Date: Sat, 17 Apr 2021 11:58:21 +0000 (UTC)
From: Terry Green <terrygreen822@aol.com>
Subject: Fun with Dave at the Ivy School

Thank you nifty. Also to all who read and write here. Let's keep the
show going, and if you can please donate to nifty, as running such a
service isn't low cost. May you all stay safe, and thank you for any
feedback. All the best, Terry

Dave was wearing tight red silky boxers. I saw his bulge, that soon would
be in my hormonally challenged fingers and mouth. It was a tough adjustment
going to Harvard. Sure I was "the geek" of Los Angeles Public Schools, and
it was fun being the valedictorian. Just like my predecessors, I gave the
same cheesy speech at graduation of following your dreams, and never being
afraid to be challenged. Outward appearances can be deceiving I'm
afraid. Despite being cerebral, I had also lettered in basketball and
lacrosse, along with having a Eagle Scout award. It seemed I had it all, as
I had been the homecoming king, and had a good group of friends. My parents
were everyone's favorite in our upscale neighborhood, although I had heard
some laughing when Harvard offered me a full ride sports scholarship.

It wasn't my fault that I dominated at the point guard/shooting guard
position, and at 6'3 and 200 pounds of bulk, I was able to move fast. A
lot of my African American friends joked I was black, and could shoot a
ball "like none other." Yet my favorite part of the game, was passing
and getting that assist. This was arduous, and came down to split second
decisions. Lots of scouts were at my games, and while yes I liked the
attention, what mattered was how to win. In three of my four years on the
team, we had been state champions. Our strong forward Jamal was going to
Duke, and our center Matthew was going to UCLA. They got free rides too,
and played at a level, that made my game look pedestrian by comparison.

My teammates were all friends, family really, and our goodbye party that
summer was emotional. There were so many unknowns. Looking back this is a
normal feeling, as it's a rite of passage experienced by thousands of
Americans every year. Plus we weren't being drafted to war like previous
generations. Instead we were off to our respected campuses, where we
could keep in touch on Facebook, FaceTime, and simply texting at a
moments whim. It was a good feeling to know, that Jamal and Matthew
we're making the transition with me. Yet my arrival to Boston was a
cultural shock. Yes I had been warned "polar opposite " of Cali, but
until you're there, that's only mere words.

Upon my flight arriving, I was a bit shaken up by the landing at Logan.
All you see is the ocean, before the wheels magically plant you on the
runway. Entering this airport, you hear everyone, speaking sarcastically
and dropping letters on words. Cars becomes cahs, bar becomes bah.
Strange and ominous. Not exactly welcoming after a multi hour flight. As
if being in a small place for hours isn't enough fun, you get to find
your luggage perhaps. Logan could very well be Dante's interpretation of
hell, as the misery factor index is always high. Thankfully the ivy's do
offer benefits. A driver from the Harvard Alumni, along with my new
basketball coach, met me here and helped with the gigantic bags that had
also flown across the country.

Coach Johnson was who, along with the free ride and prestige of the
school, who had sold me on the USA's oldest college. Yes I had other
offers, but I knew that my career path, was not going to be in the NBA.
The Ivy League universities during March Madness, are more likely to be
an answer on a Jeopardy question, than playing against the likes of North
Carolina or Gonzaga. Yes it was NCAA athletics, but at this level
competition would be solid, but it wouldn't be fierce. Sure as a student
of James Naimsmith's game, I'd watch the insanity and participate in
the pools/bets, but lining up in the championship wasn't a reality.

In the car Mr Hudson, who told me to call him Bill and Coach Johnson,
we're both amiable, affable types. Even as the Town Car pulled off into
parts unknown, I knew I had chosen wisely. Both coach and Bill, advised
me of some of the sights as we moved through traffic. All my life I had
never seen people in such a hurry. Plus why were the roads so bumpy here?
We were going at probably Mach 2, but I was able to see Bunker Hill.
Although a business major had already been declared, I found history
fascinating. So many people forgot, or didn't know, that Crispus Attucks
of the Boston Massacre was a black man. While Coach Johnson and Bill
showed me some of the attractions, and made me feel welcome, I was at a
feeling of "crossroads." Was this a dream, this new foreign land and
the exhaustion of getting to this big city? It felt so different than LA,
and yet at the same time there were similarities.

My first week of school was a blur. My roommate Jason was a bit aloof but
pleasant, as he was local to the area hailing from Springfield,
Massachusetts. He was only an hour or so from home, and already twice his
parents, brothers, and sisters had visited him. My parents called as did
I, and my high school teammates were also feeling lost. Yet we all
communicated the "need to be successful, to persevere with the new
challenges." I remember Jamal's words still, and they did provide hope
during the adjustments. Classes were far more rigorous than I expected.
This was not going to be a cakewalk, yet I liked all of my professors. My
favorite was the lady who taught microeconomics, as her mannerisms and
wit were an instant refreshment. It hadn't been my favorite high school
class, but I knew that it would be at the university level. Yes Adam
Smith was brought up multiple times.

