by Dan made me
insane with jealousy, so I tried not to think about it, and silently
prayed I'd never know about it if it did happen.

How was I going to see him naked, or even shirtless?  I guess my
subconscious worked on that one, because the next day I noticed
something about our house that I hadn't noticed before.  Namely that
the doorknobs inside were about fifty years old, and each one had an
old-fashioned keyhole.  I got down on my knees and looked through the
keyhole of my bedroom.  Damn if I couldn't see straight down the hall,
about twelve feet to the doorway of Dan's room.  Between us was the
bathroom, so he had to come into view to take his morning shower.

I couldn't believe how obsessed I was getting about my roommate, but
there it was.

The next morning I woke up at 4 to take a piss.  I went back to bed
but couldn't get back to sleep.  Dan had gone to bed pretty early;
maybe that meant he'd be getting up early as usual?  I laid there for
awhile...how can one sleep in this state?  I got up and looked
through the keyhole, but couldn't see anything as it was still totally
dark.  The minutes seemed to crawl by, but the next time I looked at
my clock it was 6:15.  I laid there, silently waiting.  Luck!
Stirrings down the hall.  I could hear Dan making noises.  I got out
of bed and got ready to spy.

My neck was aching 20 minutes later when Dan finally opened his
bedroom door.  He was in his underwear, but still had a shirt on.
Damn.  He went in the bathroom and soon I heard him brushing his
teeth.  Uh, Dan, you're supposed to do that BEFORE you go to bed.
Maybe he forgot...how adorable.  Then he came out, and lo and behold,
as he walked back to his room he peeled off his shirt with one graceful
swoop.  His back was the same beautiful olive-bronze as his face and
arms, smooth, tight, with little ripples of toned muscle.  I felt faint.
He turned the light in his room on.  For the next few minutes, he was
out of sight most of the time, but then he came over to a mirror on
the wall and pulled his mouth open with his finger to look in his
mouth.  Yeah, your teeth're clean now Dan.  There he was, barechested
in his white underwear, not self-conscious at all (well he didn't know
I was watching).  His profile was like a statue of a Greek youth, a
youth that could never grow old because he would live always in the
artist's eye.  I stared in fascination as he kept moving around his
room.  What was he doing?   He seemed pretty disorganized.  I caught
sight of his stomach (finally!), tight but not exactly a washboard.
That was OK with me.  Even better, it looked like he had an
"inbetweenie" bellybutton (mmmmm):  little ridges and curls entwined and
nested together, rising from the center of his navel to lay even with
the surrounding skin.  My cock tightened up against my shorts.  His nipples
were small and chestnut-colored, as if dabbed onto his chest by a master
artist as an afterthought.  His shoulders were perfectly proportioned
to the rest of his body, muscular and manly (shoulders a wrestler
needed).  He was, all things considered, a consummate specimen of
young manhood.  My cock soared as I stared at him, peeking up from my
underwear and standing straight up against my bare stomach, thick,
hard, cut, and plenty long enough to please somebody, but unfortunately
craving someone who couldn't be had.

How was I going to get him to wrestle me again?  Well, I could always
buy him more beer.  Right, like he was going to run out.  He had
really good connections in that department.

Then Dan came out of his room.  As he walked out he stared straight
at my door.  I could have sworn he was looking right at me, through
the keyhole, but he couldn't see my eye through the keyhole, could he?
COULD he?  (I'd have to check later.)  I pulled back quickly from
kneeling, but managed to thump my butt back on the floor.  Shit.  I
stopped breathing.  I felt more alert and tense, skin prickling, than
I ever had.  It seemed as if Dan could simply FEEL that I was in
here, watching him, if he really wanted to know.  (And then what
would he do?)  After a few seconds, I crept slowly and stealthily back
to the keyhole, but couldn't see him in the hallway.  Then I heard the
bathroom door close and the shower running.  Ten minutes later he
came out barefoot but otherwise fully-clothed.  He must have thought
I might be up by the time he got out.  Why didn't he want me to see
him naked, or even shirtless?  Why was he so modest?  He WAS kind of
slender, some might even say skinny, but he had those wrestler-toned
muscles too, and that beautiful youthful olive-bronze skin.  But maybe he
didn't know how good-looking he was.  Or did he have suspicions about me
and didn't want to risk turning me on?  I hoped I wasn't that obvious,
but I wasn't sure.  After all, young men in love (and lust) give
themselves away all too easily at times.  Didn't Shakespeare say
something about that?  Well, if he didn't, he never met Dan.

