The Activist , Pt 1
I suppose a lot of guys can't wait to get to college, just to party. I couldn't wait to get to college, to party gay.
From when I was a kid, all my sexual thoughts were about boys. At the age of twelve, I seduced my best friend, Jimmy, and from the ages of twelve to thirteen, he and I jacked each other off, sucked one another's cocks, and even tried anal once – we didn't like the messiness with Vaseline. Jimmy’s family moved away when I was thirteen, and I went into the closet.
You see, I'm from a small town and small high school in Oklahoma; not the best place to be gay. I did girls in high school. Girls liked me. My eyes are large and blue, I’ve got thick, auburn-colored hair, my features are regular, and I'm lean. Back when we were in high school, they voted on best looking, and I got it for my class, three out of four years in high school. I was Homecoming King. I laid my first girl when I was fourteen.
I obviously liked girls enough to get it up for them, and I laid enough of them that I should have turned out straight myself; but I didn't. I liked boys. The bodies of my fellow, high school athletes were the stuff of my fantasies; particularly Stan. Stan was my best friend through high school, a short, well-built, outgoing jock, and hopelessly straight.
He’d get pissed at me at times, like when we went to the mall and girls seemed to come out of nowhere to flirt with me. If he’d only known that, while he was jealous because of girls going for me, I would have given anything to be intimate with him.
I would have given anything to simply know one other gay guy; just one other
guy like me.
My coach used to say that I ran like a black kid. Truth is, at two hundred meters and greater distances, I outran the black guys in my high school.
Though I had a choice of schools on track scholarships, I picked the University of Texas. UT was far from home, and big. None of my high school classmates would be going there, and I hoped to disappear among the thousands of students. In high school, I was so well known that if I tried anything with one of the guys I thought might be gay, everyone would find out about it. I’d had enough of being big man on campus. I simply wanted to be anonymous for a while, and gay.
I wasn’t ready to be ‘out’; not back home. I wasn’t sure I would ever be ready to be ‘out’, even at UT; especially at UT if I did well at track. But I’d longed for another gay boy for years, and I wanted to meet some.
I knew that there were gays at UT. Like any gay boy at the time, I noticed every news story that touched on ‘homosexuality’. There had been a story in Time magazine about gay activism on college campuses, and UT was mentioned as one.
It only took me a few hours on campus to realize that those gay guys weren’t visible. It was the early seventies, and there were no large signs up welcoming gay students. There were no arrows pointing to places I could meet other gay guys.
So I settled into my dorm and kept an eye out. I purposely didn’t try to make close friends with my roommate, who was another track athlete. Nor did I try very hard to make friends with other students I met. But that proved difficult. People have always been friendly with me, and I honestly like people. I just didn't want close friends who would interfere with my being gay… when I finally got the opportunity.
That opportunity came the third week of the semester when I saw a small classified in the school paper advertising a gay activist group. I certainly had no intention of being a gay activist, but I finally knew where I could find some other gay guys.
I waited for the weekend and woke Friday morning with butterflies in my stomach. That day, I turned down invitations to parties that evening and an invitation or two to hang out with guys in the dorm that night. Late afternoon, when I finished classes, I left the campus on foot, looking for the address in the ad.
What I found was an old, two-story, mission style house. Music blared from inside, and I had to knock loudly, several times, before a skinny guy, with bright red hair, answered the door… and looked me up and down. He appeared to be in his mid-twenties.
I was a little disappointed. I wouldn't turn eighteen for another week, and I hadn't been thinking about doing ‘things’ with an older guy. It was faintly exciting, though, to think he was gay. I assumed he was, if I had the right address. Did I have the right address?
"I'm here about… about the ad," I told him.
I felt my face turn red, and I raised my voice to be heard above the music. “The ad,” I said. “I’m here about the ad.”
“What ad?” he asked.
I thought about leaving. “The ad in the school paper,” I said.
“Ah!” he said with a nod, and he motioned me inside.
I'm not sure what I expected to find there; perhaps a community center or offices or something professional. But as I followed the redhead into the living room, it was obvious to me that this was a home, with furniture... old couches, chairs, a TV. Music blared from upstairs.
"Is this the right place?" I finally asked out loud, raising my voice. I decided to be bold. "I'm here about the activist group."
