Date: Thu, 1 Aug 2013 08:08:41 -0700
From: urbane69@gmail.com
Subject: Spring Break Cruise 3

This is the third chapter of what happened with Andrew and me.  To
summarize before hand, We were friends for a few years before finding out
how much fun sex would be between us while we were on a cruise for spring
break.  After that, we moved in together as already planned with another
room mate.  This is describing how it was being his roommate and his
boyfriend.

And of course, positive feedback is always welcome, its hot to hear how it
turns you on and you get off to it!  Urbane69@gmail.com

And if you've been enjoying these stories and all the others on NIFTY,
consider donating money, it's a volunteer run page!

I never thought I'd ever want to have a boyfriend.  The idea never crossed
my mind, instead looking at girls as potential dates and relationships.
After moving in with Andrew, the transition from wanting a girlfriend to
having a boyfriend was natural.  The realization of Andrew being my
boyfriend was as easy as being a normal platonic friend.  It took no
effort, and unlike the girlfriend I had before Andrew, it developed so
simply and without effort; there wasn't a point of asking if we'd be
committed to each other or what our relationship would be classified as.

Living in the same house as Andrew made the change real.  We had been best
friends the entire time I was in the dorms, and, now living together we
were more than best friends.  Michael, our other room-mate was clueless to
the relationship being lived out under the same small roof.  Our routine
continued every sunny day, with long runs in the evening and group dinners,
often with other cadets from our program.  Andrew and I didn't spend any
more time with each other than we had before, except now, anytime we were
at home, we were with each other.  I'll credit this fact to how we could
hide our relationship so well.  We were always in a group setting on campus
or in class, or during our field training in ROTC.  Michael, the closest of
our friends to us, wouldn't see any difference in our behavior towards each
other, always with the excuse of "we live together, of course we hangout
when we're at home".

Classes continued, long hours in the library, meetings with professors and
study groups became more common as I progressed through spring quarter.
Andrew was equally busy with his history classes.  Despite being busy with
all our academia we always found time to celebrate our relationship.
Michael would be the first of us to go to bed most nights, leaving Andrew
and I studying at our dinner table or watching a movie on the couch.  The
thought was never far from our minds, and our cue was always Michaels'
going to bed.  We'd wait an obligatory twenty minutes or so, making sure he
wouldn't get back up or that he was already asleep.  We did have a small
house and noise would always be a concern.

This routine was about all we could get away with during the school week.
Michael would go to bed.  Andrew and I would look over at each other and
neither of us could help but smile, knowing what was going to happen.  I'd
continue to try to study, but at this point, I'd be getting too excited to
retain anything I read, or to write coherently.  That familiar rush of
adrenaline through my heart and hands was always enough to make it
impossible to sit still.  I'd pour a glass of water to wet my mouth,
anticipating what was going to happen.  Warm water was the best to do this;
I'd always secrete more saliva and spit afterwards, more than cold water.
Andrew meanwhile, underneath a blanket or text books, would discreetly undo
his belt, sometimes pulling his cock out through his fly so it would be
waiting for me when we were sure Michael was asleep.  Those twenty minutes
were full of more anxiety and excitement than any Christmas morning had
been for me as a kid.

Finally, after that eternity of making sure Michael was in his bed for the
night, I would come over to Andrew.  We'd always have the biggest grins on
our faces, the type of grin we could only give each other.  I'd walk over,
and after him sliding the coffee table out of the way with his foot
(careful not to move his textbooks or the blankets from his lap), I'd kneel
in front of him.  Andrew then would reward me with his prize.  He'd put the
textbooks aside, or I'd pull the blanket from him; either way his cock was
there to greet me.  The rush of seeing his cock in front of me never went
away.  Every night we could get away with it, I'd get the same extra jolt
of adrenaline and lust through my body.  My Andrew-grin would get even
bigger when I saw his cock for the first time each night, and I'd quickly
grasp it and start pulling on it.  Our eyes would meet, whispering
encouragement and admiration for each other:

"You looked so good today"

"I love how you feel in my hands"

"I've been looking forward to this all day"

We'd whisper because of Michael, no more than a dozen feet from us,
separated by the drywall of his room.  The TV wouldn't be turned down, and
if we were only studying, we'd have put music on to mask our affections.

I'd put his cock in my mouth, never too fast or immediately deep-throating
him.  My skills as a cock-sucker were improving every day, and by now I
knew that if you just suck on the head for a while, or lick him from his
balls to his mushroom head, you could build up more spit and saliva, both
in your mouth and all over his cock.  That's the key to a good blowjob:
saliva.  Get the cock as wet as possible with drool, spit saliva pre-cum,
cum, anything, and the man is in for a good time.  Building up enough
saliva, I'd slide my mouth down his entire cock, resting on his pelvis and
relaxing my throat for the next few minutes.  His hands would be in my hair
at this point, rubbing against the stubble of my military haircut.  They
were never forceful, but always encouraging.  His sighs and moans as I
finally take his cock into his mouth were as gentle and comforting as his
hands, and as I'd start bobbing up and down, his hips would almost
subconsciously curl up to keep as much cock in my mouth as possible.  It
was a gentle face-fucking he gave, while I returned the pleasure with my
own bobbing.

