Courtesy of www.99Gay-Men.US

An Extra Year In The Dorm, Part 12
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!


The closer it got to Winter Break the more outlandish Brad's behavior became.  While we continued to have sex several times a week, I realized that for me it had become more of a matter of convenience than it was a function of genuine desire or increasing affection.  He was there; he was cute; he was available, so I would fuck him or we would exchange blow jobs.  The choice seemed to be related more to how much studying I had to do than what I actually felt inspired to perform.  We were growing apart.

The expanding distance between us was more than simply in the arena of sexual intimacy.  We were becoming increasingly different from each other in other ways as well.  I was not the only one to notice Brad's radical transformation.

Even though out soccer season was long over, I still mostly hung with my mates on the team.  Sure, I sometimes went to an occasional gay party with my circle of queer friends just as I had always done, but my core group consisted of the soccer circle.

Brad seemed to almost completely withdraw from the team in terms of social life.  He didn't even consider it "going out" unless it was with a predominantly gay group that he had met through the GSA.  

I liked most of the people in the GSA just fine, but my work with the group was directed primarily to civil rights issues on campus and in the broader political arena.  Brad had no interests in any sorts of LGBT rights efforts.  His interest was only in socializing and, I suspect, some additional sexual gratification beyond that which he found in our dorm room.  In fact, he stopped going to the meetings themselves and just showed up afterwards to go out for a coffee or something with some of those who had been in attendance.

Brad's coming out was like a bullet, although he still hadn't said anything to any of his family at home despite his determination to have done so during Thanksgiving break.  The weather had become too cold for his gay t-shirts, but he had a rainbow flag sewn to his coat.  Most noticeable though was his change in speaking.  He increasingly referred to himself as "this girl," and often referred to his new buddies as "Mary" or some other female name.  His gestures became exaggerated and often what many might describe as feminine.

He had almost overnight become what the gay personal ads would refer to as "gay acting" as opposed to "straight acting."  That distinction used to make me mad.  Many times I'm not even sure what the difference between masculine and feminine actually is.  I've always felt people should be allowed to behave as they really are rather than trying to impose some artificial standards upon themselves.  I guess you could say that most of my closest gay friends are what most people would describe as masculine, but I have plenty of friends to whom I feel just as close whose behavior tends to be more toward the feminine end of the artificial spectrum.  But my friends simply behave the way they are and how they feel.

Brad's case was different.  It was as if he was trying to make himself fit a stereotype.  Maybe it was some sort of political act on his part, sort of an "in your face" statement to the world, but I think it was more of an effort to become the center of attention.  He wasn't being himself; he was constructing and projecting a new false self.  It wasn't that he was letting something that had been hidden within him out into the world; it was that he was putting on a false persona and bury his true self within him.

"Do you ever hook up with anyone else?" Brad asked one night about a week and a half before the semester break.

"I haven't this semester," I replied.

"Why not?  Do you consider us exclusive?"

I knew that he was asking for my permission for what he wanted to do or asking for forgiveness for whatever he had already done.

"No, I don't consider us an exclusive couple, if that's what you mean," I answered.

"Then why haven't you had sex with anybody else?" he probed.

"Mostly I've been very busy this term, plus you and I never really talked about it before."

"I have," he admitted not looking me in the eye.  "Does that make you mad?"

"I figured you were probably having sex.  You're an adult.  You can do what you want."

"You're really not mad?" he pushed.

"I'm honestly not mad at all," I reassured him.

I think I might have felt some jealousy after that first night or even during the week or so that followed.  Now, though, this confirmation of my suspicions came as a relief.  It was as if I had felt some sort of obligation to sexually please Brad.  It was as if a burden had been lifted from me.  It was as though I had my life back, although I was still stuck in the dorm for the rest of the academic year.

"It's just that I thought I needed some experiences, since I waited so long for my first time," Brad continued as if he thought he needed to provide an excuse.

"You don't need to explain yourself."

"Well, I just want you to know that I didn't do it because you weren't satisfying me."

Of course that was a superficial lie, but I really didn't want to discuss this, so I didn't point out the lack of logic in his explanation.

"Brad, listen to me," I said firmly.  "I'm not mad.  In fact, I don't care at all.  It's good for you to experience a little more of the world, as long as you're doing it safely."

"Oh yeah," Brad said.  "You taught me well about safe sex."

'Safer sex," I corrected him, still his mentor.  "Nothing is 100% safe."

I went back to my reading, and I hoped Brad would do the same.  Semester exams would start the following Monday, and I was beginning to feel the pressure even though I had kept up very well during the term.

My wish was fulfilled but only for about ten minutes.

"Have you ever had sex with two other guys at the same time?" he asked breaking the silence.

"No," I replied honestly.  "I've got to finish this reading so I can get to bed early tonight."

"Have you ever thought about it?" he went on without taking my rather direct hint.

"Sure.  I imagine most guys have thought about it, but thinking about it and doing it aren't the same."

"Would you ever consider it?" he probed further.

"I don't know.  I doubt that I would ever do it, but who knows...maybe if all the conditions were right sometime."

"What if it was Antoinne with me?"

"Did Antoinne put you up to this?" I asked, hiding my frustration.

"I know you and Antoinne have a history, and I think he would be interested."

"My experience with Antoinne was a long time ago and very brief, thankfully," I said.

"I thought you liked Antoinne," he said, looking a little hurt.

"Antoinne is a self-centered phony," I said.  My bitterness surprised even me.