"Yeah," he responded, casually. "You want Travis. I'll try to find him." The redhead offered me his hand. "I'm Tim."
I shook his hand. "I'm Loren," I told him.
He held the shake a little long, and I thought, yeah, he's gay.
My eyes dropped to a coffee table in front of the couch. On top of the table were a couple of GQs and a magazine with a young naked guy, back to the camera, on the cover. The title was The New Male. I was in the right place.
Two guys passed through the room talking animatedly. They were dressed in tight bell bottoms which showed off their slender butts and their packages, the way bell bottoms used to do. They appeared to be my age. They glanced at me, paused, smiled, and continued on through the room. One paused at the door to the kitchen and looked back, flashing me a grin before his friend tugged him on through the door.
"Who the fuck was that?" I heard one of them exclaim, then I heard shushing. They said something else I couldn't make out, and then laughed.
Tim smiled, amused. He told me to take a seat, so I sat down on a couch, and he went upstairs.
A short, slight boy came into the room on his way to the kitchen. He stopped dead in his tracks, and then he smiled and came closer, almost simpering. "Hi!" he said.
"Who you here for?" he asked, smiling, coquettishly.
"Travis," I told him.
The boy pouted. "Figures." He took a seat on the couch beside me, knees together, hands in his lap. He held out a limp hand. "I'm Paul."
I shook his hand.
"Nice name," he said.
"Travis says he’ll be down in a moment,” Tim told me before taking a chair near the couch.
"How do you know Travis?" Paul asked in a high, lilting voice.
"I don't know him," I answered. "I came because of the ad for the gay activist group."
Paul grinned. "Oh, good! Please tell me you don't have a boyfriend."
“Damn, Paul!” Tim exclaimed. “Back off the boy. He probably likes older men anyway.” Tim winked at me.
I shook my head. "I don't have a boyfriend," I told them. Paul didn't interest me sexually any more than Tim did. With me coming from a totally non-gay environment, Paul’s feminine mannerisms didn't turn me on. I liked boys. I wanted someone like Stan or the fellow athletes I played sports with and showered with in high school.
Paul edged closer on the couch. "Are you a student? What year are you?"
"Freshman," I told him. "I just started."
“Where are you from?” Tim asked.
“Oklahoma,” I said.
The two of them asked more questions. The two guys who had passed through earlier came back and sat down to listen. Other guys passed through the room, all of them looking me over. Most smiled. One blew me a sultry kiss.
"Are all the guys here gay?" I asked.
"Most are," Paul said. "A couple of bisexual boys hang out here, too."
“It’s like a gay community center,” one of the other guys said.
"Do people live here?" I asked.
"Sure,” Paul answered before anyone else could. “Six guys live here. They aren't all students." He took my hand by the wrist, and then took my right forefinger between the thumb and forefinger of his right hand. “First, there’s Travis. He’s a senior, and he has one room upstairs.” He moved to the next two fingers. “Then there’s Timmy and Larry – you’ve already met Timmy, here,” he nodded toward Tim. “Timmy and Larry are lovers, and Larry is very handsome.” Paul flashed an aren’t-I-nice smile at Tim. “They have a room together.”
“We both work at the hospital,” Tim added.
Paul continued to my pinky. “Then there’s Andrew,” he said, nodding toward the taller of the two guys who sat down in the living room to listen to us. “He’s a student… “
“A junior,” Andrew said.
“And I’m David, his boyfriend,” the other of the two told me. It was David who said, ‘Who the fuck was that?’ earlier. I recognized his voice.
“But Andrew shares a room with Georgie,” Paul continued to my thumb. “Georgie’s also a student. And then there’s Nathan…” he said, laying the palm of my right hand on his.
“The Divine Miss Natasha,” Tim said with a grin.
“Nathan’s not a student,” Paul told me, leaning closer, confidentially. “He works in the men’s department at JC Penny.”
The music upstairs stopped. I heard footsteps coming down the stairs and two guys who looked to be upper classmen came into the room. They were both good looking. One, a blond, was striking, with wide-spaced, intelligent eyes and clothing like something off a GQ cover. He didn’t look like an athlete, but the thought crossed my mind that I didn’t have to start with an athletic boy as a lover.
They stopped just inside the room, studying me.
