Date: Wed, 23 May 2001 12:30:38 +0800
From: theguyyoumet@usa.com
Subject: "Indian Bhang"

This is the first time I've spoken up, but I've got a lot to say.  This
is only the first thing that's I've managed to write down; hopefully
there will be more.  My name is Jackson, and my friends call me Jax.
This is my life.  Normal shit about names being changed and all that.  You
can write me at theguyyoumet@usa.com

+ + +

It was already late and I probably needed to go to sleep soon--class in
the morning waited, and there was probably an essay due somewhere I
would need to write.  But I hadn't smoked up in a few hours, so I
wandered down the corridor. Most of the doors were shut tight, since at
3 or so in the morning on a Tuesday night, saner minds had already gone
to bed.

There's always a few, though.  I live in a dorm set up with multiple
suites to each floor: seven people in each suite, bathrooms and kitchen.
I had a single that I was pretty happy with, though it wasn't too big.
But even having a single as a sophomore was doing pretty well.

None of the doors in my suite were open, and the place was quiet as a
graveyard, so I headed next door.  I know the guys over there real
well--I lived with them my freshman year also.  Three Indians (not
native Americans, like people from India), actually--they'd met freshman
year also and decided to live together.  Chill guys, and sometimes up
for a random smoke.

The third door was standing wide open and I could hear the sounds of AIM
from inside.  That was Vibhakar's room--I always thought he was pretty
fucking fine, but he also had a pretty fine piece of ass named Jeena who
kept him busy.  I walked in.

"Hey man," he said, barely looking up from his computer.

"Who's that," I asked, pointing at the AIM window.

"Jeena," he said--I even recognized the screen name now.  He hit Enter
and turned around.  "So what's up?"

"What's always up?" I asked, smiling.  "Weed that needs to be smoked."
He laughed.

"I don't think I can," he said, still grinning.  "Jeena's coming over
later, and you know she'd bitch me out if I was high."  Jeena was not
exactly the stoner's friend.

"Well, at least I can understand trading weed for pussy," I said.  "Not
your normal candy-ass excuses about having work to do."

"Hey, some of us want to get into medical school."  I laughed; he'd
dropped his pre-med a while ago.  We talked for a while as he IMed with
Jeena, who I learned was working on a paper for some random class and
would be over when she was done.  We tossed a basketball back and forth
(he has a bigger room than I do, lucky fucker).  A guy from down the
hall--Dacian--stopped by (I think Vibhakar's was the only open door on
the hall), but also couldn't smoke since he was busily studying from
some math test.  I could almost feel sorry for them.  I was just
shooting the shit at three in the morning (more like four), but he still
had chapters of calculus to read.

After an hour or so, I headed back to my room, figuring I'd take a
couple quick tokes and then just pass out in bed.  No great loss since
it was already 4 and I did have to wake up at some point the next day.
I loaded up a bowl in the bong and cued up some random TV--Seinfeld, I
think, which is truly great to watch high.  Checked my email, brushed my
teeth--all that shit.

I was about half a bowl away from falling asleep in bed when someone
knocked on the door.  I wasn't too crazy tired yet, so I killed the TV
(it was on E! now, and I guess that's how my 5 AM visitor figured I was
still awake) and padded over to get it.  It had been a hot day, and I
was just wearing boxers in bed. (There are some girls on my hall, but
I've known them a while and I have no shame with them anymore.  They've
seen all there is to see.)

It was Vibhakar, looking a little sheepish to be standing outside my
door at 5 AM when I had so obviously been sleeping.

"I didn't mean to wake you up.." he began, without really trying to
finish the sentence.

"No problem," I said, sitting down in my lounge chair.  "What can I do
for you?"  I have a good tape collection, and I thought he might want to
borrow something.  Or maybe...

"Got any of that weed left?" he asked.  Vibhakar was never one to beat
around the bush, though he does do a great puppy-dog eyes impression for
someone over the age of six.

