Date: Sat, 9 Aug 2003 11:47:20 EDT
From: MickeySkee@aol.com
Subject: My Burgeoning Exhibitionism

    Everywhere I look I get horny. Every step I take makes me hard. Every
corner I turn puts me smack into a stunningly gorgeous guy, often a well-built
jock. I'd bump into him, apologize, scurry off somewhere private and jack off
thinking about him.
    How will I possibly make it through school? It's almost a month before
school starts, it's a few days before I turn 18, and already before I enter my
first class, I'm distracted constantly -- by dick.
    It's not just my own dick, although that's a distraction, too. It's
everyone else's dick on campus. OK, maybe I'm looking for it more, but
geez, the guys around here seem to be waving their around everywhere.
    I knew that going off to school would allow me to be a bit more free and
open, but I could never guess it would be like this. It's a perfect place to
be a writer, because this is a place that inspires fantasy.
    But not all of it is fantasy. Some of it is real. And some of those
fantasies occur at the Library of Information on Carnal Knowledge, or LICK
Building, which also houses the Male Museum. Between the floors are sort of
half-floors, called Stacks. I've perused some of those Stacks, for
important reading information of course, and I have seen a lot going on there.
    One particular hunk fascinates me. He's blond with a muscular body and
perfect red lips with a welcoming smile. He always sits near the Exit door on
the 3 1/2 floor in the Stacks. He's shy, too.
    I watch him sit and read and sometimes his hand slips down to his cut-off
shorts and he slowly rubs his bulge. I keep pretending like I'm reading, but
it's unmistakable that he's jacking off at his seat. Then, he quietly slips
away through the Exit door.
    I've followed him a few times to see if he's cleaning off in the
bathroom, but no, he heads out of the building and back to his dorm,
leaving me to fantasize about him.
    Once, while I walked through the stacks, I leaned over to look for a book
on Descriptions of the Phallus of the 17th Century when I saw a big long dark
cock poking through the shelf at me face.
    "Suck it, man," the guy said from the other side.
    I stood up and could see two hungry brown eyes stare at me through the
stacks, and his disembodied cockhead stuck out between the rows of
shelves. This had to be a big man to make his cock poke through that row of
books. I looked around and all I could see was my blond dream man, sitting
at the end of the row.
    I got down on my knees and quietly put my lips on the cock head. It
tasted rubbery and smelled oily. I felt him thrust his hips between the stacks,
sending a book or two down on the floor.
    I looked over and saw the blond guy watching. Our eyes locked for a
moment as he saw me chewing lightly on the black cock. I could see his hand
reach for his crotch as I tickled the underside of the chocolate staff with
my tongue, causing the guy to send a few more books clanging to the floor.
    The blond caught me staring at his bulge, slapped his book closed and
scooted out the Exit door. I bit hard, a bit too hard, causing the guy to pull
out and scatter out of the Stacks with a curse and I was left alone on my knees
with a bunch of books on the floor around me and a stiff cock.
    I went to the bathroom and went into a stall, but none of the stalls on
campus had doors. I was very pee shy, and could never stand at a urinal because
they were these long porcelain troughs and everyone stood next to each other
and peed in front of each other, and everyone always seemed to check each
other out while standing there whizzing. I often had a hard-on during those
times, making it even worse to try to squeeze some pee out.
    Anyway, this time it wasn't pee I was trying to squeeze out, but as soon
as my pants were around my legs, two guys came in.
    One of them with sandy hair, had a sharp sloping nose and perfect
cheekbones. He stood at the urinal trough and pulled out a long pencil thin
cock.
    The other guy, a brown-haired curly-headed guy with bushy eyebrows and a
stocky, well-built body, sidled up alongside the pencil-cocked guy and
mid-stream through the guy pissing, he reached over and grabbed the long
thin cock.
    "Hey man, what the fuck?" said the sandy-haired guy.
    The brunet didn't let go, and the pisser didn't complain. He let the
stranger's hand feel his shaft expel the urine, then he let the hand shake him
off. Then, without a word, the brunet sat the sandy-haired guy's ass on the
edge of the trough and he popped the long cock in his mouth and gave it a nice
glistening spit bath.
    I was too stunned to jack off or anything. These guys were having the
greatest blow job just a few feet away from me. I was also too shocked to
notice that others had gathered in the bathroom and suddenly, the toilet
paper role popped off in my stall and a big white cock stuck through a hole.