Sucking cock has been a fascination of mine since the first time I ever did
it.  The animal lust of being on your knees for a man is so primitive, so
filthy, so erotic.  The world stops when I have a cock in my mouth.
Absolutely nothing else matters than getting it as slobbery as possible,
and getting as many moans and grunts from that cocks owner as I can.  My
vision closes in and all senses except those of my own cock and the
feelings of my mouth.  I would never hear the TV or music that we had on
when I was on my knees for Andrew, only his gasps and moans.  For all I
knew, Michael could be standing directly behind Andrew and I would never
know, so focused I was on his cock.

Often, Andrew and I only got to the blowjobs.  I'd suck his cock while he's
on the couch, then after he came, he'd lift me by my armpits and throw me
on the couch where he'd return the favor.  Sometimes I would swallow his
cum, him erupting in my mouth without me missing a beat.  Other times, I
would take his cock from my mouth so I could feel his warm cum all over my
face.  When I wanted a facial, I'd let him cum how he wanted, and I'd scoop
the streams of his jizz into my mouth until I had enough to swallow.  The
feeling of my face being sticky and slick with Andrews cum while he sucked
my cock was euphoric.  It was a reward, an affirmation of how good a job I
had done and how much he had enjoyed my mouth all over him, while at the
same time he was returning the favor to me, my cock buried in his
incredible mouth.  Laying on the couch where Andrew put me, I'd be beside
myself in pleasure.  My hands running through his stubbly hair as he would
caress mine, maybe one hand playing with the cum on my face or behind my
head so I could watch the show.  Sometimes, all I could manage was lay
there, rolling my head from side to side and moaning like the whore I had
become for him.  Andrew was more aggressive at sucking cock than me.  I
could never last as long as he could, and soon I'd be filling his mouth
with cum, bucking my hips forward and letting out a desperate grunt while
he eagerly swallowed my load.  After we had both cum, it would take a
minute or two for us to catch our breath and compose ourselves.  Wiping
spit and drool and cum from our cheeks we'd put our shorts back on.  A
glass of water, another minute of TV and we would go to bed.  During the
school week we never slept in the same bed.

That fun was reserved for the weekends, when Michael would be busy
elsewhere and probably not coming home for the night.  Andrew and I would
be jumping with anticipation by the time Thursday came every week.  We
would always be social on the weekends, but aware of not showing up to
every party or group dinner together.  ROTC was a fraternity unlike any
other on campus, no matter how much all of us hated Greek life.  We were a
group of about sixty, men and women.  The closeness of the program was
solidified by not only the heavy amount of classroom time we had together
but the time consuming training, every week as well.  .

Because of how close we made our program, Andrew and I were very aware of
what our relationship would look like from the outside.  Although we nearly
always carpooled to any party or dinner before we became lovers, we were
careful to disrupt the routine.  Sometimes one of us wouldn't show up at
all.  We would trade off carpooling with Michael so he wouldn't become
suspicious either.  And, for good measure, at any party, we would each hit
on girls.  Although I was in love with Andrew, it was nice to still hit on
girls.  Perhaps It was the feeling of being a conformist once again, of
doing something so socially acceptable, even expected without having to
hide it.  Any guy who fucked a girl at a party would brag to his friends,
something neither Andrew nor I could ever dream of doing.  With beer in
hand, I'd go for the girls that I usually would.  I've always been counter
culture in my taste for women.  It was always the quieter girl at the
party, sticking sort of to herself but never dramatically so that would get
my attention.  Of course looks had a lot to do with it too.  Dreadlocks,
Dyed black hair, Orange or any unnatural color, extremely short hair,
Tattoos, piercings, even self inflicted scars were attractive to me.  This
was something I've been aware of in my taste between men and women.  My
women: I like as rebellious looking as possible.  My men though, as
straight laced, conformist and clean cut (on top of muscle bound!).
Despite Kendra, my special down the hall in my old dorm, I had never been a
fan of the fake tan, blonde hair always-happy girl.  Angst was an
attraction.

