As I made my way down the stairs, I could hear voices coming from the halls. I could feel the cold sperm on my face and soaking into my boxers against my package. Fully conscious of the stain on my jeans, I descended quickly to avoid what I assumed were other students moving into their rooms on the lower floors. I made it safely to the door of the dorm, and just as my hand reached for the knob, the door swung open. A tall, lean black guy had opened the door with his back, his arms loaded down with bags of belongings.
"Hey guy," he said as he glanced at me. I stood frozen to the floor turning bright red. He must have been too preoccupied to notice anything, because he never stopped moving down the hall. My heart pounding, I took a deep breath and pushed through the door. My eyes were wide when I emerged onto the top step of the entrance; there were half a dozen guys out in the quad, shouting at each other, carrying boxes up from the parking lot, and laughing and joking. Phil was standing on the top stop of his dorm, perpendicular to mine, helping another guy with TV box. He looked me over, frowned and shook his head, and then disappeared into Robinson Hall.
I bowed my head down and started to sprint across the quad. I hadn't gone farther than 15 feet before I realized my mistake: I had called attention to myself by rushing. A guy on the sidewalk yelled out, "Where's the fucking fire?" I could feel eyes on me as the guys outside, apparently all RAs who'd only gotten in this morning and were in the process of moving in before the freshmen, stopped what they were doing to look over at me. They were too far away to see the smears on my face or to smell the bleachy odor of my fresh cum, but I could.
Once I'd made it to the parking lot, everyone was behind me. I slowed amid the cars pulled up to the curb, doors and trunks open. I couldn't find refuge in my car because Tom had locked my keys inside my room. I remembered the registration in Tom's wallet, and saw a red Jetta parked in the far corner of the lot. I darted over to it, and was relieved to see the driver's door unlocked. I opened it, hit the power locks, then ducked into the front passenger seat.
I sat there panting, eyes closed, as my heart raced. The sprint hadn't been anything, but fear had my adrenaline pumping. I could feel sweat on my forehead. Minutes passed and I opened my eyes. Looking in the side mirror, I could see Tom standing at the edge of the sidewalk and the parking lot, talking to two guys unloading a BMW. One of the guys gestured from my dorm to Tom's car, and Tom was laughing and pointing around at a couple of guys trying to wrestle a sofa in through the entrance of Hayden's dorm. After a few minutes, Tom nodded to the guys he had been talking to and made his way to his car. He opened his door and looked inside at me.
"You made good time sprinting across the quad. I watched you from my room. I was impressed." He sat down in the driver's seat. "One question: how did you know which car was mine?" My heart stopped as I stared out the windshield at the trees. "Jeff?" he asked. I turned to face him. "Busted," he smiled at me.
He started the car and put it into reverse. "You know, I had thought to myself when I was going back for my wallet," he began, "`Jeff was a little reluctant when I told him to go outside without changing.' But I realized that you probably weren't prepared for it." He was driving slowly out of the parking lot and onto the street. "I thought that, even though you'd been stubborn, as long as you behaved and didn't wipe the cum off of your face, I'd go easy on you. I'd let you sit there in the car, and we'd go through the drive through."
He stopped talking. I knew something bad was about to happen. When he finally continued, his voice was barely audible, just as it had been last night when he'd been angry at Hayden. "And then I watched you run to the parking lot, and go straight to my car. It took a second for me to figure that one out, but I remembered I had my wallet in my hand. And then it clicked." I stared at him, but his eyes never left the road until we passed through the campus gates. Then he turned to me.
"The cum on your face looks dry now. Take off your shirt."
"Tom," I started.
His eyes burned and my voice tapered off. I lowered my face. "Take it off," he repeated. I leaned forward and pulled the tails of my polo free from the waist of my jeans, then lifted my arms and pulled the shirt over my head. Tom took the shirt and tossed it into the back seat. He then reached over and opened the climate control vents in front of me. As he turned out into the main street, he flipped on the air conditioning.
It had the makings of another cool day. The morning was perfect, about 65 degrees on the way up to the upper 70s, I guess, really unusual for August in Virginia. By the time we pulled into the parking lot of the McDonald's, the inside of the car was pretty damned cold, and the freezing air pumping out of the vents onto my bare chest had done exactly what Tom wanted: I was covered in goosebumps and my nipples stood hard on my pecs. "Go get breakfast," Tom ordered as he parked.