    I had heard of glory holes, and now I saw one first. Being the second
cock-without-a-body attached that I had seen that day, it was less surprising,
and I didn't need to be told what to do. I chowed down on it, all the time
watching the guys at the urinal.
    The cock I commandiered was thick and veiny. His tiny mushroom head
almost seemed too small for the knobby wide shaft that it was attached to,
but it made a nice little puckering sound as it popped in and out of my
mouth. I slid my tongue along the veins underneath and around the shaft,
tracing it to as much of the hairy root that poked through the hole in the
stall as I could.
    The cock pulled away. I wanted to see what was attached to this veiny
cock. All I could see was a dark hole.
    "Fuck it, man, he wants you to fuck it."
    The brunet was now trading places and being sucked by the sandy-haired
guy, and the brunet was now getting off watching me in the stall. I knew from
their vantage point they could see both of us, and could see this handsome ass
that was now being offered to me through the hole.
    "He doesn't want your phone number, guy, he just wants your dick up his
ass," said the sandy-haired guy rather forcefully. He obviously knew I was new
to this.
    From underneath the stall, a thick muscular hand reached out and offered
a blue condom unsheathed from the packet. I fumbled a bit as I unrolled it on
my ever-throbbing pud and then I leaned down and shoved it into the hole.
    It felt slick and smooth as my cock was enveloped by a soft warm entry. I
didn't have to move, the ass at the other end knew how to work my pole,
squeezing it up and down the shaft, wriggling it out until just my cockhead was
inside him and then backing the butt all the way into my stiffy.
    "Beautiful, guys," said the throaty brunet, who looked like he was close
to cumming. He pulled his shirt up showing his rippling stomach muscles and he
pinched his well-developed tit muscles. "That's great fucking going on there."
    "Hey guys, you know who's outside in the Stacks almost every day?" said
the sandy-haired stud, taking a break from the appendage he was licking. "That
swimmer guy, who broke all the records, that dreamy stud Shane Coley sits in
the same chair out there stroking his beautiful meat every single day. Right
there in the next room."
    Hey, that's my dreamy guy! I continued pounding, but fiercely now. I was
mad that not only did someone else know about my secret blond stud's wanking
place, but they also knew more about him. They knew his name! Shane Coley. I
cringed at the thought that one of these gorgeous guys, maybe even the guy I'm
fucking, has been with my dream swimmer.
    "Shut up and suck me, Johnny, you know that guy's notoriously hetero.
Guys have tried to bed him for two years."
    The brunet shoved his cock all the way into the sandy-haired guy's
throat, making him gag. My rhythm got more violent, too, thinking of Shane Coley.
    "I think we should all go out there and do this stuff in front of him and
then bend his pretty round ass over and fuck his cute cocky smile off his
face," said the angry brunet. The blond pulled his head back and knocked it on
the side of the urinal with a clang as the brunet spewed jism all over the side
of his face.
    "Ow Jason, that really hurt. I can't take that nine inches like that, you
know that."
    These guys weren't strangers after all. This must've been a planned
liaison, I figured. I looked forward to meeting my well-trained bottom boy on the
other side of the stall. I could feel him orgasm as his butt cheeks squeeze
around my cock in tight spasms. It caused me to shoot into my slick rubbery
sheath.
    I leaned back and felt the blue sticky sheath pulled off my still
spazzing cock and then I heard the door close. I sat down on the toilet seat and
looked around. The guys at the urinal were gone.
    "Gosh, they left in a hurry," I said to my stall fuck.
    I looked under the stall. No feet.
    Without pulling up my pants, my dick still recuperating, I leaned out and
looked in and saw no one there, my cum-filled condom gone. I sat down again
and caught my breath. Oh well.

    This campus had too many distractions. In the gym, everyone worked out in
the nude. I just went to watch, these guys tackling, running, heaving,
pumping together. The wrestling was particularly erotic because the guys grabbed at
each other's loose testicles and squeezed them until someone yelled "Uncle" to
see who was the winner.
    In the Sculpture, Portrait, And Religious Tableaus, Artifacts & Crafts
Undergraduate Studies, or SPARTACUS Building, naked men would pose as models
while horny students would paint or sculpt them. That was a building where all
the nude Rodins, Reubens, Venuses, Cupids and Prometheuses of the various
classic artists were studied, where DaVinci's male sketches were housed, and where
notes of Jules Verne's early theories of penis ejaculation were preserved. I
always found a way of walking by this building, watching the naked youths pose
outside with their long floppy cocks as they were being sketched. I was amazed
how free and simple it all seemed to them. I envied their freedom. I couldn't
imagine being a student there. How could you possibly avoid jacking off every
class? Maybe you don't. How could you avoid popping a boner every class? Maybe
you do.
