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An Extra Year In The Dorm, Part 5
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.


Over the next couple of weeks after that night in the pitch black hotel room when Brad Michaels and I overheard each other jacking off, I thought I detected a change in my roommate.  The change was subtle at first and very gradual, but he exhibited far less modesty than he had during the early weeks in the dorm.  He was actually getting closer to the way most guys behave in front of their roommates.

What I noticed first was that he no longer wrapped a towel around his boxers until he was actually ready to leave the room on his way to the showers.  After a week of that new routine, he took it one step farther.  He would wrap the towel around himself and then step out of the boxers for the short trip down the all male corridor.

I have almost no modesty at all, but I sort of followed Brad's lead once I realized how reserved and protective he was about displaying his body.  So as he became gradually more open, I followed suit without giving it much thought.  Each step along the way seemed a little closer to normal to me.

Eventually, Brad worked up the courage to take it to the next level of openness.  He began getting completely undressed while I was in the room, but of course he kept his back to me as he did so.  Only after he was completely naked did he reach for his protective towel.

I have to admit to some lustful appreciation for his change in behavior.  Brad's ass was that rounded, bubble butt that most soccer players display and that I find so very interesting.  It's not a feature that most of us work on consciously.  Instead, it's simply a side benefit of the exercises that we do to build leg strength.

Juan's ass, even in mid high school, had a light covering of short black hairs.  I attributed that feature to Juan's ethnic heritage.  Brad's was very different in that regard.  Although Juan and Brad shared the same complexion and dark black hair, Brad's butt appeared to be perfectly smooth.  I found myself imagining how different his would feel in my hands; how it would be a somewhat different sensation from that of caressing Juan's lovely orbs.  I imagined my lips and tongue caressing Brad's contours as they had done so many times with my first boyfriend.

I remembered one very special time with Juan, early in our senior year in high school.  We were in my lover's bedroom with the late Saturday afternoon sun casting an orange glow to the room that had become something of a regular sanctuary for us.  The poster of David Beckham looked down upon us protectively.

We never used my house for our sexual trysts.  I was out to my parents, and I'm sure that they had figured out that Juan and I had sex.  They explained to me that they would not allow a daughter to have sex with her boyfriend in their house.  Those same rules, they said, applied to me just as they would to a
hypothetical daughter.  

My parents had been so very supportive and respectful of me before, during and after my coming out, that I wanted to honor their request.  Juan and I used my room often, but only to study together, talk or play games.  The most physical contact we ever had there was an occasional quick kiss.

That meant that our intimate times were limited to either one of our cars, which proved to be physically constraining and cramped, or Juan's house.  Juan was effectively out of the closet at school.  He never told anyone about being gay, but our friends started to just assume that we were boyfriends.  It became so much an unspoken truth that Juan and I allowed ourselves to discreetly hold hands while standing at our lockers.  Sometimes we would even give the other a quick kiss before heading our separate ways to our first period class.  We never even heard any giggles from any of our school mates.  For whatever reason, our school had surprised us by being amazingly accepting.  Juan's parents, on the other hand, had no inkling of his sexuality, and he wanted to keep it that way.

We were going to a "couples" party that night, but we decided that we were in no rush to get ready.  It was one of those Indian Summer days when everything in our rural community seemed slow and easy.  And it was with that same unhurried approach that we began our private time on this memorable Saturday.

Like many couples, we had fallen into something of a routine during our approximately half year as lovers.  We always began with kisses that became increasingly intense the longer we kissed.  Then our hands would begin to explore the object of our lustful love.  The touching seemed to alternate between discovering new muscles under the clothing, massaging, pulling the other even closer and feather light touches across the body of our beloved.

On this relaxed afternoon, we alternated gradually removing the clothes of the other boy.  It was almost as if we wanted to see how long we could make it last and to memorize each body part as it was revealed.

We whispered our love for each other, sprinkled with flattery about perfect bodies and perfect faces and perfect partners.  Juan's mother was in the house, although she was downstairs in the kitchen preparing dinner.  Still, we kept our sounds as quiet as possible.

As soon as Juan removed the last of my clothing, he positioned me on the bed face up.  My dick, of course, pointed in a line that was midway between the ceiling and my chin.  In the early days of the sexual part of our relationship we would mildly tease each other about the quick hard-ons, but we were too accustomed to each other now to bother with any kidding around about it.  It was just the expected condition for us now.

My lover used the lightest possible level of contact in going over my chest and abdomen.  It tickled me, but it was not that kind of tickle that is uncomfortable in any way.  The sensations didn't make me want to giggle.  Instead, I marveled at his deft touch.  It was almost as if I was feeling an energy from his hands more than the hands themselves.

When he reached my waist, Juan didn't continue downward as I expected.  Instead he applied that same feathery touch to one arm and then the other.  I thought I could feel the hairs on both my arms stand upright, but it might have been my imagination.

Next he traced around my eyes and lips.  I have never been treated so tenderly--not before and certainly not since that day.  It was simultaneously hypnotizing and exhilarating.

I decided that it was my turn to please Juan.  He still wore his underwear, a pair of Incredible Hulk boxers that I had gotten him as a silly gift.  I removed those with a practiced skill that seemed to improve with each of our rather frequent love making sessions.