"There's always weed at my place man," I said, grabbing the bong that I
had left next to my bed. There was still, as I said, half a bowl left.
I gave it to Vib, who sat down at my desk and lit it up.

I watched the chamber fill for a few seconds, then asked the obvious:
"What happened to Jeena?"

"Stupid bitch couldn't finish her paper, said she was just going to pass
out." He didn't look happy about it.  Vib had been seeing Jeena last
year also, when he'd had a roommate, and the girl's energy was
legendary. You could hear the bedframe two rooms down.

"At least you can get a consolation prize, though," I said, fishing a
joint out of a drawer.  If we were going to smoke, we might as well do
it in style.

"True dat," he said, and took another monster hit, filling the chamber
and then sucking it through. For a second I thought he was going to be
able to hold it, but the guy's lungs just weren't up to it.  He coughed
once--it's never just once though--and then started convulsing in a fit
of coughing.

"Here," I said quickly, handing him a half-finished Gatorade from
somewhere. It was probably lukewarm, but that really didn't matter.
Whilehe gratefully alternated slugging back big gulps and coughing
half-heartedly, I cracked a Bic and torched the j.  Pleasingly fragrant
puffs of smoke began to fill the air, and I pulled hard on it.  It
tasted pretty good; the weed I'd used was stuff worth smoking.  I puffed
on it until Vib seemed mostly recovered, then handed it over.

"Thanks man," he said.  "My throat's really raw now, though--I don't
want to fuck myself up worse." He looked dubiously at the burning j.

"No worries--it was just a little coughing, and the j is a lot smoother.
Just try a little hit, see what you think."  He was still something of a
neophyte to smoking, always too cautious.  But we all have to start
somewhere.  He took my advice.  No coughing, just a nice cloud of white
smoke on the exhale.  He went again, no problems, and handed it back.

I killed a centimeter or so of it, taking the lion's share of the joint.
But then, I had a much higher tolerance...he was probably already well
on his way to being very fucked up.  There was still a good two inches
on it when I gave it back, though.

And he decimated it.  His first puff was enormous, I could see the weed
going up in smoke and getting sucked in.  He probably charred half a
centimeter in one breath, which was pretty fucking impressive on a fatty
like that.  The boy had promise.  He took a couple more hits as big as
the first, and handed it back, spewing massive clouds of white smoke
into the air--my fan just couldn't work fats enough to keep the air
clear.  The RA's in the building are all but nonexistant, though, so
there wasn't any real danger involved.

I could see his eyes roll back for a second--that awesome burst in your
head you get off a truly great hit.  He'd taken three in quick
succession, so the headrush must have been all the more massive.  Almost
makes me wish for those days when I could get such awesome rushes off a
hit.

As I toked away at a more sedate speed, he suddenly seemed to become
very interested in my room.  A few blacklight posters of the dead were
on the wall, and there was a substantial pile of bottle caps (mostly
Coors) from some night I'd never cleaned up from.  The laundry was
mostly in the closet.  A half-packed bag was next to the bed, remnant of
a trip I'd taken two weeks before. Yeah, I'm a lazy fuck.

"So how high can you get," he asked after a while.  "Like can you get as
high as you can get drunk?"

I thought for a second--I'd been smoking for a while--and then, "The'yre
not really the same...pot messes with your mind, sort of enhances
everything. Booze is much more of a gut thing."  There's probably a much
better way of expressing this, but I wasn't in top form.

"But do you lose your balance, inhibitions, vomit?" he asked.  "Like
when you're really drunk?"  I thought again--I'd never thrown up just
from smoking pot, though there had been some memorable coversations with
Ralph on the big white one after mixing way too much alcohol and pot.  I
said as much, adding that while pot can fuck with inhibitions, it
doesn't really affect balance so much.

"...It's a different drug," I finished.