It was just after 7:30 when Dan slammed the front door on his way
out.  I listened for a minute and heard his Mustang rev and drive
off.  I opened my door and went to my morning duty on the can.  The
bathroom sure smelled strong.  It was a sweet smell I couldn't quite
place, but I'd noticed it before after Dan was in the bathroom.  If he
smelled that good all the time I was simply not going to be able to
take this much longer....

LOSING MY BOUNDARIES

After breakfast it was time to go to work.  The fog was lifting and
there was kind of a hazy sunshine outside.  I noticed that Dan's
bedroom door was left open, as usual.  I'd never been in there, or
even looked inside since he'd moved in.  What did he keep it like?  I
paused at the doorway.  Kind of college student-messy.  A double-sized
mattress on the floor (big enough for girlfriends?).  Bed
unmade.  Some tapes and a Mudhoney CD in a pile on the floor near the
door.  I went in...I was just going to look around briefly.  Some
clothes on the bed.  He wouldn't keep clean clothes on his bed, would
he?  No, unless he was really strange.  So they must be dirty
clothes.  Hmmm.  There's his Pearl Jam shirt.  I lifted it up and
smelled it.  Kind of sweaty but not too bad.  Then a noise at the
door.  My heart stopped.  I dropped the shirt and quickly ran out
into the hallway, fully expecting to see Dan walking in.  But no
sound.  I went out to the living room and opened the front door.  Oh,
it was one of those guys who put those promo ads for pizzerias and such
on doorknobs.  He'd opened the screen door and let it slam.  Whew.  It
wasn't even a pizzeria I liked this time.  Damn.

Dan's bedroom called to me.  Come smell me....  What am I doing,
invading his privacy like this?  I felt guilty but my obsession with
him was the stronger.  I stealthily walked back into his room, as if
playing a child's game, as if, if I made a noise, Dan would know, turn
his Mustang around and drive back to catch me in the act.

Oh, whoa, some jockeys next to his bed.  Clean or dirty?  I picked them
up and looked at the crotch.  No yellow stains.  That's good.  No shit
stains either.  He keeps himself clean, that's sexy.  Then I took a
whiff...that smell again.  WHAT is it?  Another whiff...mmmm...it was
a sweaty sweet smell unlike any other.  His cock had been there, right
there.  Jesus.  I was getting a massive hard-on.  He wouldn't miss
this piece of underwear, would he?  I mean, he must have more.

I went back to my room with his jockeys, but stopped at the cabinet
in the hall...oh yeah, this is where he keeps his clean clothes.
There was a bar of Irish Spring soap lying on some towels.  Was that
the smell?  I picked it up.  Yup...Dan the Scottish/Peruvian boy, the
Irish Spring teen wrestler....  I walked back to my room.  I was
risking being late for work, but my cock was thwacked up against my
stomach.  I had to get off.  I laid down on my bed and draped Dan's
underwear over my face, inhaling his smell deeply.  I turned it
inside out so the place where his sweaty teencock had safely nestled
yesterday would sit over my mouth and nose.  I beat myself raw,
smelling Dan all the while, and came all over my stomach (one spurt
hit my neck...I was really turned on).  After cleaning up, I put his
underwear away...well, in MY closet.  I'll buy him some more, I
thought.  Yeah, right, sure you will.

So here I am, stealing my roommate's dirty underwear to inhale, what
the FUCK am I doing?

INTERLUDE

That was a Thursday morning, and that night Dan came home completely
wasted around 9 p.m.  He must have been partying hard.  He told me his
calculus final was the next day...Friday.  "I'm gonna wing it."  Yeah, I
thought, well, you may be cute, but you're kinda stupid.

"Don't you think you should study?" I asked.

"No, bro.  No energy."  Dan went to get more brew from the frig.
Great.  Well, maybe he'd wrestle me to the ground again that night.
But no such luck.  Within an hour he was asleep on the couch.  I turned
out the light and left my sweet drunk obsession to sleep it off.  In
the morning he was gone, presumably to school to cram for calculus.

I went to work that day wondering how I was going to handle the
summer after Dan was done with school.  Would he be around ALL the
time, torturing me?  I wondered how much longer I'd be able to take
living with this young boy, this young, beautiful, manly college student
who had taken my heart and didn't even know it....