Meeting the team the first time was intimidating. I was the only
freshman. My new nickname was "Red Shirt," as I wasn't going to play
during my first year. The hazing wasn't too bad, except for the
scavenger hunt the team welcomed me with, but these guys were bigger than
what our team had back in California. It was if I all of a sudden was
surrounded by leviathans. These mountains of men were all around 6'6 to
7' tall! The center named Bjorn was for his size, very polite and took
me under his wing. During practices, he made sure I got time with the
first team, and it was super intense yet the drills were exciting. The
tempo was a lot quicker, and sitting on the sideline that first game was
humbling. Coach Johnson transformed during real action, and became highly
animated, along with borderline insane with his passion. All kinds of
yelling and jumping around, although to his credit, he never berated any
of the players. The referees took the brunt, but then again, wasn't that
part of their job duties?

That first semester days all mixed into one it seemed. My first frat
party was the biggest event I ever went to, and the amount of beer and
booze was shocking. When not studying or practicing, I often connected on
the WiFi at a coffee store at Harvard Yard. This part of Boston is almost
calming. Just be careful in the crosswalks, as the drivers still don't
follow lights or established rules. I liked Bernards Coffee, and got to
know some of the employees there. A guy my age, who studied at
Northeastern, worked as a barista. His name was Dave, and when I saw him,
well there is truth to instantaneous attraction. Later on he admitted the
same, and soon both of us were inseparable. Whether we were on each
other's respective campuses, or later on a weekend in Providencetown,
right away we clicked. He was a thin yet athletic blonde guy with the
softest hue of green eyes. Standing in close to 6 foot tall, he was a
history major, and always knew random facts that kept my mind spinning.
Intellect and common interests are important in any relationship, whether
they are your friends or a partner.

Dave and I soon were spending a lot of time together. Romance hadn't
bloomed yet, but I was so physically, mentally, and emotionally desiring
him. Sure we held hands sometimes, and kissed a bit, but it was if the
universe stopped us from quick passion. We actually got to know each
other. This was different from high school, when I was slinging my lead
everywhere, and was known for the ravenous appetite. It was funny
watching guys fight each other, and have spats, over who was going to be
my lover. Sure I had fucked quite a few in high school, but here in
college maybe I was maturing a bit. Dave was great company, and also a
terrific artist. Whether it was free hand drawing or painting, he had
this ability to look at something for five minutes, and from memory dole
it out on paper or canvas.

He also was a local, coming from relatively close by Hartford,
Connecticut. I learned a lot about New England from him, and it was he
who showed me clam chowder for the first time. It was divine and still is
one of my favorite dishes. He showed me how to eat lobster, and I
couldn't get over the prices. Here it was $4 a pound, back home five
times that amount. At first I thought Dave was joking that lobster was
once prison food. How could a delicacy be? Yet articles on Google proved
him correct. The old settlers thought they looked ugly and they were
plentiful, so that's how folks on the wrong side of the law got this
treat. It was succulent, and Dave explained the "Salem Witch Trials."
Sure I had heard about them, but was unaware of people accused of being
witches, having to be drowned by weights around them while in a river. If
they floated they were a witch, if they sank they were innocent. Thank
goodness for some progress.

It was through Dave, that I also discovered the incredible passion, that
the locals had for sports. Growing up in LA, I liked and followed the
Dodgers and Raiders. Yet these people's lives, breathed and existed with
how the Sox, Celtics, Bruins, or Patriots did. There's no other way to
describe it, and evidence of this love was everywhere. Apparently they
had quite a rivalry with New York and it's sports teams. While the
"Curse of the Bambino" had been rectified, these people got animated
when New York was brought up. Dave laughed when I said, "if these people
had a choice on whom to bomb in war, they'd pick New York over Tehran or
Moscow." It wasn't far from the joke, that it was supposed to be, as I
saw Yankees fans one day punched for wearing their apparel. That was
enough for me to say "I don't like New York, nor do I want to visit."

One night I was in Dave's dorm, and we were watching John Wick together.
He agreed Keanu Reeves was hot too. He had smoked some weed, and I had
been drinking a bit. As we held each other's hands on the couch, we
looked into each other's eyes. My blues and his greens became one. I
parted his blonde hair, and French kissed him with every bit of
anticipation and passion that could be mustered. Enough of this almost
platonic crap, as my primal desires had to be fed. Soon our shirts were
off. He was lighter skinned white than I was, and had beautiful pink
nipples. We kissed and I touched these, and soon was licking around them.
Dave was catatonic. Unable to move. He was beyond stimulated, and I was
finally going to make love to him, as it was well past time. As I pulled
his blue shorts off, I saw his red silky boxers and a bulge I desired to
have my hands and mouth around. Touching this bulge, there was a knock on
the door. Dammit! Dave quickly put all of his clothes back on, and my
shirt was where it was. His female friend Erika showed up unexpectedly,
begging for help with their upcoming history exam. I was so pissed off,
and despite my reluctance to be a jerk, I was polite with her and walked
out wishing them well. Dave had a look of disappointment as well, and I
went back to my dorm that night on the subway called "The T." I took my
eight inches of cock out of my pants, came all over myself, and crashed
out somewhat relieved but also irritated.