"Yeah," he agreed with vacant look, the particular vacant look of the
very baked.  It hadn't taken much--I really was almost jealous.  I
offered him the j again, though, and he waved it off.  I tried again and
he took it, drew in a nice big hit.  Not much left, but it had been a
joint put to good use.  I was feeling nicely fucked up, and he was
obviously way beyond fucked up.

I smoked a little more and then killed it, putting the roach in a bag
for later.  He was still lolling absently in the chair, slouched so low
it looked like he was going to fall off.  I remoted the stereo to life
and put on some Marley.

"Man I needed that," he said after several songs.

"It's what I'm always telling you," I agreed.  "Just smoke more and your
life will be better in every way."

"Jeena hates the stuff, though," he said.  "And e and shrooms--forget
it, she won't touch them. Very clean cut about drugs, it sucks."

"Whatever--not everyone has seen the light yet.  Maybe she'll figure it
out sometime."  He looked dubious.  "Or maybe you can just slip some
rufies into her beer next time you're out."

"Getting laid isn't the problem," he said.  "I just want some high."  he
looked so sincere about it I could almost have laughed.

"Poor baby," I said, picking up what was left of the Gatorade and taking
a swig.  "Most of us actually have to work a little to get some, andhere
you are whining about how you don't get to do it in altered states."

"Well isn't it fucking amazing?  Especially on e--I've heard that's like
a whole different experience."

"It is," I agreed, not adding that my experiences on e were limited to
the male gender.  Vib didn't know this.  "I can't really describe it,
but you do have to try it sometime."

"Hell I'd even settle if she'd get high with me sometime."  He really
was getting whiny--some people do that high, but I didn't want to deal
with it at the moment.

"I'm sure you'll figure something out."  He didn't look so sure.

"It's always like tonight--who works on a paper until five in the
morning?"  I felt like smacking him, because half the time *he* was
working on a paper till five in the morning and bitching about it.
Workaholics.

But at least he was a vain one--he was fucking hot, I thought again now,
trying hard to make sure I didn't pop a woody that would be instantly
visible in my boxers.  He went to the gym every day and made a point of
working that fact into conversations whenever he could.  He had really
dark skin, even for an Indian, the color of brown sugar.  But very
Caucasian features, aquiline nose, thin lips, but with a hint of almond
to his eyes.  Always sporting a short stubble, fubu clothes (he was
wearing a yellow fubu shirt right then), visors--he looked seriously
shady, and that I think made him even hotter.

That magical sense so many people have called gaydar was going off with
bells here, but I was high and I knew he at least had one fuck of a fine
woman somewhere, so I was wary.  He came across as somewhat homophobic,
but I'd seen that before in a lot of gays in denial.  Or just in the
closet, even if not in denial.

"So how you doing," I asked, shifting my legs on the chair so that he'd
have an unobstructed view inside.  His eyes flickered to the movement,
then back up to my eyes.  Had he hesitated a second too long?  My
imagination?  Wishful thinking?  In the background, Marley was singing
"Buffalo Soldier."

"I'm pretty fucking high," he said, grinning.  "I've got so much energy
I could run to Newark."

"I wouldn't try it," I said.  "You might get to Jersey, but you'd end up
passing out without more weed to get you there."

"Yeah," he said, and his hand snaked to his shorts, adjusted himself.  I
followed his hand with my eyes, watched him.  I was almost sure now--
how could it have taken me this long to figure it out? He watched me
watching him, it was all out in the open if we wanted it.  For a second
I thought he was going to say something cheesy like "Like what you see?"
but thankfully he didn't.  I was getting hard already though, and he
could see it.  Literally.

"When did you know?" I asked finally.  This was it:  he could construe
that however he wanted, but we both knew what I was asking.

"A long time ago, man.  Ancient history."  He looked a little nervous,
which didn't fit the whole shady image, but I liked it.

"Jeena?" I asked.

"A really good lay," he said, and nothing else.  I didn't quite know how
to take that, but I figured it wasn't too important.  I wasn't looking
for the Meaning of Life, after all.

