|An Extra Year In The Dorm, Part 11
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, 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!
------------------------------In the three weeks since my roommate and I had first engaged in any sort of sexual activity, Brad charged out of the closet like a bull attacking a matador. I admitted to my friends that I was confused by his behavior, especially since he hadn't realized that he was in the closet in the first place. Before he belatedly learned that I am gay, he had never realized that he had any same-sex attraction.
I might have thought that he simply had a schoolboy crush on me, given his prior mental and physical abstinence. However, he quickly graduated to commenting on any half-way decent looking guy on campus.
"That guy is really cute," he would say at lunch or dinner nodding toward a guy taking a seat at a nearby table; or, "Look at the ass on him," when we would happen to be walking across campus together and another guy crossed our path.
No, his interest in men was certainly not limited to me. On a couple occasions I felt an uncomfortable pang of jealousy when he would assess the sex-worthiness of another guy. Then I would realize that I was doing the same thing, even though I didn't say it aloud.
This wasn't quite as sudden as I might have implied. In fact, in the very beginning he had been rather shy, demonstrating a certain amount of fear about how others might perceive him. For example, he insisted that I buy the supplies for the experiment that I had promised him.
Alone I went to the pharmacy to purchase an extra supply of condoms and lubricant. By myself but at his request I walked to the adult toy store not too far off campus to buy a set of butt toys in graduated sizes to allow him to adjust to something bigger than my finger.
After my first night of hide the finger with Brad, he told a couple of other freshmen on the soccer team that he thought he might be gay. Once he had passed the test of the smallest of the dildoes, he confirmed to them that his suspicions had been correct, although he didn't provide any details. By the time we had reached the largest of the toys that I had bought, he was ready to buy advertising space in the campus newspaper for his announcement, although he had still not attempted the real thing.
Don't get me wrong on this. Brad had not turned into a complete bottom. In fact, he seemed to be showing the same versatility that I have. After our preliminary training sessions, he would often suck me off. Even more often though, he would mount me and fill the condom deep inside me with me expressing my delight more loudly than I probably should have in a dorm filled with mostly straight jocks.
He went to the local gay book store, apparently without any nervousness. He brought nothing back to read, but I think he must have bought his size of every t-shirt that they had in stock. One read, "I'm queer. So what?" He had the usual assortment of rainbow flag shirts plus the ironic one we've all seen so many times: "I'm not gay, but my boyfriend is." Altogether he must have gotten a dozen, although I never actually counted. He crammed them into his drawer when he got back to the room and had shown them all to me.
That night he said, "I'm ready."
I knew what he meant, of course.
For a brief moment I thought that I felt like a straight husband who hears his wife announce, "I'm ovulating," during a period when they want to conceive. The business like approach was something of an immediate turnoff, but, by the time I considered that, Brad had revealed his beautiful bubble butt to me, the kind that only other soccer players seem to have, and there was no way I required any further seduction. Besides, it had been a very long time since I had topped anyone. I was beyond ready!
We had moved our beds together several days earlier, something that must have either shocked or amused the staff for our weekly cleaning. Consequently, being crowded was no longer the problem that it had been during our first couple encounters, although the crack between the mattresses was a bit annoying.
By the time I had assembled the necessary supplies, Brad was naked on the bed with his ass in the air and his now familiar cock pointing toward his chin. Soon I joined him in his nudity and in the makeshift bed.
Patterns of intimacy seem to evolve even if the relationship is not yet a week old. Our custom was to begin with lots of touching and then move on to light kisses, which would become more passionate after a few minutes.
Brad was not in the position in which we customarily begin our sexual activities. In his mind this was clearly not to proceed in our typical pattern. There was no doubt that he had one goal, and only one goal, in mind. Briefly I felt as if I was being used, but I quickly decided that I didn't care about that.
"Screw romance; just fuck his brains out," I thought to myself.
I positioned myself kneeling between Brad's legs.
"Oh, yeah," Brad said, although I hadn't even touched him.
I ran my finger along the crack that separated Brad's muscular ass cheeks. I slid past the rosebud shaped target, and I knew that I would insist on a slight delay for a personal pleasure that I had been enjoying for the previous several days.
I placed a hand on each cheek and spread them apart to reveal my goal. I leaned forward and licked it repeatedly from bottom to top in rapid strokes. The angle was perfect, although the sensory experience was a little disappointing.
Unlike me, Brad was just back from a shower. I like to taste and smell my man. I don't want you to think that I'm into kink or anything. I do demand cleanliness, but I enjoy the personal scent that a man emits and, in those cases in which I have had the chance to experience it, the subtle taste as well. It seems to raise the level of eroticism. However, probably because he had tonight thoroughly planned, his attention to detail in the shower had been a little too great. What I could smell was just the scent of soap. What I could taste was, well, nothing.
I abandoned my licking movements in favor of something that I hoped would bring me closer to that already familiar taste. I pushed my tongue as far as possible into Brad. My change in tactics elicited a loud moan from Brad. Alas, the positive reinforcement was my only sensory reward, because I could still taste none of the flavor that I sought.
Brad startled me by shouting, "Oh yeah, shove that hungry tongue deep into my ass."