"Tom, please..." I tried to plead. He turned to me.
"I'll have one of those egg things on the English muffin," he said coldly. He pulled out ten bucks from his wallet and handed them to me. "And orange juice. You can have whatever you want."
"Tom!" my eyes were tearing up. "They're not even going to let me in without a shirt!"
"I'll count to three. If you're still sitting here, it's done. Hayden knows you're a bitch, and he's not known for his discretion. You've got a long way to go here, and you're not going to have many friends. I'm the only thing between you and complete ridicule. I think you're cute, Jeff, and I know I make you hot. But you betrayed my trust, and just like the puppy who chews up the furniture, you need to be smacked with a newspaper. Now, go get my fucking breakfast. One..."
I stared at him and shivered. He was unwavering. "Two."
I turned and flung open the door. I couldn't even think straight. I hopped out of the car and walked up to the door, the mild air feeling warm on my bare skin. I stepped up to the door of the restaurant and could see the shapes of the people inside. I swallowed hard and pushed in.
No one really noticed me until I'd made it to the counter at the front of the restaurant. There were about a dozen customers inside total, spread out in the seats behind me. A kid only my age was wearing a white shirt behind the counter, and he looked up at me. "Hey, you have to wear..." he started until he saw my face. He sneered, looking me up and down, obviously seeing the stain on my jeans. "I don't think we have what you want here," he said. He could have been cute, nice face with red hair.
"I need an egg McMuffin and an orange juice," I muttered, looking at the floor. A teenaged girl working the drive through popped out to grab some napkins, looked at me, and did a double take. Snickering, she turned back to her window. The kid looked down and fingered the keypad. He read me the total, and I paid him. He reached back, filled a paper bag with the sandwich and a carton of juice, and handed it to me with the change.
"Now, get out of here," he spat at me.
Shakily, I turned and made my way to the door I'd come in. The people in the seats had noticed me now, standing at the front of the restaurant with no shirt. An old lady who sat across from her husband as he read the paper glanced down at my crotch, and a look of disgust washed over her face. I was OK until I heard a kid sitting on the aisle turn to his mom and ask, "What's that smell, mommy?" I ran the rest of the way out, and when I got to Tom's car, I ripped the door open and sat inside, slamming it behind me.
Seeing me with bag in hand, Tom's demeanor completely changed. He looked at me briefly before he pulled out of the lot and onto the street. "I didn't think you'd do it," he said softly. He drove back to campus, but instead of going to the dorms, he pulled off a side street, which circled around to the back of the lake. He parked there and reached back to retrieve my shirt. He laid it on my lap and invited me to put it back on. Taking the bag, he got out of the car, and walked over to a trail that circled the lake. He turned back and waved for me to join him. I got out, pulled my shirt back over my head, and moved into place beside him.
"I pushed you really hard this morning, and you surprised me," he began as we walked into the trees. "I didn't think you would do it."
"You said if you got to three, it was over," I replied, still not quite sure where I stood emotionally. I was still pretty shaken up by the trip to McDonald's, and I was angry with him for putting me in that position. I didn't understand his hold over me. He could make me do things I had no desire whatever to do, and I had no idea how. I'd known him for less than 24 hours, and I'd blown him twice, been fucked by him once, and been pimped out to his friend. Sure, he'd sucked me off once and jerked me off a couple times, but the last time he'd made me wear my cum and humiliated me in public. But, already I couldn't think about not being around him. It was as if Tom had become inextricably linked to my college experience, and it was impossible at this point to continue it without him. It was more than sexual; it was psychological, emotional, spiritual on some deep, ambiguous, internal plane.
We kept walking down the trail through the trees with the lake to one side. We reached a clearing where a bench stood next to the water. The shore line had a bend, so the small cove where we stood was shielded from the line of sight from campus by the trees on the far side of the clearing. Tom looked inside the bag he carried. "You didn't get anything?"
"I didn't feel like it," I answered. He took out a napkin from the bag and stepped over to the water to moisten it. He walked over to me where I stood beside the bench, and wiped the crusted cum off my face.