He stood up, and for a second I thought he was too scared, he was going
to leave.  But he didn't. He glanced at my door for a
second--closed--and then just stood there.  I waited in silence.

Finally, he reached down and pulled off his shirt.  For all his work at
the gym, he wouldn't we winning any bodybuilding contests anytime soon,
but he had definition most people can only dream of.  Six clear abs,
taut brown skin stretched over tight pecs with wide dark nipples.  Kind
hairy, but not too much.  Mostly just that happy trail sliding down
under the waistband of his shorts, but his pecs and arms were lightly
dusted.  He swallowed, a little too hard, and I blinked.

"All that lifting really pays off," I commented, knowing it was what he
wanted to hear.  Like I said, I'm a lazy bastard:  I look fine, but I'm
lucky if I have good definition on four abs.

He flexed for me, first bicep then tricep--the latter was really
impressive, because I know from personal experience it's a pain in the
ass to really bulk up your triceps.  He'd put on a massive amount of
weight there, so you could see the muscle stretched tautly under the
skin of his arm.  I was fully hard--had been for a while.

"So what do you think about inhibitions," he asked, not moving.  "Think
pot lowers people's inhibitions?"

"No question about it," I said, and slipped by boxers down to my knees.
My cock at full attention had been chafing.  But he still didn't move.
Jesus.

"Suck my fucking cock, man, I don't want to have to get up and bring it
over to you."  He still didn't move.  "What do you want, a teleprompter?
Come on!" Finally he moved, taking the few steps over to my lounge chair
and standing uncertainly in front of me.  I reached out and grabbed the
front of his shorts, pulled on them.  They were already pretty tented,
but he got the idea.  He knelt down in front of me.

"V, why didn't we figure this out sooner?" I muttered as his lips
hoevered over the throbbing head of my already wet cock.  His head came
up, "What?" already forming on his lips.  I put bot hands on his head
and pushed him back down.

"Let me do the talking for now, man," I huffed, feeling the unholy
warmth of his lips on my shaft, tongue stroking me harshly.  I moved my
hands down to his thick shoulders, gripped him tightly, feeling the
corded delts under my hands. He wasn't taller than 5'11, but man had he
filled out his frame!  His body was just incredible now that I could
slide my hands over it in detail.  Vanity has a few perks, I guess.  Too
bad his blowjob skills didn't match, but I was beginning to get the
feeling that he didn't walk on the wild side too often. And he was mad
high.  Damn but Jeena was missing out on something that night.

He bobbed on me with the enthusiasm and skill of a kindergartener.  Wet
tongue slobbering on me roughly, without direction.  But I'd spent two
years watching this guy's awesome body without getting a taste of it and
for that alone i was already panting by the time he started grabbing my
sides.  I just let one hand hold his shoulder and the other pressed his
gelled hair and head down on me.

"You know, you're pretty fucking shady," I managed to get out after I'd
caught my breath for a second.  This is a guy who can listen to The Real
Slim Shady for days straight and still think Eminem is the most gifted
guy on earth.  It's what he wanted to hear.

At first I hadn't been moving much, but I'd been waiting way too long
for this to go quietly for too long.  By now I was bucking my hips in
time with his long wet strokes of the tongue, pushing his nose down into
my mess of black pubes each time, one hand flattening his normally
meticulously gelled hair as I held him on my throbbing cock.

"Goddamn but you like white cock don't you!" I gasped as his tongue
finally ringed me under the head.  "How often do you go down?" I
laughed, but I didn't want an answer, so I just kept my hand on his
head, guiding him.  My crotch was damp with with precum and saliva--he
was definitely a slobberer, my pubes were matted down in places.  The
bitch probably didn't go down very often.