"Something About Dan 2/2" (M/M) (Coll) (Humil) (Oral)
  (Anal) (Navelplay) (Love!)

WARNING:  This part REALLY contains graphic depictions of sex
between two (young) adult males.  If you don't like that
stuff, or if the laws of your state, city or country prohibit you,
because of your age or for any other reason, from reading sexually
explicit stories like this, then stop now!

SOMETHING ABOUT DAN 2/2

AN EVENING WITH DAN

That evening I had a good Mexican meal in West Hollywood and stared at
the beautiful boys passing by.  Well, SOME of them were pretty, and
some of them were just plain weirdlooking.  But none, however
handsome, could match Dan, the apple-of-my-mind's-eye.

I bought some CDs up at Tower Records on the Strip and went home around
10. It had been a long week at work, and I was ready to hit the sack.  As I
walked up the steps I noticed the TV was on again.  Dan sure did watch a
lot of TV for someone who was trying to become an engineer.  He nodded to
me.  Four empties were on the rug.  I went to the kitchen for some
icewater.  We watched until the end of a program, then Dan flipped off the
TV.  "Flunked my final, dude.  I'm pretty sure."

"That sucks."

Then he spoke magical words.

"Hey dude, feel like a wrestle match?  I need a workout.  Been kinda
stressed from school."

Uh, why don't you just jack off instead, I wanted to say.  I'll help.

"Well, I'm kinda beat.  And I'm not exactly good competition, you
know."  What was I doing, trying to talk him out of it?

"Come on, dude.  It won't take long."  He laughed.  "Just do whatever
you need to do to try to pin me.  It's my moves that matter."  He said
"pin me" with a smirk.  He had no doubt that he would win.

"Sure...alright."  I'd finally woken up and realized that my
protestations were ridiculous...I was going to have Dan all over me
again.  Dan showed me the correct starting position, which I faintly
remembered from high school.  I'd hated wrestling then and wasn't much
into it now, but if it was the only way I could get my hands on him,
well, I'd have to put up with it.  I got on my hands and knees and Dan
knelt next to me, one arm on my elbow, the other around my stomach.
Why don't we just stay like this for awhile, I thought?  His beer
breath blew gently on my cheek.

"Ready?" he said.  "On three:  one...two...."

We were off.  He yanked my elbow and my head hit the rug.  In two
seconds he had me on my back.  I struggled back as best as I could,
but I didn't know any good moves.  But just when he nearly had me
pinned, I managed to spin my butt around and break out from under his
grip.  I rolled over and got away, to what seemed to be his complete
amazement.

I had to struggle, I had to try to win, or it'd be over all too soon.

"Not bad, fucker."

He came at me again, but I feinted to my left and grabbed at his leg,
pulling him down.  This was kind of fun.  I was almost on top of him.
He had the moves and more muscles than me, but I was taller, and
leverage counts for a lot.

"Fucker!"  He was pissed (in more ways than one).  I almost had him
down again but he managed to slide out and backed away from me, on
his hands and knees, panting heavily.

He was starting to look a bit frustrated (did flunking the final have
something to do with it?).  He came at me again.  I blocked him, and
we locked arms.  I tried to wrap my arm around him but he kept me
away.  I tried to stand up but he tripped me down again.  I was going
to have to learn that move.  But before he could get a lock on me I
managed to get away and scrambled across the room.  I realized
I was feeling adventurous...he said anything would go, right?  I
jumped up on the sofa and faced him.  He came at me, probably not
knowing what to expect, and I leapt at him with a yell.  He definitely
hadn't been expecting that.  He fell under my weight and I had him
down, well, almost.  With my legs I pinned his torso, and thought I
had his arms down, but he had those strong shoulders....

"Fuck you dude, you're not gonna win this."

"I'm gonna try."

I was distracted by this macho talk and he managed to scramble away.
"You're a wuss and you know it."  This wasn't a kidding tone at all...he
sounded like he really meant it.  But he was drunk too, so maybe he
could be forgiven.  "I'm gonna get yer fag-ass down on the ground
where it belongs."  Did he mean the "fag" part?

"I'm not a fag, dude," I panted.

"Yes you are."  Was this some strategy to get me pissed and off my
guard, or did he mean it?  I felt like a little kid when I replied:

"No, I'm not."