"Travis," Tim said, "this is Loren. He’s the one who was looking for you."
The blond guy cocked an eyebrow and came closer. The other boy followed. I took my hand from Paul’s and stood up.
"He came about the ad," Paul said, frowning.
“Actually,” I said, offering my hand to Travis, “I was just hoping to meet some other gay guys.”
Travis took my hand and cocked an eyebrow, nodding toward the other guys. “Looks like the ‘other gay guys’ are already circling,” he observed. He took my hand, but instead of shaking it, he held on to it and, he looked me up and down. “Be careful, my boy; they’re ravenous for fresh meat.”
I smiled, dumbly, not sure what to say.
“Are you a freshman?” he asked.
“You aren’t a virgin?” he asked, closing his other hand around my hand as well.
I shook my head. “I did stuff with my best friend in junior high.”
“Didn’t we all!” Andrew murmured from across the room. He and David laughed.
“Nothing since?” Travis asked, cocking an eyebrow.
I shook my head.
Travis’ eyes rose to the ceiling. “Oh, my!” he murmured. He glanced around the room. “A sheep among wolves!” He laid his arm over my shoulder as a phone began ringing in the background. “Well, my boy, if you’re going to be a gay activist, you have to become active first, don’t you? Have to walk before you can run, and all. I have some time to look after you, personally. I consider it my duty.” He squeezed my hand. “You come up to my room, and I’ll explain some things to you.” He grinned.
“Travis, it’s for you,” a guy called from the kitchen.
Travis frowned. “Don’t go away!”
Travis headed for the kitchen, and the other guy who had come down the stairs with him, followed on his heels, looking angry. I wondered if he was Travis’ boyfriend, and I strained to listen to what they might say in the kitchen, but just as they left the living room, the front door of the house flew open to a gaggle of high pitched laughs.
Three incredible creatures came through the doorway. I call them ‘incredible creatures’ because to a backwoods, Oklahoma boy, they were very different. It took me a moment to realize why: They were boys, dressed as girls. That became quickly obvious with two of them, but not the third. The third had long, black hair, and he really looked like a chick; maybe a little wide in the shoulders and narrow in the hips, but beautiful in the face… and he had a great smile. They were all laughing, hard, and he looked really, really happy.
In that moment, I realized, that as much as I wanted sex with another boy, I also wanted a gay friend. I needed another gay boy I could talk to and know and who would know me. And I knew I’d like to be friends with the happy guy, even if he was in drag. It was one of those, across-the-room-I-just-knew kinds of things.
His coloring was unusual. I thought, at first, he could be Hispanic, but he wasn’t as olive colored as I would expect. His features were mostly Caucasian, and I thought he could perhaps be Italian or some other Mediterranean type. And yet… if it hadn’t been for the long, black hair, something about him would have me almost guessing that he was a light-skinned, African-American boy. I wondered if he had white and black parents.
“We all got hit on!” one of the other guys in drag howled.
“Fraternity boys are so horny!” the second boy announced, waving his hand dramatically. “I thought they were going to rape Natasha, right on the street!”
Just then, the happy boy… Natasha… Nathan… caught sight of me. Our eyes met. He smiled. I smiled back. And then I realized that everyone had grown quiet.
“All done,” Travis said, coming back into the room, alone. He took my hand and headed for the stairs. “C’mon up, Loren; let’s talk.”
I glanced back helplessly at the happy boy. He looked less happy. So did Paul. None of the guys looked pleased that Travis was taking me away, and I wasn’t sure I liked the idea either. I almost pulled back, but I wasn’t sure I had a choice. I wasn’t sure what was expected or what exactly Travis had in mind, though I could guess. I followed him… up the stairway, down the hall, and into his room. He locked the door behind us, then took my hand in his, up to his chest and stepped toward me.
“So,” he said with a grin, “you’ve been dreaming about having sex with another boy ever since you were in junior high?”
I swallowed. “Yeah, sorta.”
Travis smiled, cocking an eyebrow.
“I mean, yeah, sure,” I said. “I just… I guess I didn’t think it would happen like this… so fast and all.”
“Fast?” Travis asked, looking surprised.
I frowned. “That’s is why you brought me up here, right?”