I felt myself tensing now--I could have waited longer, but this wasn't
exactly the blowjob of the century, and I'd been waiting long enough for
this to happen.  He probably felt it too, since he began to move back
off me, but I pushed his head back down, saying "No man--take it all.
Take it all." trailing away as I felt myswelf go harder than metal, that
curiouslyt warm sensation of jizm spurting through your innards and
rocketing into his mouth. I could feel him flinching as it spattered in
to his mouth, down his throat. Had he ever swallowed before?  Finally
after six or seven good spasms, I was spent and fell back in the chair,
letting my hands slip off his head and lightly onto his arms.  My dick
was still hard, and he lifted his head off of it carefully.  At least he
didn't spit, just swallowed nervously and grimaced.

"First time swallowing?" I asked.  He only nodded with a sort of sick
look on his face.  "Don't worry--it's not bad for you or anything."

"You're a sick fucker," he said suddenly.  "Who the hell makes someone
swallow?"

"You could've spit it out," I said.  "Doesn't Jeena swallow for you?"

"Never, man, never.  She thinks it's nasty...I've tried convincing her,
but..." He trailed off. He'd swallowed before his girlfriend
had--there's a sort of funny thing.

"Well stop bitching about it then.  It's not like I forced you to do
anything." He looked as though he was about to argue, but I think we
were both too high to worry too much about this shit.

"How often do you...I mean, Jax, I wouldn't have ever known--I--"  He
was really at a loss for words, incoherent.  Probably the pot at work.
Or maybe just the stress of the situation.

"I usually play both sides of the field--I'm sure you can empathize with
that," I observed, faintly sneering.  "Are you fucking her because you
like it or because you think you should?"

"I dunno"--at this he fell backwards onto the floor, arms akimbo.
"Probably some of both.  I got to get married some day and all--my
parents would kill me, really kill me..."

"Yeah, I know the terrible story.  Still, it means you get twice the
play, and I figure that's good in anyone's book."

"Yeah," he agreed listlessly.  He was so fucking high.  There was a long
pause as Bob Marley sang on in the background.  Jammin' had passed a
while back, but here it was again (the disk was on repeat?).

"So i know the last time you got pussy was last night..." I said,
knowing because the people on both side of Vibhakar's room knew every
time he was fucking, and that meant the whole corridor knew.  Besides,
it was a schedule: almost every weekday night, like 1 AM.  You could set
your clock to it almost.

He didn't respond.  "...but does that really do it for you?  I mean,
obviously not tonight."  I grinned, staring pointedly at my still
hard-cock, glistening in the fluorescent light.

"Did you come over here for something more than pot, V?  5 AM is late
even for me, on a Tuesday night."

"No, I just wanted to get high and fall asleep," he protested.  "I just
found out she wasn't coming...like 4 or 4:30 or something."

"And you just jerked off for half an hour?" I asked.  "Even if it was
4:30?"

"I was just fucking around on the web, whatever man.  Lay off."  I did,
and realized I'd been a real fucker for the last few minutes.  Way too
serious.

"So when was the last time you had a good fucking?" I finally said,
changing topics.  I tried to make it sound funny, though.  He looked
startled, as though the idea had never occurred to him. Internal sigh.

"I don't go in for that," he said carefully, suddenly seeming a lot less
high. What a bad trip, you know?

"No way," I said, half joking still.  No pressure.  "You're only into
this half-assed?"  I know, it's a terrible pun.  I was high.

That at least brought a grin (grimace?) to his face, and he shook his
head.  He looked a little disgusted by the entire thing.  LIke I said, a
serious downer. The only thing that saved the situation at all was that,
spreadeagkled as he was on the floor, I could see the muscles stretched
tight across his chest, and that by itself was enough to keep me hard.

"Look, I have a regular girlfriend...I'm just..." He didn't really know
what to say there, I guess, and so he just trailed off.  I hadn't signed
up for a Identity Reaffirmation Session, but sometimes things just fall
into your lap.

"Face it: at the very least you're bi.  You're a sexual deviant.  Man,
you be fuck-ed up in the head!"  The verbal equivalent of a smack across
the face.