He leered at me from across the room.  "Fucker, you're a fag and you
want this, don't you?"  He grabbed his crotch.

He was either totally drunk or this was some bizarre wrestling
ritual that I didn't know about.  Or maybe...?

He came towards me, his face inches from mine, and glared at me.
"Fag...got."

"What the fuck is your problem, Dan?"  This was actually pissing me
off.  It wasn't the beautiful relationship I'd envisioned.  But I
realized I was getting hard too.  Damn, it was all so confusing.

He backed off a few steps, and then he was barreling at me, head
down.  Jesus, he was going to knock the wind out of me.  I dodged to
the right, but managed to fall one knee to the floor in the
process.  Were these collegiate wrestling moves or
anything-goes-pro-wrestling moves?  In an instant he was on me,
pushing me down, seconds later straddling my chest.  I clumsily
pushed back at his stomach, lifting his shirt up, revealing those nice
not-quite-washboard abs.  I had to keep struggling or he'd really think
I was a fag.  But then again, I really did want to suck his cock, didn't
I?  I mean, maybe Dan was gay and couldn't admit it, but couldn't I?
I stared at his stomach and navel and pushed his shirt up farther.  He
had my shoulders pinned with his arms and his legs securely wrapped
around my torso.  He didn't seem to care about my hand pushing up at
him.  His crotch was inches away from my face.  I could see his
underwear under his shorts.

I tried to match his macho talk.  "OK, jerkoff, you win."  But
instead of acknowledging me, Dan reached back and put his palm square
on my crotch, which had definitely ballooned up from having him on
top of me.  He seemed to hold his breath and his voice dropped to a
whisper.  "You really are a homo, aren't you?"

Um, yeah, well, maybe not a homo, but definitely bi, but then who
just put his hand on my crotch, I wanted to say.  But I held my mouth
in case he had any intention of getting violent.  I had no idea what
he would do, and he was one drunk college boy.  I couldn't believe
what a different person he was after a few beers.  There was that
damn sweet smell again.

"Do you want it?  You do, don't you?"

He wasn't joking around, I was pretty sure.  I breathed heavily, my
stomach tense and my voice a quiver.  Well, he was even asking.
This might be my only chance.  "Whatever," I croaked out.

Dan snorted.  "I figured you were one."  Without really getting off
me, he lifted up a bit and pulled his shorts down his thighs as far
as they would go.  Time stopped.

"Like what you see, dude?  Why don't you lick my jockeys."  Um, well, I
did that this morning, I almost said, but held my tongue again.
Instead, I did as I was told, hesitantly sticking my tongue out to
where the opening in his underwear revealed his hardening manhood.
Um, your cock is hard too, Danny, I wanted to say, but kept my mouth
shut.  Well, almost shut except for my tongue, which licked away at
the material.  But this was so much hotter now both figuratively and
literally with Dan's real cock on the other side of that white fabric.
"Open up the pisshole with your mouth" he ordered.  Oh man, this was
too much.  Dan's hand hadn't moved from my crotch.  In fact he was
rubbing and squeezing me a little, but I don't think he was aware of it.

With my teeth I tried to open up the hole in his jockeys, but it
wasn't easy.  After about a minute of his sweaty jocksmell and
hardening prick trying to get free, he took a hand off my
shoulder and slowly guided his dickmeat through the hole.  It was
as rigid as any cock could get, I was sure of that.  The veins bulged
on the side, and the head was the purple-est I'd ever seen.  His
circumsized dick was at least as long as mine, maybe a little longer,
and definitely somewhat thicker.  Why'd this shorter guy get blessed
with a thicker, longer cock?  Oh well, I thought, at least I might get to
play with it.

"You want my cock, don't you, bro?"

"Yeah," I could only whisper.

"I knew you were a homo."

You keep saying that, I thought.  Look who's projecting his OWN
sexuality.

"You thought you could pin me and now look what's gonna happen.
You're gonna suck my dick."

"Yeah."  We sat there for a few seconds.

He spoke again.  "Well, actually, I don't know.  I know you want my
cock in your mouth now, but I think it'd be good for a cocksucker like
you to develop some patience."  (Hadn't I waited long enough for
this?)  "So why don't you start off by jacking me, then later on, if you

make me feel real good, I might let you suck my cock."