    I kept thinking I should sign up for more art.
    One time while watching the nude track team run with their floppy cocks
around the track, I saw a bunch of guys running over to the fence around the
pool.
    "It's Shane!" said one guy whizzing past me.
    "Shit, he's swimming naked," said another.
    A girl on campus sped by, squealing, "Shane Coley in the flesh! It's the
first time!"
    I sauntered over as if I didn't care. I was getting more aware that I
wasn't the only one on campus lusting after this swimmer. But I felt a bit
possessive because I felt like I discovered him first, seeing him feel
himself off in the Stacks.
    I found an empty spot at the fence around the pool and almost fainted
dead away. I felt like a schoolgirl, as silly as the dozen or so others
gaping at the fence.
    Standing with a wet body glistening in the sun was the sunny-haired Shane
Coley at the edge of the pool, totally naked. No artist could draw a more
perfect picture, no fantasy of Michelangelo's could have dreamed up a
better male specimen. He stood erect, the line of bones across his neck
stretched straight across his body, anchored by two thick, but not
overly-muscular shoulders.
His eyes were sparkling blue, almost turquoise, his eyebrows neat and eyelashes
almost girlie in their long length. His ears stuck out a bit big, but cute,
he had a square chin with always a faint peach fuzz forming.
    His legs were thick, muscular and covered with a fine layer of curly
blond hairs. His arms were long, and hung past his hips, his chest rippled with
the waves of evenly-spaced muscles and his pecs were firm and tight.
    His ass was white and moundy, fleshy and yet tight. His tan snaked around
a tight small area, showing that he stayed out in the sun with his Speedos
on, but rarely ever naked. But it was his cock that most of us came to see.
    He barely had any hair on his body. His chest had only a few wisps of
blond strands around the nipples, and then a few darker hairs around his belly
button that got bushier as they led to a light patch of hair around his crotch.
    He stood with a half hard-on, and seemed to ignore the stares he was
getting from all around. His cock was long and even, as thick around at the base
as it was around the head. It looked as if three hands could fit around that
piece of meat, end over end, and still not cover the beautifully perfect
mushroom head that capped the dick so nicely.
    "Gosh, and he isn't even fully hard," said the girl next to me.
    "What a guy, look at those nice firm balls," said a guy next to her.
"This is going to give me jerk-off material for weeks."
    Some laughter erupted where I stood at the fence and I looked down to see
that Shane Coley was looking up, directly at me. I gulped. I waved.
    He shot a smile at me, and I could swear that his semi-hard cock twitched
before he dove into the pool and started his laps. I stayed to watch a while
until the audience dispersed, but it was obvious it would be awhile before
Shane Coley would get out and dry himself off, and offer his fans another
peek at some fantasy material.

    I got really good at crotch watching. No one was as good, however, as
Victor Nichols, a guy in my Peno-Biology class. For him it was an art form.
    "I can guess a cock size limp to within an eighth-of-an-inch and without
fail, and I can usually predict ball size and full erections to within a
centimeter," explained Victor. "Even guys with loose pants have tell-tale signs.
Look at how he hangs left. Look how that guy has balls that bunch forward in his
jockeys. See that guy with the cockring, he's a grower, not a shower."
    At first I thought Victor was too full of himself, but then he told me my
measurements almost exactly even though we'd never been naked together.
    "You've got nice hanging balls, too, Mickey, you shouldn't be afraid to
show yourself off more," he said.
    I was a bit embarrassed because I had hardly been naked at all on campus
except for my quicky in the bathroom, but that made me determined to have
Victor as a Lab partner and learn some more. His talents became more obvious to me
as we had occasion to test his expertise.
    In the Bio Building, certain lab classes had a Speci-Men program where
guys (mostly students on scholarship who needed a few extra bucks), would come
in and essentially be lab rats for us. That may require us measuring their
loads of semen, observing their orgasms, testing their hard-ons and other personal
studies.
    Inevitably, Victor could size up any one of the Speci-Men lab rats even
before they took their robes off and he could predict their size soft and then
hard. He was even getting good at estimating semen quantity, too.