He flinched.  Bitch!  It was five in the morning (more like five thirty
now) and here this guy was weeping about his gender affiliation issues.
if he wanted to go to some support group, great, but Sean's Room at Five
Thirty in the Morning was not the time or place.  he always projected
such a macho image--obviously a contrived image--and i was suprised and
kinda pissed off to see what a pussy he was being.  But it's not really
his fault, the weed was probably destroying him (he was back to his
brash self by the next morning, actually).

I couldn't take it any more.  "Listen, it's five thirty in the morning,
and if you want to lie on the floor and moan then you can do that in
your own goddamn room while the rest of us sleep.  If you want to grow
up, of course, you can stay right here."  Even I am not normally this
tactless, but I'm just not too polite at 5:30.  Call me crazy.

He didn't move.  "What's it gonna be, V?  Vib?  In or out?  Will you
stay or will you go?"  I sang that last part.  My voice sucks, so it was
no great production.  I stood up, semi-erect cock jiggling as I wriggled
out of the lounge chair.  The boxers ringed around my knees were a
little irritating, and I shrugged them off and kicked them against the
wall.

"What you say, Veee...bee?"  Nothing.  I stood over him, his eyes
rapidly moving up and down my body, around the room.

"Jesus christ, Jax," he said finally.  "Are you this crazy with
everyone?"  Was that a hungry look in his eyes finally?

"Only when I see such a fine piece of meat," I said, visciously impish
smile on my lips.

He raised his head a little, looked down his own chest.  "Yeah it is,
isn't it?"  That was the Vibhakar I knew and loved.  I knelt between his
legs, watched his eyes.  Dilated, expectant.  Sweat beaded slightly on
his brow, trickled down the side of the face.  He made no move to brush
it away.

Swiftly, I dipped down, bringing my face over his, brushing his partly
open lips with mine. Snaking my hand down between our now-touching
bodies, I snagged the waistband of his baggy sports shorts and tugged
them down as far as I could reach.  The light fabric stretched and then
finally gave, bunching down around his thighs.

I shifted my face again on his--his tongue hungrily following ym mouth
as I slipped across his cheek.  I returned it quickly, and my hand
slipped down again, feeling across the massive outline of his hot
erection thru the sheer fabric of his boxers--silk.  He gasped as I
touched him, squeezed him gently.

"Mmmm...do all indians have such big cocks, V...or are you just
special?" I murmured stuporously.

"Only as much as all whiteboys have such mad skills," he answered,
laughing in a whisper.

"What mad skills are those?" I asked innocently.

"The ones you're about to show off, loser," he answered.  This was more
like it.  He just needed a little warming up.  I slipped my hand back up
and then down under the band of his boxers, feeling the moist heat of
his sex in there: huge and rock hard, pressing into my hand and my thigh
where I was leaning over him.  The scratch of his wiry pubes as I ran
fingers around the base of his shaft, feeling the veins standing out
engorged with blood, pulsating with anticipation.

I began to stroke him gently, sliding my spit and cum lubricated hand up
and down the underside of his cock slowly...tweaking the edge of his
retracted foreskin as it passed.

"Didn't they tell your parents it was safer to be cut?" I asked, playing
with the skin between two fingers.

"I don't like playing it safe," he gasped between short breaths and our
brushing lips.  "Besides, I was born in India."

"Foreign devil," I laughed, and broke contact with his lips, raising
myself back to kneeling, though leaving my hand under the rim of his
boxers, squeezing him harshly.

"OK man...last call.  Let go or hold on?"  I clenched my fist around his
cock to make the point. He closed his eyes for a second and when he
reopened them, he was staring at me with those big milky brown eyes that
made me want to fuck anything that moves.  Nodded...just a little.

I pulled down his boxers too, bunching them in the gnarled mess of his
shorts. He really was a big boy--he had me beat, anyway.  Seven and a
half inches--or so he claims.  That's probably about right.  Thick too,
the color of molasses, veiny with a deep purple tint to the head,
glistening with a sheen of precum now.