This boy was talking dirty and I was liking it a lot.  Then Dan
noticed his hand was rubbing my crotch.  "Whoa.  Dude, you like
how that feels, don't you?"

"Yeah."

He let go of my arms and I reached out to cradle his dick with both
hands.  It was as beautifully proportioned as he was, with the same
beautiful bronze color.  I pulled his underwear down to reveal his
tight balls.  He was so fucking BONED.  Then Dan did what I never
though I'd live to see:  he pulled off his shirt.  I stared up at his
tight defined bronze chest, glistening with drops of sweat, his
exquisite abs, and that enticing navel....  I wondered if he'd let me
lick his bellybutton too?

I started rubbing the underside of his purple shaft.  Then I used
both hands and lightly rubbed the sides of his teenmeat.  I reached
down and felt each testicle, and rubbed them gently.  I didn't want
him to come before I got a chance to have him in my mouth.  I knew
that once a guy came their attitude totally changed, and he might
even fall asleep.  But with a boner like this, I actually doubted
that would happen.  He was 19 and could probably blast it a few times
a night.

I gave Dan's throbber my full attention.  I used everything I knew
about what feels good to a dick.  Back and forth, up and down.  Light
then hard.  After a couple minutes a little drop of precum appeared,
and I wiped that around his dickhead.  He leaned back and visibly
relaxed.  I started to jack him slow, then faster.  He seemed to be
enjoying my wankjob...a lot.  But then...

"All right, dude, I think that's enough."  Dan was rising off my chest.
What was he doing?

"Uh, don't you want me to..."

Dan was standing over me now.  He looked down and smirked.  "To what,
dude?

My words stumbled out.  "To, to suck you."

"Suck me?  What do you mean?"

"Suck your dick."

His voice was pure derision.  "You wanna suck my dick!  Cocksucker.  Why
should I let you?"

"Cause.  Cause..."

"Cause what?"

"Cause I want it."

"Why don't you say it like you mean it, faggot."

"I want to suck your dick."  I'd never said that out loud to anybody
before.  It sounded so vulgar in a way, but it was the truth.  I
wanted his cock as far down my throat as it would go.

"Say it again."

"I wanna suck your beautiful cock, Dan."

Maybe he was a total homophobe, but he was getting
off on this...he really wanted to know how much I wanted him.

He spoke again.  "Yeah, well, there's a cocksucker born every
minute, and you were one of them, weren't you?"  He laughed at
his stupid (and probably old) joke.  "So here you go."
His shorts had fallen to his feet when he'd stood up,
but now he hoisted his jockeys down too, and kicked them off.  They
landed inches away from my head, and I turned my head to take a
deep whiff.  Why hide it anymore?

"Like the smell of those?"

"Yeah."

Dan sat back on my chest.

"Fucking weird."  I was kinda of getting into this submissive thing,
which was strange because I'd always been a top.  Which made a thought
flash through my mind:  God, he isn't gonna wanna fuck me, is he?  The
protocol in situations like this as I understood it anyway was the
older guy sucks the younger guy, but then gets to buttfuck him.
(That's how the Greeks and Renaissance Italians did it, at least from
what I understood.)  And I was definitely into
buttfucking...especially a cute ass like Dan's.  But just how was I
going to make that happen?

Dan settled back on my chest.  He was bucknaked now, and his
throb-rod was right there for me to savor.  I pulled his butt a little
closer to me and, sticking the tip of my tongue out, took my first
taste of Dan.  I lightly touched his cockhead with my tongue.  He
smelled and tasted good...even better than his jockeys did...this was
the real thing.  As I gently licked, I had to admit I was falling in
love with this college boy who was treating me so roughly.  But could
he ever love me back?  I doubted that.  I decided to do everything I
could to make this his best blowjob ever:  I literally blew warm air
all over his tool, tongued it, licked up and down the shaft and head,
then formed a suckshaft with my lips and sucked like there was no
tomorrow.  He pulled at my hair roughly.  It hurt, but with his
cock filling my throat I think I could have stood any amount of pain.
I stuck my tongue way out and managed to lick his hairy balls.  Then
back to his shaft and dickhead....  I tried to pace myself and only
slowly increased the tempo...I knew that was the most important factor
in a good suckjob.

I looked up and saw Dan close his eyes.  "Yeah, suck it, dude.  Make me
feel all...right."  He was digging this.