“I guess,” I said, my frown deepening, “I thought, like, we’d talk first, and you know… ”
Still smiling, Travis took my hand from his chest and placed my palm over the rock-hard front of his pants. I could feel the lump of his erection, and my mouth went dry. I hadn’t felt another boy’s erection, even through his pants, since junior high, and this was different; very different. Feeling Travis’ erection through his pants gave me an instant start to a boner.
“We can talk later,” Travis said, and leaving my hand pressed to the front of his crotch, he pressed his hand to the front of mine, cupping my package, gently feeling the outline of my thickening cock. He grinned.
Travis leaned close, pressing his cheek to mine while gently rubbing between my legs. “You’re fucking hot, baby!” he whispered.
My pulse was suddenly racing. He kissed my cheek and hot breath from his nostrils flowed down my neck. He kissed and sucked on my neck and my dick grew as rock-hard as his.
He looped his other arm around my back and pressed his lips to my ear. “Have you kissed another boy since junior high?” he whispered.
“I’ve never kissed another boy, even in junior high,” I murmured, my mind overwhelmed with sensations from his hand on my dick and balls.
Travis pulled our hands from between us, and pulled me into an embrace so that our hard dicks pressed through our pants. He kissed me. I kissed back. I wrapped my arms around the small of his back, and I kissed back. After all, I had kissed girls and knew how to kiss… but this was hotter; a lot hotter. The hard front of his pants pressed the hard front of mine, and our tongues probed hungrily into one another’s mouth.
Our mouths locked together. Travis reached between us, unbuttoning my shirt. I held our bellies together until the last button, then let his waist go so my shirt could fall off the backs of my shoulders.
Travis stepped back, unbuttoning his own shirt as fast as I’ve ever seen it done. His eyes were on my torso, and, as soon as his shirt was off, he pressed back to me, this time with his hands on my chest, feeling.
“Oh, baby,” he whispered, nuzzling the side of my face. “You are fucking hot.”
The bare skin of his belly against mine felt good. I pulled our bellies together. He wrapped his arms over the backs of my shoulders and we ground the fronts of our pants against each other. He pressed his open mouth to mine and sucked on my tongue when I pushed it in. His mouth was hot.
His hands went down my back and into the back of my pants, cupping my buns. I ran my hands over his back. He was thin, and his body was boney more than it was hard. I slipped my hands into the back of his pants and squeezed the fleshy globes of his bottom.
Our bellies were tight, but Travis worked his hands between them to undo my belt, the fastener on my pants, and then my zipper. His hand plunged into the front of my briefs and closed around my cock. I moaned.
He pushed my pants and underwear down off my hips, then broke the kiss to drop to his knees, taking my pants and briefs down with him. My cock wagged and he nuzzled into the crease of my leg, grabbing my butt with both hands. I heard him take a deep breath. He closed his mouth over my dick and coated my shaft with his wet saliva. My knees buckled.
“Ah!” I murmured. “I’m close!”
Travis backed off. He stood, stepping from his shoes and pushing down his pants and underwear. His dick sprang free. It was as long as mine, and mine is nine inches. I grabbed his and squeezed it. Travis grabbed the back of my neck and thrust his hips forward to move his cock in my hand.
“Oh, geez, let me fuck you,” he whispered in my ear.
I was in the mood for anything, so I nodded. I stepped from the shoes and the pants around my ankles, and then dropped to all-fours on his carpeted floor.
Travis retrieved a small plastic bottle of clear, viscous liquid and squeezed some out onto his fingers. He rubbed it in my butt, and then over his cock. He worked a finger into my butt, and I remembered the pleasurable feeling of Jimmy’s stiffy up my bottom the one time we tried anal.
Travis moved up on his knees behind me, grabbing me by the hip. I felt the wet, blunt end of his dick at my hole, and then he pushed it.
With a gasp, my back arched. “Holy crap!” I murmured. “That hurts! What’d you do?”
Travis didn’t back off. “Didn’t you and your friend ever try this?” he asked.
“Once,” I said, through gritted teeth. “But it sure as hell didn’t feel like this!”
His hands massaged and caressed my back and bottom. “Relax,” he coaxed, soothingly. “We’ll go slow. You’ll get used to it. Just relax your bottom.”