He sat up a little--you could see his abs straining slightly as he
raised himself.  Only Vibhakar could manage to work a situp into the
situation. Reaching down, he stripped off his boxers and shorts,
spending a few too many seconds working them around his massive bball
shoes, but then they were off.

"I'm no foreign devil, I'm a fully naturalized American citizen.  Don't
worry about patriotism." He grinned; I'm no all-American boy either,
just brown hair and eyes for me.  Nothing exotic--but then V probably
was exotic enough for both of us.

"Take the oath of loyalty?" I asked evilly, pumping his meat with every
word. It seemed somehow nasty.

"Yep," he said, propping himself up with his hand and leaning back.  "Oh
yeah...yeah I said those words."

"Never to render aid to our enemies?" I asked, still pumping his
throbbign cock, which was spilling off heat like a Chernobyl disaster
waiting to happen. My other hand had been squeezing his balls gently,
but now it slipped down and I let my middle finger fall at the puckered
rim of his hole.

"Never," he wheezed, and I thrust it in all at once.  He made a sort of
strange muffled moaning sound, a cross between a whimper and a groan
maybe, a it first slid all the way, feeling the slick, damp walls of his
hole.

"And to always put America first?" I slipped the finger out, waiting.

"God yeah man." he said, so husky it was hard to understand him.  I
pumped my middle finger in and out of him a few times, earning a forced
gasped each time I jammed it back in.  I was pumping his cock slowly, I
didn't want him to cum yet, just to feel like he was about to.

"So you still want to see those mad skills?" I asked, playing with a
second finger at his hole.  He was so tight I didn't think he'd even
take more of that.  I was feeling like a very, very lucky bastard.

"Give it to me," he said, and I jammed not one but three fingers into
him. I saw him grit his teeth as I pushed past his straining sphincter,
knowing he'd never cry out or anything.  He wasn't that kind of guy.  I
pumped them in and out a few times, slowly as I could, giving him some
time to adjust.  He still looked to be in pain, but there wasn't much I
could do about that.  I hoped the pot would dull it at least a little.

I was still trying to loosen him up when he looked up at me through
half-lidded eyes and said, "Not like THAT man...fuck me like you wanna
fuck your mommy." This was the Vib I knew was under all that (OK, I'd
cheated and overheard him and Jeena enough to know he was no slouch in
bed).

"Bitch, I'll fuck your momma," I said.  "She'd probably have a wetter
hole anyway."  I let his cock stand by itself as I reached down to guide
my cockhead against his puckered hole.

"No white guy is ever gonna fuck my mom," he said, glint in eye.

"And her son?" I asked, poised and ready, feeling the tight skin of his
asshole against the sensitive tip of my cock.

"I got lower standards," he replied, smiling broadly still.

"Isn't that what your mom used for her vows?"  And then as if between us
we knew the time for that was done.

"Jax..." And he paused.  "You know what you want...you've wanted this
since you first saw me.  And now that I know you a little better...I
know you take what you want."  He raised his legs, and I grabbed them,
pushing them up rudely to my shoulders.

I pushed the head of my cock into the mouth of his hole, and I could
feel the wet tightness, could feel his sphincter tightening, could even
feel the shiver of anctipation and maybe pain that shot through his
body.

"Ever fantasize about this?" I whispered, pushing slowly down on him.

"Remember the time you beat the fuck out of Raph's friend?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said, remembering.  Just a random fight in the hall, we were
drunk. No particular reason, just to get our juices pumping.

"And then I beat the shit out of you?" he asked, grinning.  He had, but
right now I didn't really care.  I just remembered his hot bare skin
against me, pressing me against the floor; hands slick with sweat
holding my head back, his face hovering just a few inches from mine.

"You were fucking hot man," I growled, and thrust in harshly, feeling
the exquisite tightness of his hole so well.