The parties we would always go to would have at least one girl meeting my
unusual criteria for a girl.  Starting the night in the kitchen of
whichever house we wound up at, I'd talk with the cadets, usually the more
senior cadets hosting.  With a beer in hand we would talk shop and de-tox
from a week of papers, ROTC and class.  A few beers into the night , I'd
start to mingle with the non-cadets at the party.  Talking with girls I
would always steer the conversation away from our Army talk.  I would be
eager to talk about anything else.  I still had the same thrill of hitting
on the cute girls at any party.  That evolutionary skill never escaped me
no matter how deep into the world of gay lust I got.  By the end of the
night my cock would be rock hard.  A mixture of the beers I'm drinking and
catching glimpses of Andrew across the room would fill me with the
excitement of knowing how inevitably my night would end.  Punk girl on the
couch with me, or on my lap at the table, would be certain it was her charm
and rebellious good looks that was having such an effect on me.  Really the
hardest part of the night would be bailing on her without losing face.  I'd
get a text from a friend, saying he needs a ride from a different party was
a favorite: it would always be Andrew, as anxious as I was to get alone.
I'd look at the text, feign disappointment:

"(Insert name here), I have to go, my friends' drunk and needs a ride"

"Oh fuck, I wish you could stay"

I'd have enough tact to ask for a phone number and a promise to call.  Most
of the girls I would ordinarily be very interested in.  My degree in
sociology attracted a lot of these alternative-looking girls, and several
of the girls I would work so hard on at parties would be classmates, and a
few even welcomed into my sexual world.

 Hurriedly, with the disguise of leaving to help a friend in need, I would
rush home, straight to Andrew's room.  We would both strip down as fast as
possible, wasting no time in foreplay or romance.  At this point we only
felt the need to fuck.  We pulled each other close and our naked bodies
pressed against each other as we kissed as hard as we could, moaning into
our mouths.  My hands groped at his back, always surprised and in awe of
the muscle and power of him.  His hands reached down to my ass, grabbing my
cheeks and pulling them apart.  Our cocks pressed together too, an extra
thrill of feeling his rigid flesh against mine, and as we started grinding
against each other further in our kiss, pre-cum would eventually smear over
our two cocks together.  Andrew lifted me, still grabbing my ass and threw
me on his bed.  I sprawled out on his sheets, arms above my head loving the
authority he had over me.  Andrew wasted no time and dropped to his knees,
swallowing my cock in one move as he usually did.  That was what I needed
the whole night, no matter how hot the girl at the party was.  I was hard
for Andrew, and only Andrew.  He got his rhythm and hungrily swallowed
every inch of my cock, leaving me only to gasp and grunt.  Andrew sucked my
cock only for a minute, not letting me cum yet.  He had a different idea.
His strong calloused hands kept pulling my ass apart and squeezing my
cheeks.  I loved the effect it had on my ass; feeling exposed and
vulnerable when he pulled.  He released my cock from his mouth and dropped
to my asshole.  Never gentle, Andrew buried his mouth on my hole,
slobbering, spitting, licking, probing, lapping and biting everything,
making me moan like a whore.  As soon as he started this, I was begging.
He knew how badly I wanted him to fuck me, and he loved to tease me with
his tongue.  He'd warm up my fleshy ring, getting me nice and wet and loose
for him to slide his big cock into me.  Grunting and grabbing at the sheets
to keep myself from passing out I only moaned and pleaded, and felt like
such a bitch for him.  I had been transformed by his busy tongue and his
wet mouth and his rough hands into the 110lbs porn starlet, advertised as
Daddy's little slut, begging for a big strong man to pound her like she
deserved.  I was in love with feeling like his little slut, his play thing
to toss around and fuck as he pleased.  Oh yes, I still felt like a man,
but I was his to play with.

Standing up, Andrew looked at me, and I knew it was time for me to get
fucked.  He grabbed my ankles and twisted them, making me spin around on my
stomach: it was going to be doggy style.  I eagerly pulled my legs up
beneath me, more hunched on my thighs than on my hands and knees.  I knew
how rough he loves to give it, and simply being on hands and knees wasn't
going to work against his powerful thrusts.  My hands were behind me,
pulling my ass cheeks as far apart as possible, exposing my puckered and
sloppy asshole for his big cock.  Andrew braced himself with one foot on
the mattress, the other still on the floor.  He grabbed my hip with one
hand and with his other, aimed his cock straight at its waiting prize.
Gasping into the sheets, I felt him press his head against me.  In the past
several week, my asshole had become more than willing to accept his member
inside, and with hardly any pause, Andrew popped the tip of his cock past
my sphincter.  My gasping was nearly the only sound in the room, the heavy
breathing muffled by the sheets I was pushed against.  His cock was
steadily sliding into me, filling my asshole with its warm and hard flesh.