The next week Dave between his exams, and also I had a few, it was a
hectic time. Practice was becoming even more tiresome, as Coach Johnson
put us through our paces. He wanted to toughen us up, and he certainly
did. During one of our exercise drills, my friend Bjorn the big center,
ripped his ACL. He writhed in pain until paramedics arrived, and our team
was devastated, that our star center would be out for the remainder of
the season. Bjorn took it well, and all of us visited him in the
hospital. Upon observing his scar, I made a mental note, to try to avoid
this gruesome ailment. He worked with his backup Malcolm, who was still
tall at 6'10, on everything from technique to tactics. Soon Malcolm
became our rebound leader, and was a defensive force to be reckoned with.
I spent time with Bjorn learning his lessons, and we became good friends.
We still are, and although he's a lawyer, nonetheless still a nice
person and has the same easy going manner about him.

Tests were piling up, and the weather was getting colder. I started to
think my parents, didn't realize how much this would be, as the hoodies
and wool lined jeans didn't help much. Finally there was a reprieve from
the unforgiving ocean cold, and Dave and I could spend more time
together. He agreed to stay with me at my dorm this weekend, as Jason was
with his family. I know what you're thinking, and yes my plan was to
absolutely hammer away at him. To have my way. We ordered some pizzas,
watching movies and sure enough our eyes met during a romantic scene. Our
kisses started slowly, but soon our tongues were doing the tango. Our
shirts were both off again, and as I kissed him, I unbuckled his slacks.
His white mesh underwear showed me a prominent lovely big cock, that was
shaved smoothly. My hands went there, and he shuddered as my fingers
touched his sex.

Soon he was completely naked, and I got on my knees. Bringing his penis
towards my mouth, I devoured him so aggressively. Up and down my head
bobbed as I continued deep throating him. He moaned. Dave's legs buckled
as my tongue swirled around his head, and the smell of his pheromones and
Versace cologne filled my olfactory nerves. Sweat beaded on his forehead.
His green eyes opened up large and rolled upwards. He was losing it as I
slurped on his nicely shaved balls, and rimmed him with authority, of
which he had obviously never seen before. Grabbing his ass, he gently
rolled his fingers through my brown hair, which caused me to suck him
like a vacuum machine. I finally had him, and I owned him like a sailor
has control of a vessel under him.

We made out on the bed. Soon our cocks were together, and he looked
stunned. "I've never seen such a big one before." He was cautious at
first, but his lips glided up and down with his tongue. My former
dangling balls had tightened up, and seeing him go down on me was such an
intense fire on a house passion of universal matter standing it's place
in time. I gasped for air, as he really took me in, and no doubt felt my
hardness pulsating and ready to go. He smiled at me, which of course
created the same response, and I started to lubricate his ass from
behind. Damn. He had the smoothest set of buns, and I loved how his balls
hung down. I massaged them to his moans of pleasure, and fingered him to
prime the pump.

The popping sensation and his garbled scream, let me know I had hit pay
dirt. Soon my penis was in his tightly clenched hole, and I soon pounded
him like a bucking bronco. Swiveling my hips, spanking his rear and, he
was feeling my gigantic hardness in him. He was so tight, and I could
feel every bit of his insides dance with delight. His g spot swollen up,
it touched my penis with each stroke. His undulating was surreal, and
soon he rode my shaft. We kissed. Looking in each other's eyes, no
liquid elixir or other substance, could bring us to this level of high.
As our clothes looked like a war zone together on the floor, we made
passionate love for a long time. Kissing, holding hands, so many
different positions. Dave climaxed as his feet were on top of my
shoulders, and he smiled from ear to ear. He was satisfied, and soon I
felt what could only be internal cannons fuses being lit. There was a
head spinning sensation that sent signals all over me, and I howled as I
orgasmed inside of him. Oh the feeling of pleasure was all over, and we
fell into each other's arms and passed out from primal and sensual
pleasure we both had been seeking.

Dave and I officially became lovers, and that freshman year, he was
everything to me, as we both were starting our academic journeys. We were
always together, whether holding hands while walking, or mating like a
pack of wild hyenas. It was so good to finally have a lover who
understood me, and after practice, he'd regularly bring me delicious
foods to help me regain calories lost. My teammates were very accepting,
and later on I found out our starting short forward was gay too. It
seemed to be perfect, almost utopian harmony, as the first year was an
experience that was for the most part wonderful. Dave and I liked trying
new restaurants in town, and we especially loved the Portuguese part of
Boston. Here folks from that part of Europe cooked family recipes, and
for the most part, they were easy to afford. Soon the sophomore year of
this will be published, and I hope you are doing well, along with
enjoying some good cock or ass after reading this, as all of us deserve
love and great sexual passion.