“Easy to say,” I murmured through gritted teeth, and then I gasped as he eased in another inch.
Travis bent over me, his chest on my back, and he reached under to grab my cock, which miraculously, was still hard. He stroked it and kissed behind my shoulder.
“Just relax, baby,” he whispered. “This will start to feel good.”
My mom would tell me, from time to time, when she was feeling under-appreciated, how much pain she had at my birth. I felt like I suddenly had a much deeper understanding of her pain. I clenched my teeth and tried to relax my bottom.
Slowly, very slowly, Travis eased all the way in, stroking my dick the entire time. Finally, I felt the tops of his legs press the backs of mine. His body behind mine, actually felt pretty good, and his hand felt good on my cock. It was his cock up my butt that hurt like hell. Slowly, though, the pain subsided inside my rectum.
Travis pumped his hips slowly, and after a few times, I felt pleasurable sensations. The pain didn’t go away completely, but something inside also felt good.
Travis pumped his hips slowly and jerked my dick rapidly. It was only a few minutes before I came, pumping a huge amount of semen onto his carpet. With his dick up my but, my orgasm was intense, and I wasn’t quiet about it.
Even before I finished, Travis let go of my dick, and grabbing my hips, he pumped furiously. My pleasure passed in an instance, and suddenly, the pain was back.
“That hurts!” I cried out. “Geez, stop! That hurts like hell!”
But Travis didn’t stop. “I’m almost there,” he murmured, holding my hips tightly and banging hard into me.
I went up on my knuckles. “Oh, shit!” I gasped. “That really hurts!”
Travis still didn’t stop. My eyes watered with the pain, and I was thinking about making him stop, when Travis finally groaned and whimpered through his climax. He pulled out, and the relief was instant.
He dropped to his back on the floor beside me and sighed deeply. “That was incredible!” he murmured.
I wiped my butt with my hand, looking for blood. All I got, though, was a little left-over lube and cum.
“Sorry it hurt,” he said. “It doesn’t, once you get used to it. It can feel good, a lot of guys really like it.”
“Do you like it?” I asked, frowning at him sharply as I sat up onto my haunches.
He frowned and shrugged. “I’m a top,” he said. “I’m not big on being fucked.”
“I can see why,” I murmured, getting to my feet.
“Relax,” Travis encouraged. “Let’s move to the bed.”
“I need to get back to the dorm,” I said, reaching for my underwear. “I have homework to do.”
“On a Friday night? Stick around. We’re going to a party later. Let me introduce you to guys.”
I’ve had girls show me off before, like a conquest. Travis had that kind of sound to his voice. I pulled on my underwear. “No thanks.”
Travis sat up. “Look, I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t realize it was hurting you that much.”
I pulled on my pants. “I asked you to stop.”
Travis frowned. “Don’t be such a pussy. Geez. It just takes a little getting used to.”
I’m not, by any stretch, a violent person, but I was a hell of a lot stronger than Travis, and at that moment, I felt like teaching him who the pussy was; but I thought better of it. For the first time in my life, I doubted that I was gay; I never remembered anything with Jimmy hurting like that. And yet, I wasn’t about to burn my bridges to the only gay boys I knew. So I simply reached for my shirt.
“Maybe I’m a top, too,” I said.
“Don’t make up your mind after only trying it once,” Travis encouraged. “It’ll be better next time.”
I pulled on my right shoe. “Yeah, well that won’t be for a while.”
I pulled on my other shoe and stepped to the door. I wasn’t going to say ‘thank you’ or ‘great to have met you’ or any bullshit like that.
“Later,” I said, opening the door.
Mercifully, I didn’t see anybody on the way down the stairs and I didn’t look into the living room before heading out the door.
I felt humiliated, screwed over… used. I wanted a shower. I wanted a shower and clean clothes and to forget being gay.
But as soon as I got back to the dorm, and my eyes traveled over ever good
looking boy I passed in the lobby and hall, I knew I couldn’t go straight.
However, there was no way I wanted to be seen at that house again, and there
was no way I was going to let anybody else fuck me again, ever!
I always tell readers that their emails are the only pay we Nifty writers ask for or receive. I'd love to hear from you if you follow this story. It's my first time posting to the college area, and I'm interested in seeing how many readers are here. My email address is email@example.com.