With one hand I reached up and caressed his chest and his pencil-hard
nipples.  I pinched them and Dan moaned.

"Oh YEH, yer sucking me so good..."

I moved my hand down and felt his flat stomach.  I could feel his
diaphragm heaving with each breath.  I stuck a finger in his navel.  Dan

moaned again, he liked that...cool.  I traced the ridges and
curlicues of his navel with my finger.  He was such a hot young boy.

I took more of him in, pulling him closer.  I lifted my head up so I
could try to deep-throat him.  I'd tried to deep throat a guy once
before but hadn't succeeded.  But my throat opened up for Dan:  his
penis slid down my throat and felt like it belonged there
as part of my own body.  As part of my own soul.  I knew then I was
made to suck this boy's jockcock, and I wanted it to last forever....

More precum oozed out of his dickhead and down the back of my throat.
This musty, sweaty, sweet-smelling jockboy was all mine...at least
'til he came.

I had to have some sort of release.  I pulled Dan's hand away from my
crotch and he let me unzip myself and pull my pants down.  I hoped he
would reach back and wank me, but instead he put both his hands
behind his head and gloried in what was definitely the best blowjob
I'd ever given, and probably ever will give.  Meanwhile I gloried in
his smooth chest and tummy and beautiful face above me, his face
contorted with that expression of pure sexual pleasure that you might
think was pain if you didn't see what was going on below.  His proud
hard teencock was engulfed in my mouth to the hilt, my lips touching the
skin at the perimeter of the base.  I wanted this dick in my throat
forever.  I started jerking myself off with one hand.  This was better
than any heaven could have been.

Meanwhile, I left my examination of his bellybutton and roamed towards
his smooth butt.  There was a lot going on simultaneously, but if
there was any chance of fucking him (and I can't believe I thought
there was), I had to get him used to the idea.  Squeezing his
buttflesh, I let my finger slowly wander towards his asscrack.  I
explored around the hole and then gently stuck it in a little.  This
was probably his first time.

"Uh, hey, dude, we're not going there, OK," he said.  He put his a hand
on my bicep, and my arm fell back to my side.

Maybe it was time to turn the tables.  Sucking his cock was
definitely the best thing that had happened to me in a long time, but
this experience wasn't going to be complete without me plowing his
tight little butt for an hour or two.  I knew that, even if he didn't.
Was I going to have to turn the tables and dominate him?  And how was
I going to do that?  I wasn't going to rape him, but I had to convince
him that my cock belonged in his butt like his cock did in my mouth.

I was feeling strong, almost powerful, with this dick tickling the
back of my throat.  Dan was lost in another world.  We could have
been on primetime TV and I wouldn't have cared.  Then an idea
crossed my mind....

I brought my hands slowly up the smooth sides of his torso, as if to
just feel him up, but when I got to his hairy armpits
I quickly jabbed him hard on both sides with my fingers.  He
convulsed in a giggle, temporarily losing control.

It was all I needed.  Despite the fact that my shorts were still
around my knees, I quickly slimed his cock out of my mouth, and
managed to have him on his back in a second, then
on his stomach, still tickling as necessary to keep him pliable.
This boy was going to be all mine, and his butt was going to take my
cock as far as I wanted it to go.  I was on top of him, sitting on
his jockbutt, both of his arms pinned behind his back.  I was proud
of myself:  I'd learned a few moves already.  I tickled him a little
again.  "Ticklish, aren't we?"

He giggled again, unable to speak.  How cute.  I tickled him again.
This was kind of fun.  My new playtoy.  Tickle tickle, I jabbed.  He
started laughing hysterically.  I reached under his tummy and jabbed
there. He laughed even harder...this was one ticklish drunk boy for such
a
serious jockcolt when sober.  No wrestling move to counter this.  I
could get him anytime this way, I thought....  I probed under his
tummy for his bellybutton.

He laughed and then squeaked out, "Boy, you really have a thing for my
navel, huh?"

"Yeah, I like your navel a lot.  I want to lick it and play with it.
But we'll do that later.  First I'm gonna fuck you."  I had to get him
primed to the idea.

"Uh, I don't think so."

I tickled him again and his body slackened beneath me.  "I do think
so."

He mumbled into the carpet.  "But I'm not the fag here, you are."  I
couldn't believe he was talking to me that way, with me on top, ready
to tickle him even more.  Such the macho dude.