    One of the Speci-Men favorites was an olive-skinned Italian stallion
named Vincent. His cock measured a perfect seven inches along the top, from base
to piss slit, and we got to touch it, ever so delicately, and measure it a few
times.
    It was the first time I touched a guy so clinically, and Vincent seemed
to pay no attention as I moved his hard-on like it was a dead frog or
something. My lab partner Victor grabbed it by the base and gave it a little squeeze
before taking all the measurements for our project.
    "If you need any money ever, this is a great way to earn a few bucks,"
Victor said about the Speci-Men project.
    "Are you crazy," I said, as I held a cum jar up to the handsome Vincent
and squeezed some semen out of him for our Cum Load vs. Ball Size report. "I'd
be too embarrassed to have all these strange hands all over my body."
    "Hey, not only that, you get paid for it, and it's easier than doing
porn," Victor smiled. "And maybe you'd be lucky and get to be naked with swimmer
Shane if he ever signed up for the program."
    For the first time Vincent the Speci-Men paid attention to our
conversation. Shane Coley even made a supposed straight guy like Vincent stand up and
take notice.

    A month or so later, while we worked on a study comparing finger size to
cock length, Victor had worked on opening me up even more. He went out and
helped me buy a vintage '65 red Mustang convertible and I got a license plate
that said "RED WRTR." It had a multi-level meaning. Not only was I a writer, and
when I wrote in red ink in my diary, it was erotic nasty writing (which is
what I wrote mostly), but Victor said it also stood for "Real Eager Dick With
Radical Testicle Reach."
    Victor couldn't convince me to be as open as becoming a Speci-Men, but he
was slowly convincing me to go to the Zyo-Sperm Cryo-lab off campus where
this dreamy Dr. Malin collected samples from horny guys. They advertised a lot in
the school paper, but I knew I'd have a hard time not masturbating for a few
days before I had to provide my sample, so I held off doing that right away.
    Victor also said I'd lose my inhibitions if I got on the waiting list to
get into Naked Dorm on the north end of campus. That's a building where
everyone walks around naked pretty much all the time. I've skulked past Naked Dorm
and watched guys play Frisbee out front without a stitch of clothing on and saw
nubile bodies sun themselves freely without a care in the world.
    I jacked off behind trees near the Naked Dorm imagining I was part of
that select open crowd. I could never do it, though. How embarrassing.
    Despite all the cock we could see around campus for free, there were
plenty of shy, voyeuristic types like me who lingered around and went home alone
to masturbate rather than show anything off. That prompted an idea that Victor
got for a Campus All-Nude Day in the Yard or CANDY Day.
    "Every day on Halloween it's tradition that guys walk around in their
underwear in the Yard, the center of campus, and guys go to class in just their
skivvies, so let's just make it all naked!" proposed Victor.
    Well, because I was working at the school paper, I secretly went in to
run off flyers that we spread all through campus the next day talking about
CANDY Day.
    Somehow, pretty quickly, we got caught.
    Dean Richie stood both Victor and I in front of his desk, he was a tall
stern guy with slicked-back hair. A picture of his young son and wife on his
desk screamed out his heterosexuality, yet a big paddle over his desk next to a
handsome stud in a leather jacket screamed out "Bondage queen."
    "You boys are bad, very bad, what do you think we're running here a big
old orgy?" the dean reprimanded. "If even one guy runs around the Yard naked,
you're both going to get booted right out of this school, so you better go out
and warn your friends."
    Victor spoke rather eloquently. "It's a way to let off all the pent-up
steam that your fine academic establishment has provided all of us, sir," he
said. I suddenly felt like I was in a scene from "Animal House."
    "You sir, have allowed a whole domestic situation here on campus where
nudity is encouraged," Victor continued. "The Naked Dorm is not a place of
eroticism, but freedom, and that is what our proposal is all about. Give it a try,
sir, be a ground-breaker."
    Victor continued snowing the Dean, but he still threatened us with
expulsion if Halloween meant no-costumes for even a single person on campus. The
problem was that Halloween was only two days away, and we certainly couldn't be
responsible for the whole school population.

    The morning of Halloween, Victor knocked on my dorm door and I rolled out
of bed in my stained cotton briefs. He stood there naked.
    I had never seen Victor naked before, and was surprised. He promptly
pulled down my underwear.
    "You're not wearing these anymore, and we're going out like this," Victor
said. "If we're going to get expelled, we may as well go in style."