I thought that I could hear his voice echoing down the dorm corridor, although I'm sure now that I just imagined that. Still I wondered what must be the reaction to his outburst in the testosterone filled rooms near us. Some of our dorm mates might have experienced a wave of nausea, but I suspect that at least a few of the residents found themselves getting hard--and confused. I imagine that even straight guys wouldn't mind having a tongue shoved up their asses, regardless of the sex of the person attached to that tongue.
I reached for the lube and applied it generously to my middle finger. I smeared some of the excess around Brad's hole. I very slowly pushed into him. His sphincter offered little resistance, and he moved his butt in slow circular movements.
I pulled out my finger, oozed some lube onto my index finger and gently pushed it along with my middle digit into him. This time I could feel the tightness of his opening around my two buried fingers, but he did not clamp down or indicate in any way that he found the bigger intrusion uncomfortable. The practice sessions seemed to have prepared him well.
"I'm definitely ready for you," he said grinning at me across his shoulder. "Stick it into me."
"Be patient," I replied as he watched me rub lubricant all over my throbbing cock.
Apparently I didn't need his taste or aroma to bring me to full arousal, not after such a long time of lusting after my target.
I grabbed a condom, which I had already removed from its pesky foil wrapper.
"What are you doing?" he asked, seemingly confused although it seemed rather obvious to me.
"I'm putting on a condom," I replied, despite the fact that I wasn't sure that was the source of his confusion.
"But you already lubed your cock," he said, and I finally understood why he seem nonplussed.
"I lube my cock before I put the condom on because it adds to my pleasure," I explained.
"No, I just want you. I want to experience skin against skin."
"It will feel the same to you," I said, trying to imply the logic from his point of view.
"But I want your cum inside me."
"No," I said. "I am always safe."
"But I have never been with anyone else," he pleaded.
"I know," I said, although in fact you can never be certain that such a statement is absolutely true. "I've been with other guys though."
"Yeah, but you've always been safe."
"'Always' is the key word there," I tried to get across my point. "'Always' includes now."
By that time I had the condom on firmly and had applied plenty of goo to it. He seemed to realize that a continuation of our dispute would only delay what he really wanted.
"Give me guidance," I instructed my anally virgin partner. "Tell me if I hurt you."
"I'm ready," he repeated his refrain.
I placed the tip of my cock against the hole where my tongue and fingers had played moments before. I grabbed his hips gently, and I began to push forward firmly but very slowly.
I had just reached the gate when Brad pushed himself backwards with force and impaled himself onto my cock, now completely buried inside him.
"Oh my god that hurts," he said, as I felt every muscle in his body tense.
"Hold still for a while," I implored. "You'll get used to it. Breathe deeply."
I couldn't believe how foolish he had been. I guess he simply had no reference point to consult and allow me to be in charge of this new experience for him. Maybe he thought that his dildoes had prepared him fully. Remember, he had no other experience.
His actions frightened me, and I wondered if he might be seriously injured. Soon I saw that his deep breaths seemed to be doing the trick as most of his body began to relax. That provided enough relief for me to notice the remarkable sensations that were dazzling my dick.
"Okay," he whispered at last.
I began the pumping movement at a very slow pace. He seemed to be handling it without any discomfort. I was pleased that I still remembered how to do it after more than a year without this special treat.
"It's starting to feel good, now," Brad said.
I picked up speed. I should have focused upon what he was experiencing during this first time adventure, but increasingly I began to focus on myself. Without realizing it I had accelerated to full speed. I raced toward my goal, pounding my balls into the lower part of his ass and then pulling almost all of the way out again. Time after time I assaulted him in that way with more force on each collision.
"Oh my god, your cock feels great in my ass," he said far too loudly for our environment, but I didn't care at all.
"I'm getting close," I said with only a little less volume than Brad had used, and the level increased with each word. "I'm going to cum soon."
I sensed my scrotum contracting, and I could feel my juice flowing through winding tubes within me. Brad proved himself to be a quick learning bottom, because he tightened his ass. The pleasure was excruciating.
I pounded him even harder. Each time I made a noise like a tennis player makes during a serve. I was only vaguely aware that Brad echoed my noises.
I actually started firing on an upstroke, but I felt even more shoot out of me when I quickly buried myself to my pubic hair. Brad clenched even tighter. As a reward I kept pounding him through my entire orgasm and even beyond.
I ran out of cum before running out of oxygen but not by much. I collapsed finally onto Brad's back, and he collapsed onto the bed below him.
"I have sinned," Brad said.
For a brief moment, I felt panic. Had Brad hidden some hyper-religious instinct from me.
"What do you mean?" I asked a little fearful of the answer.
"I came all over the bed," he explained. "At least all over your side."
"I'm impressed," I said laughing. "That's not very common for a first timer."
"I'm a natural," he said.
I certainly wouldn't disagree with that statement.
Brad left our bed to retrieve a t-shirt from his drawer. He slipped into it, looking as sexy with his chest covered as he had when he was totally naked. He slept in just the t-shirt. For the next two weeks he rotated through his new t-shirts, wearing a clean one at night next to me and another to classes the following day. He allowed his attire to scream his newly discovered orientation to the world.
When I awoke the next morning I found I had dried cum all over my torso. Brad licked it all off so that nobody would notice it when I walked to the shower room in just my towel. That seemed to be the only evidence of discretion that I observed in him, although I don't really believe that discretion was the true motivating factor in his actions.
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