"You may think I'm the only fag in this room, but there's definitely
two of us.  Yeah, I like to suck cock, but I'm pretty sure you need a
hard dick up your ass."

"Uh, no, I don't think so."  This conversation was going in circles.

"Uh, yeah, I DO think so."  It was time to get a finger up his butt so
I could prove to him how much he needed it.  And I knew if I could
get him into it even once, he'd be hooked.  Something about being
plowed always did that to guys.

I spit on a finger, and holding his arms tight behind his back with
my other arm, leaning with as much weight on him as possible, slowly
worked my index finger into his tight hole.  One knuckle disappeared
inside.  His asscrack was smooth save for a few hairs near the hole.
What a gorgeous butt this boy has, and he probably doesn't even know
it, I thought.  Or even care.

Dan squirmed beneath me but I leaned down on him even more.  "Don't
make me tickle you again."

"Stop it, man, I'm not a fucking faggot!"

"Yes you ARE."  I felt like teasing him.  "Well, OK, maybe you're not a
faggot, but you're definitely a Homo with a capital `H.'  A drunken one.
You just haven't admitted it yet."  I worked the finger in past the
second knuckle and twirled it a little in his ass.

Dan went limp a little and let out a big breath.  Was it working?  A
little further and the finger was in as far as it would go, up to the
third knuckle.  I probed for his prostate.  I knew that would get him
going if anything would.  Dan sighed again; in fact, it was closer to
a quiet moan.  I spit at his hole to try to lube him up some more,
but it missed, landing on his buttcheek

"What're you gonna do, dude, fingerfuck me and then spit on me?"

"No, you'd like that too much."

"Dipshit."

"At least I'm not a bottom boy like you."  Dan squirmed at that and
almost got out of my grip.  But I leaned into him with all my weight
and he stayed down.  Being taller I had that advantage of leverage.
Anyway, I think he was getting a little too relaxed from my probing
finger to offer up much resistance.  "Face it Dan, you're digging
this."

"No I'm not," he said, unconvincingly.

That deserved a challenge.  "Then why don't you get up?  You know you
could if you really tried.  Truth is, you're really liking my finger
up your ass.  Why don't you admit it?  And before long you're gonna
find out how fine it is to be fucked silly by a nice hard penis."

"Fuck you dude."

"No, that's my job."  It was time for two fingers.  Dan was settling
down, macho protestations to the contrary.  I took my finger out and
smelled it:  there was no shit smell at all, which was cool, and made
me like Dan even more.  A college boy with a clean butt.  Yummy.  I
spit on two fingers now and returned to his back entrance.  After I'd
pulled out his butthole had regrouped, and working in two was going
to be a bit more of a challenge.  But I had to make him want my cock.
I pushed as hard as I could and they slipped in.  Cool, a tight butt,
but not too tight.  Dan squirmed again, but it didn't feel like
resistance this time, more like, "Whoa, this kind of hurts, but maybe
I could get used to this.  Maybe even like it."

I had two fingers working his ass, reaming his butthole and massaging
his prostate.  Although I'd never been fucked with a cock, I'd had
fingers up my ass before and knew how good it felt.  I knew Dan was
feeling fine.  I looked back at him.  His right cheek was on the
carpet, and I saw his left eye peering up at me.  I thought I saw a
slight grin form at the tip of his mouth.  I just kept working his
jockbutt, and then...finally...Dan really gave into it.

First it was a little moan, then some heavy breathing, then a little
more moaning, and then a big gasp:  "Oh man, I think I'm gonna cum
soon.  Oh, dude.  Oh Tim."  This is what I wanted.  He was gonna be
all mine now.  Should I let him come?  Sure, why not.  Get him all
relaxed.  I plowed him with my fingers, stretching his hole for all
he was worth.  I noticed his face was all sweaty, and even his butt
was glistening a little.  But maybe that was my spit that missed.

There was more moaning, sighing, and groaning, and then Dan let out
with "Uuungh, yeh!  Here it comes, man!  Uuuuuuuuuungh!  Oh yeh...oh
yeh...."  His entire body, to a muscle, tightened and hardened.  Even
though I was sitting on his legs I swear I could feel the spasms from
his cock beneath me.  I couldn't see it, but I knew he was releasing
an immense load of jizz all over our carpet.  He whole body kept
spasming for at least 20 seconds.  Then, "Oh man, that was
fucking...great."  And I gave it to him, I thought proudly.  Just wait
'til he takes my dick.