I protested. "I'm not going out there naked!"
    Well, after an hour of convincing, I grabbed my notebook and two
textbooks and went with Victor out into the Yard in the center of campus without a
stitch of clothing. It was like that frightening recurring dream of going to
class naked and no one else noticing.
    We stood there without a stitch on, and hardly anyone paid any attention.
    After awhile, some of the guys who knew it was underwear day came up to
us and asked if they'd get in trouble if they revealed all. We encouraged them,
and they walked away nude, throwing their briefs to the wind.
    Four girls walked buy totally naked, too, as did Vincent who is rarely n
aked unless he's getting paid to be at the Speci-Men labs. He gave us a thumbs
up as he walked past.
    Then, Dean Richie approached. He wagged his finger at us. Victor
stretched out, his crotch exposed on the stone bench we sat on.
    "You two are out of here, I'll see to it myself, I'll call the campus
police to get you out of here right now," the Dean fumed. "What kind of campus do
you think we're running here?"
    Just then, the first period bell rang and out walked a few hundred
students, and teachers. Most of them were totally naked. Victor and I dropped our
jaws, but not as much as Dean Richie.
    One of the professors said, "Great idea, Dean, our whole class was
clothes-free first period, and it prompted great discussion."
    "I never thought I could do it, Dean, but you're on the cutting edge,"
said a freshman.
    "The Naked Dorm folk tried to get this approved for years, and so we
thank you, Dean," said a grad student, patting the Dean on the back. "And hey,
take your clothes off!"
    Before he could protest, a group of eight students had their hands all
over Dean Richie's suit and pantsed him, leaving him in a T-shirt and socks.
They neatly folded his clothes and gave it to him. He grabbed them and stormed
off to the BOTTOM Building.
    I high-fived Victor and picked up my books and proudly walked across
campus with my penis waving in the wind, my books at my side. For the first time,
I smiled at fellow students, looking them in the eye, not the crotch, not
afraid of looking like a stalker or a voyeur. We were after all, totally naked.
    I reached my study spot in the Stacks and looked over at an empty desk
down the aisle of books. I figured Shane Coley would be mobbed if he dared to
appear naked walking around campus. But then, the Exit door opened and my eyes
widened as I saw the robust naked form of the sexy swimmer sit down stark naked
at his favorite studying spot.
    I gasped and looked around, realizing that we were both naked and alone.
    He shot me his perfect smile and didn't say a word as his hand went down
to his cock. He stroked it under his desk, and I followed stroke for stroke on
my own expanding dick.
    Omigod, Victor would die if he saw me now. It was too good to be true.
Here I was being naked in public for the first time, and it was with my dream
man. He was jacking himself off about 20 feet away from me, looking in my eyes
as if we were lovers.
    I started grunting gently as pleasure filled my whole body, and I
twitched knowing that if we came together, the next step may be my lips bathing every
inch of his perfect body and then my tongue diving into his pink soft lips
and down his throat. It wasn't just sex I wanted from Shane Coley. I wanted to
kiss him, too.
    He put his other hand on his cock, and for the first time I saw him
straddling his appendage with both hands. That showed me how huge and perfect he
really was. He showed me that when his purplish-red rod was sticking straight up
that there'd be enough for another hand, my hand, to finish him off.
    My dream was shattered. The Exit door opened and banged shut as four guys
dove into the aisles of the stacks, all naked.
    "Holy shit, look at what we're missing!" one of them said, standing a few
feet from Shane, in front of me, and playing with himself in front of the
swimmer.
    Shane was out of there in a flash. He even left his notebook there.
    The masturbators turned toward me and began a circle jerk show for me,
but I wasn't interested. I picked up Shane's notebook and headed out.

    A few days later I left Shane's notebook at his locker in the gym where
he practices with the swim team. I saw him every once in awhile after that, but
we never spoke, and we never even got close to the intimate moment we had in
the Stacks that day.
    Shane never went back to his favorite spot after that day. He must've
found another place to study, and unfortunately I never was able to locate
exactly where that was.
    But, I do know that he got his notebook back, and all his class notes
were in tact and I hoped that he appreciated it.
     I couldn't return it without a little present though, without finishing
off what we had started.
    Two pages of his notes were stuck together.

To read more about my true college sexploits, check out "F.U." at <a
href="http://store.yahoo.com/alysonbooks/fu.html">
http://store.yahoo.com/alysonbooks/fu.html</a>