"Why do you say that?" he persisted.

"He considers himself a Francophile, because he thinks it makes him seem more sophisticated.  But he can't even spell his fake name with the correct French spelling."

"But you have to admit that he's got a great cock," he pleaded defensively.

"Yeah, he does, but the rest of him goes with it."

I realized that Brad had just pretty much told me that he had sex with our mutual acquaintance.  That didn't surprise me, since I knew they spent a lot of time together.

"Did he ever fuck you?"

"No," I stated flatly.  "What's this about?"

"Antoinne thinks it would be really hot if he fucked you while I sucked you off.  I'll bet it would really feel good with that cock of his, plus you know that I've gotten to be a pretty good cock sucker."

"I haven't had anyone inside me in quite a while, and I have no intention of making him the next one.  I feel like I'm practically a virgin again.  Besides, I have a feeling that you know exactly what Antoinne feels like deep inside."   

"Yeah, you're right," he said staring at the floor.

I had completely lost interest in my studying for the night.  Thinking about Antoinne's proposition had gotten me a little horny, even though I would never even consider it in real life.  Still as a fantasy Brad and Antoinne at the same time sounded quite appealing.

"I could help you recover from your feeling of virginity, if you want," Brad said looking directly into my eyes.

This was a new angle for Brad.  In our many encounters, he had never been the top with me.  I didn't even think he was interested in that role.  It intrigued me.  Actually it more than intrigued me.  My heart was racing.

"Now that is something that I would definitely consider," I grinned.


"Yeah, really.  I didn't think you would want to do that," I confirmed.

"Oh, god, that would be great.  I was always afraid to ask you before."

During the past month or more I had frequent feelings that I was just being used by Brad for sexual gratification and experimentation.  Now, with my legs thrust high in the air above my bed and a tongue moving back and forth slowly across my hole, I felt that I was the one using him for a change.

The licking felt foreign to me.  It's not that I was unfamiliar with the tongue which had spent plenty of time exploring the inside of my mouth and other parts of my body, but it had never worked its expertise in that particular area.  I felt gloriously vulnerable.

I couldn't see any of the action.  I stared downward at the bedspread below me, but the sensations and the sounds kept me fully informed about what was happening.

Brad pushed his tongue inside me as far as it would go, but because of my lack of any receptive anal activity for such an extended time, I was far too tight for him to get very far.  Brad stopped his efforts, and I could hear him wet his finger with saliva.  Consequently, I was not surprised when that finger pushed gently against my closed opening.

"Put on a condom, lube it up really well, and open me up using your cock," I instructed my young roommate.

I heard him comply with my orders.  Soon I felt his rod pushing against my hole.  I pushed out as he moved forward and tried to relax despite the anticipation of the inevitable pain that would be coming.  It was almost like my first time several years before.

The lubricant made his cock slide up my crack rather than into me.  He repositioned himself for his next assault.  It was obvious that he used his hand to keep everything lined up this time.  The first part of his penetration was very tentative.  I was grateful to my younger partner that he had some concern for my comfort.

As it happened Brad's entry went better than I expected.  Of course it wasn't as painless as it had been when my ass was being regularly used, but it was much easier than the first time.  Very soon the pain that I had experienced was transformed into a familiar pleasure that seemed to have lost none of its intensity.  It became quite delicious.

Brad might be ideally suited to become one of those sports commentators who can't tolerate even a moment of silence.  Beginning with his first penile probe and continuing throughout, Brad didn't stop talking.  He started by checking on my level of comfort.  I answered his questions with nods or shakes of my head.  He moved on to telling me things that I already knew and finally a full report of what he felt at that moment.

So it went from, "Am I going slowly enough, Jim" to  "I'm all the way inside you," and "God, this is even better than I thought it would be; it feels amazing."

Once I was convinced that none of his utterances required a response from me, I was able to concentrate upon my own reaction to all of this.  I felt no need to share any details with Brad.

I felt tingly experiencing this most intimate of acts.  I remembered how cute and adorable this guy now deep within me had looked when I first met him.  Still, I had grown weary of him, so I allowed my mind to wander.  For a while I tried to imagine that it was the annoying but big-cocked Antoinne ravaging my ass, but I quickly discovered that mental imagery was not conducive to greater ecstasy.  I eventually settled on a familiar fantasy, my old stand-by.

Mentally it was now my beloved Juan who was pumping me expertly.  It was Juan's cock that became thicker within my narrow confines bringing me to an even greater sense of fullness.  It was Juan's tender hand that reached around me to caress and stroke my cock.

I thought of Juan's face and dreamy eyes as I fired onto the bedspread below.  It was my most intense and copious ejaculation in at least a month, and I had two guys to thank for it.  My roommate had done a truly magnificent job, especially considering his relative lack of experience.  Still there is never anyone better than your first true love at stimulating passion.  Unknowingly, Juan had performed that function for me again.

Afterward I wondered if I would ever be free of the hold that Juan still had on me.  I didn't know the answer to that question.  However, I did know something else with great certainty.

Brad and I would never have sex again.  I knew that he had completed everything on his "things to do with Jim" list, so I doubted that he would mind very much.  Although I enjoyed our last play together, I understood that I needed to focus more on myself, my studies and the kinds of guys that I could consider among those with whom I might have a genuine relationship.

My extra year in the dorm was only half finished, but mentally I was ready to begin preparations for a productive senior year in an off-campus apartment.  I slept very peacefully that night despite not having finished all the reading that I had scheduled.          

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