"That night I was fucking Jeena, but the whole time it was you man...you
and me on that floor."  He paused, gulped.  "That was when I started
hoping."  The thought of our sweaty half naked bodies entangled that
first time had already gotten me massively horny and I starting fucking
him fast and hard.  You could see the combined pain and pleasure in his
eyes, but he didn't show otherwise.

"What about you?" he asked in between thrusts, voice breathless and
quick.

"I always wanted to fuck an Indian," I said, panting already (yeah, I
smoke too much), "and you're the finest one I know."  I paused and
pulled slowly out of him with a highly audible sucking sound. "Who do
you think I was pulling the pud to?"

"Your momma," he said, and laughed, wheezy.

His cock hadn't gone down any since I last was jacking it...it has just
stood there wet in the air, wobbling to and fro each time my cock
pounded into his ass...now I reached down and began fingering the skin
that was still pulled down around his cockhead.

"Dirty man," I said as started jacking it again, hard now.  His ass was
so tight I knew I wasn't gonna last long in it, even after blowing a wad
in his mouth just a few minutes ago.  Besides, I'd been waiting a year
to get this guy's ass.  Even from the first time I'd seen him walking
down the hall in one of his sleeveless t's, I knew I wanted to drink him
down.  It had only taken this long--but I wasn't gonna wait much longer.

"You're a bad man," I repeated--"I know what you came in here to get," I
said again, jacking him and pounding him in time...he was writhing under
me now, not even bothering to try to speak.  Sweat was pouring from his
chest, leaving a slick covering over his flat pecs...dripping down onto
his hard stomach, soacking the hair on his chest into a thin matting.

I was sweating myself....my pubes werent even scratching his ass any
more; they were just a wet clump of hair grinding against his hairy assd
each time I rammed into him.  THe floor under us would probably be
soaked.  A small price to pay.

He was gritting his teeth...he probably couldnt feel anything but sheer
pleasure at this point, but he'd been clenching them to hard and so long
he wasn't likely to let up anytime soon.  I felt the spasm inside me of
the cum, and thrust myself into him as hard i could, bending over and
burying my face in his soaked chest as my cock spurted into him.

His back arched and a soundless groan leapt out of him as he felt the
first wave go into him, hot and warm so strangely liquid deep inside of
him...I couldn't see anything more than the dark wet hairs of his pecs
and the huge dark nipple that I bit tightly on as I released into him,
bucking my hips to pound my cock as wave after wave of my seed coursed
into his stretched hole, already beginning to leak cum from the slick
feeling in my pubes, still pressed against his puckered ass.

My hand was a blur on his cock as I poured into him, as he groaned from
my cock reaming out his ass and my teeth on his nipple--had Jeena ever
done that for him?  It was pressed between us now, and when finally I
felt it stiffen like metal in my hand and the course of his own jism
thru it for a moment as I jerked him one last time--

And then he erupted between us.  I felt a wet spatter against my chin,
my neck, my heaving bare chest pressed against his.  Milky cum mixed
with the sweat trapped between us, crushed together by the grinding of
our bodies--even as we groaned as one, grunting like animals rutting on
the floor of the dorm room.

And then finally I had spent myself, and he had spurted every drop of
cum he had in him...enough to spatter our chests and cake the hairs
there together.  I lifted my head from hiswet nipple...felt my softening
cock sliding from his hole.

Cum had dripped onto the floor already...I could smell the sweet fresh
scent of sex in the room from two young studs who had emptied their
sperm into the air...matted in our pubes, coating our chests, sticking
to the floor.  It was even on his lips as I lifted my head to look at
him again.

His milky brown eyes were open again, soft and not even tired yet.

"Good?" I asked.

He didn't answer for a second.

"Does this make me bi?" he asked.  "I really haven't done anything like
this before."  Maybe the lust was finally beginning to fade and he could
think straight again.

"Figure it out later, man..." I whispered into his ear.  "There's still
a few hours till sunrise." I turned to look back at his smooth beautiful
face...the one that had tempted me for so long.

He was smiling.