But I had to do something else first.  I rose off Dan and rolled him
over on his back.  His eyes were closed in ecstasy.  There on the rug
was the biggest cumload I'd ever seen, bigger even than any porno
flick.  Large gooey elastic globs of Dan's white cream were lying in
three or four different puddles.  The total must have been half a
pint.  I took a look at Dan, whose eyes were still closed, and went
to work licking up his cum.  I started to beat off.  I sneaked a peek
at Dan after a few seconds.  He was staring at me.

"Man, you really like eating my sperm, don't you?"

"Yeah.  It's the best dessert I've had in a long time."  I grinned at
him.  I kept licking and rubbing myself, and before long I was ready
to blow.

"Can I cum on you, Dan?"

"Cum on me.  Uh...well...what the fuck."  I think he was too tired and
relaxed to insult me or resist at all.

He did seem to like watching me pound my dick and started a little
monologue.  "Yeah, fucker, rub that boner, dude.  Blast it all over me,
Tim." I finished lapping up his cum and crawled over, kneeling next to
him. I leaned down to his stomach, took in the beautiful sight of his
bellybutton, and bent down to lick it.  Little drops of his cum fell
from my mouth and nestled in his navel.  I probed my tongue deep in
his bellybutton and he squirmed.  "Damn, no one's done that before,
Tim.  That feels really good."  I kept probing and licking his
inbetweenie, getting back as much of the cum that had leaked from my
mouth as I could.  I was an absolute cum-freak in that moment.  Then
I went down to his cock and licked it.  It was too much. I pointed my
cock at Dan and, moaning like there was no tomorrow, drenched his
stomach and chest with at least seven massive shots of jizz.

I collapsed next to him.  He stared at his stomach.  "Man, you really
hosed me down, dude."  He turned to face me and I leaned over and
kissed him on the cheek.  Our still-slimy cocks rubbed against each
other.  Maybe losing Michael wasn't going to be so bad after all....
Dan didn't return the kiss, but if he could dig two fingers up his
butt, I was sure he could eventually get into kissing too.

ALWAYS DAN

We were both spent.  We straightened up a little (the rug was already
pretty clean) and then said our goodnights.  I wanted to ask him if
he'd come to bed with me, but somehow the words wouldn't come out.
Dan went off to his bedroom, and I reluctantly went to mine.  I had
to admit that maybe this was just a one-time thing.  Would he even
acknowledge it in the morning?  I laid down, exhausted, and in seconds
I was off in dreamland.

And there in my dreams was Dan again.  Again and always Dan.  I
dreamed he'd opened my bedroom door while I was sleeping and was
standing motionless above me, staring at me.  Then he crawled into
bed next to me and whispered in my ear.

And then I realized that I was really awake and Dan was really there,
his hot breath in my ear, whispering to me.  Whispering a request.  A
request only I could fulfill.  I kissed him on the lips and held his
smooth young torso in my arms, then I rolled him over and turned on the
bedlamp.

I had to be able to see this.

There he was beneath me:  Dan's beautiful pink butt and asshole
pucker were ready to accept my cock.  Wanted my cock.  Craved my
cock.  He told me so.

I was instantly hard and pointed my dick at his hole.  I spit on my
hand and slicked it all up.  I was ready to go, and so was he.  And
then, as I slowly eased my penis into Dan's fine ass, I felt for his
wrestler-rod hard beneath him, and held it tightly in my fist.  He
groaned a little.  I wrapped my other arm around his chest and kissed
him on the ear.  He was all mine.  I whispered to his ear:

"I love you...you homo."  He moaned some more, this time from pain I
think.  But it was a good pain.

"Yeah, I am one, aren't I?"  He said it himself.

"Yeah, we're a little club."

And then I pumped him slowly, savoring every sensation of his tight
collegiate buttcave.

SOMETHING ABOUT DAN

"I love you, Dan," I said again.

"I...love you too...you faggot.  Tim.  I really do love you, Jesus
it's true."  He seemed to whimper a little.  I turned his head with my
hand and saw a tear form and fall down on the pillow.

Was it from the pain of my cock plowing him for all I was worth, or
just the relief of finally letting himself have what he'd always wanted?

I never asked.