"You did look hot with dried cum on your face, but you look hot anyway," he spoke softly. He leaned in and kissed me, and I let him. He pulled away, sat on the bench, and started unwrapping his sandwich. He looked up to me. "Do you want half?" I shook my head. "Aren't you hungry?"
I found myself looking at his crotch as I nodded. He noticed and let out a laugh. "You really are insatiable." I turned my gaze back to his face to see him smiling. He had a lot of different smiles. He had a cold, ironic smile that could make your heart stop. He had a wry, knowing smile that made you pause and wonder how he knew exactly what you were thinking. He had a polite, dismissive smile that acknowledged you but also indicated he didn't want to deal with you at the moment. He had a warm, welcoming smile that immediately put you at ease. This smile didn't have an underlying meaning, though. It was just carefree and amused. "Go on, if you want to," he invited.
I moved between his legs and knelt. My hands went to his zipper as he took a bite out of his sandwich and started to chew slowly. I didn't know why I was about to give him head, it just felt natural. Even after the humiliating abuse, even though I was still a little mad at him. I guess he was right, I was just naturally submissive, and despite his ability to make me feel about an inch tall whenever he wanted, the incredible warmth of his affections when he showed them seemed to make up for it. He could tell me to do anything, I realized, and no matter how unappealing it seemed and how degrading it was, no matter how offended or repulsed I became, he could settle me with a soft touch or a kiss.
I slipped his soft cock from his fly and lowered my face to it. It didn't stay soft long as I began to lick around the shaft and head, holding it with one hand as I angled my mouth around it, under it, over it. Tom kept eating his breakfast above me as I made love to his cock with my tongue. I tilted up to watch him as he looked down at me, biting and chewing. He appeared so nonchalant, but the throbbing of his cock in my mouth when I closed my lips behind his head betrayed him.
When his sandwich was gone, he opened the carton of juice and drank it in large gulps. I pressed my face deep onto his cock and began swallowing around it as it pressed into my throat. "Jesus, OK, you have my attention now," he gasped as his eyes closed and winced. He was biting his bottom lip again as his hips began to rock and I continued sliding up and down on his shaft, rising up to swirl my tongue around his shaft and then sinking down until my nose had disappeared into the fly of his denim shorts. His head was bowed and his bangs hung freely in front of his closed eyes, his face screwed up with intense concentration.
His hands were resting idly on the bench, one holding the sandwich wrapper, the other holding the empty juice cartoon. I reached up and took each wrist, and his eyes opened. I was staring at him, mouth full of his cock, as he let go of the trash and let me put his hands on the back of my head. I saw something in the emerald depths of his eyes. It had been obvious to both of us, I think, that he could take what he wanted from me, but I saw his realization that I would give him whatever he wanted anyway. That realization hit home with me at the same time I saw it in his eyes. It was no longer some nascent concept, it was reality and, while unspoken, we both knew it. "He's mine," Tom had told Hayden yesterday. That had been a claim. Hayden challenged the claim at the Italian restaurant, and Tom had made me affirm his claim. Now, as I blew Tom in the morning air beside the lake, with the rustling of leaves and branches above us, I was giving myself to him. "He's mine," meant something different now.
It took a while, because it was his fourth orgasm in 24 hours and because I took my time about it. I licked his shaft and head, and I sucked him down deep into my throat. I knelt until my feet fell asleep, moving my head in and out of his crotch, his fingers running through my hair. I pulled his balls out of his shorts at one point, and whenever he started to get close to cumming, I'd stop sucking him and start licking and nipping at his sack. I have no idea how long it took, but finally, I let him cum.
When I swallowed the last drop, and licked away the last vestige, I tucked him back inside his shorts. I was stiff when I stood, both my legs and my cock. He pulled me down to sit in his lap, and I rested my back on his chest as he took my hands and wrapped both of our arms around my waist. We watched the wind stir the trees on the far side of the lake, and ripple the waves on its surface while somewhere families pulled into parking lots, and new students piled out to settle into their new homes. Boxes were unloaded and acquaintances were made, and in Woodman 327 a guy named Scott took the bed and the desk on the right side of the room. The one on the left was already taken.