 I was being rewarded for being such a good boyfriend to him, for being
his, for being willing and able to satisfy my man's needs, emotional and
physical.  The pre-cum dripping from his cock was more than enough
lubricant, making his cock, however roughly Andrew could use it, however
hard it was, feel like the softest silk inside of me.  As my ass became
fuller, I finally felt his pelvis reach my ass cheeks, still behind held
apart by my hands.  He bottomed out, his cock all the way inside of me, and
immediately started short thrusts, just sliding back out an inch then back
in, soft at first, and deliberate.  I could feel his hanging balls start to
slap against mine, now retracted to the base of my cock.  Andrew started
thrusting harder, his cock sliding farther and faster in and out of me,
eliciting louder and longer moans from my face, still buried in the sheets.
Harder and faster, faster and harder, Andrew kept fucking me more and more.

He abandoned trying to steady himself on two feet, his knees no weak.  He
collapsed on me, shoving me forward so now my legs were under his, and I
was underneath him, feeling his weight and sweating pressing me into the
mattress.  He grabbed my hips to hold me still while he fucked, his body
bucking against me, his pelvis slapping against my ass nearly as loud as
his balls slapping against mine. He was grunting into my ear, his teeth
biting it, sending vibrations through my head almost as powerful as the
vibrations he was causing everywhere else in my body.  I myself was moaning
too, just like the little bitch I was feeling like, half squealing into the
sheets as his cock invaded the most private area of a man, the area that
happily belonged to Andrew.  My own cock was on fire with the feelings of
being jerked off, my prostate being dominated by his cock deep inside my
asshole.  Time was lost to us as he took me, pounding me into his bed with
his big cock, making me squeal for more of it and both of us sweating and
grimacing in pleasure.  The pain I used to feel from being fucked so hard
had long since given way to nothing but pleasure, the result of having been
fucked for weeks.  Andrews bucking and thrashing on top of me got more
sudden and deliberate, signaling he was about to cum.  I felt my asshole
expand even more as his urethra pulsed his giant load of cum up his cock
and into me.

He came hard.  Andrew gave one final thrust, the hardest yet, and his cum
shot from his cock deep inside me.  My ear stung with his hard bite and his
hot breath warmed my ear and neck.  I was squealing even more from that
last hard thrust and the cock deep in me.  I could feel his cock pulse
several times, each pulse a warm flow of his semen flooding my asshole,
that warm slippery sensation rewarding my efforts of being such a good
bottom.  After the pulses stopped, Andrew thrust a few more times, as deep
in my ass as he could possibly get, coaxing the last drops of his delicious
cum out of him and into me.  I had finally stopped squealing, now just
panting and trying to get a hold of myself after such a hard fuck he had
given me.  A tongue started flicking in my ear, making me smile at the warm
sensation on top of his hot breath.  Slowly and carefully, Andrew pulled
his cock from my ass, now gaping and vacant.  Andrew was more careful
taking his cock out of me than he was shoving it in me.  I could feel how
gaped I was, my hole very sensitive to the cooler air allowed to the
insides of my asshole.  His warm cum was slowly leaking out, an amazing
warmth trickling down my balls.

He lifted himself off of me, and I flipped to my back, exposing my now
near-purple cock, swollen from the intensity of the fucking against my
prostate.  I didn't want to touch it, afraid I would cum immediately.
Andrew had something new up his sleeve.  He knew how sensitive I was by
now, and wanted to use it.  He grabbed my hips and dragged me up onto him,
so I was more on my shoulders than on my back.  I was looking nearly
straight up at my own cock, my legs splayed obscenely above me.  I knew
what he wanted, and for that matter, I wanted it too!

"Jerk me off" I pleaded "Fuckin' jerk me off right now!"

Andrew smiled the smile I was in love with "open wide"

This was exactly what I wanted.  I closed my eyes and opened my mouth as
wide as I could, sticking my tongue out waiting.  Andrew grasped my cock
and stroked it.  I was breathing heavy, afraid to moan and close my mouth.
Still gaping and slippery with left over cum, my asshole was met with
Andrews face once again.  Andrew stuck his tongue as far as he could inside
my gaping hole, tasting his own cum, and, making me shoot my own load.  One
powerful stream, then a second, and I felt warm droplets spray all over my
face.  I was absolutely covered with my own cum.  My neck, my cheeks, my
forehead were plastered with my cum.  Only a few drops hit my tongue, and I
greedily swallowed.  Andrew stopped tonguing me and admired my freshly
made-up face.  My eyes closed, I smiled, knowing how I looked.  He scooped
up a large stream of it from my cheek and offered it against my lips, and I
sucked his finger clean.  Andrew rolled to the side, letting me lay back
down on my back and cuddle against him.  My spent cock rested against his,
and we slowly kissed each other, feeling my cum against our faces.  We
eventually cleaned it up, making out for what seemed like hours.  We were
both covered in sweat, his bed torn apart by the violent fucking.  We slept
together all night, arms wrapped around each other.  We never did hear
Michael come home, and only through luck did we wake up and get out of his
room before Michael did.  A long run and a quick breakfast shook the
residue of our adventure the night before.