While I was determined to give him the same degree of pleasure that he had provided me, I did not want to imitate his performance.  I guess I wanted to be creative.

I positioned his naked body chest down on the bed.  I went directly to that round, strong, slightly hairy ass that so often attracted my attention.  I pursed my lips somewhat and moved them back and forth across the mounds.  I breathed deeply of his sweet scent as my lips were tickled by the tiny but very visible covering of black hair.

Having a totally smooth butt myself, I was fascinated by the feel, the texture of Juan.  I allowed my tongue to protrude, and I retraced the same trails that I had previously explored only with my lips.  My saliva made those small hairs appear even darker and more visible.  

After I had apparently coated the entire surface, I stuck my tongue further out of my mouth and traced the crevice between the two cheeks.  I tasted his perspiration, as familiar to me by now as everything about this glorious boy, so quickly turning into a man.  I discovered that I had become rather greedy in my quest for all of his tastes.

I rolled him onto his side with his back facing me.  I pushed his upper leg forward so that his bent knee neared his muscular chest.  I knew that this position would give me the access that was a necessary part of the plan that was just then developing in my mind.

Using both hands, I separated his cheeks exposing the deeper reaches of his crack and allowing me a glimpse of his puckered hole.  I moved my face into the gap.

In this position, I smelled a different scent of Juan's.  It too was a familiar aroma, a bit muskier but no less wonderful than that which I had experienced earlier.  I licked from bottom to top the full length of these deeper portions of his crevice.  When I reached the upper limit, I moved back down to the centerpiece of my interest.

I played my tongue back and forth across this tight opening, while Juan wordlessly voiced his pleasure.  I maneuvered a hand through the opening between his legs and grasped his rigid cock with a thoroughly spit-covered hand.

My tongue began to dance with a repetitive pattern.  Lick, lick, plunge.  Lick, lick, plunge.  Each plunge took me deeper into Juan, although I was still doing little more than playing about on the surface.

My slick hand paralleled the rhythm.  Gripping firmly onto the penis I loved even more than my own, I pulled my hand upward along its full length and the brought it back down again so that I touched Juan's ample pubic hair.  All the while my tongue rejoiced at its ever deeper thrusts, literally tasting the insides of my boyfriend.

I discovered that I was able to perform the steps of the dance faster as I became more practiced.  Juan's body wriggled in response.

I felt his cock grow larger in my hand, so I knew he was close to his climax.  I felt his anus grip my tongue, so I left it where it was out of a fear that if I pulled it out at this point I would not be able to get it back into him.

Somehow I became aware that Juan was struggling to position his hand to catch his load, so that it would not end up on his bedspread.

I heard his voice, now a little above a whisper, "I love you Jim; I love you; I love you.  Oh yeah, eat my ass!"

The volume rose even more on that final sentence.  I wasn't able to tell him that I loved him, too.  As you may know, it's practically impossible to talk intelligibly with your tongue stuck up some guy's asshole.

At this point we both had to take a moment to recover.  His recovery came a little faster than mine.

"Could you hand me a tissue from the nightstand?" he asked.  "I need to clean off my hand before it starts to drip."

"I have a better idea," I answered.

I turned us both onto our backs, side by side on Juan's narrow bed.  I took his wrist to pull his hand near my own demanding cock.  Juan took the clue.  He wrapped his hand around my dick, coating it with his slick semen.

I watched as he worked his hand up and down, jacking me off while using his cum as lubricant.  Just knowing that Juan's hand was rubbing his own cum onto me brought me close to my own moment very quickly.  Before the sexiness of the whole situation could fully register with me, my intense orgasm began.  By the time I had finished, my chest and stomach were splattered with my jizz.

I raised my head enough to look at my body.  I was dotted with splotches of cum, and Juan's cum on my cock had taken on the appearance of soap, mostly milky white streaks along its length.

Juan leaned into me, lapped up the largest of the globs on my chest and deposited that onto the very tip of my dick.  Then he deep-throated me, sucking off as much of his own fluids as well as my fresher cum as he could when he came up the shaft.  I was not surprised, when he raised himself to my level on the bed and shared the mixture of our juices with me in a passionate kiss.

Because Juan's mother was around, we showered in separate bathrooms.  Then we dressed for the party.  

All of the other couples that were there were straight.  Some of them made out pretty heavily.  While Juan and I didn't join in that particularly activity, we did have a great time dancing together and talking to friends.  At party's end, we went our separate ways.  I made it home before midnight, which was my weekend curfew.

Once again, my college roommate Brad startled me as he walked in from the shower, catching me once again with my hands down my shorts and startling me from my memories as he had done on the first day we met.

"Am I interrupting something, again?" he asked playfully.

I pulled my hand out of my pants, but this time I didn't try to hide my hard-on.  Furthermore, this time Brad didn't try to disguise his glances at the outline of my hard cock.

"No," I replied, while he looked at my crotch grinning.  "Just reminiscing about high school."

"Should I ask?" Brad teased, smiling broadly, now looking into my eyes.

"Maybe some time but not yet."  I was starting to like this guy, now that he was a little more laid back. 

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