Date: Thu, 15 Feb 2018 01:41:08 +0000 (UTC)
From: Raleigh Miller <writerstuff@yahoo.com>
Subject: Fraternity Rush Week, Part 3

FRATERNITY RUSH WEEK, PART 3

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********

NOTE: This story, involving two college freshmen, is set in 1990, before
most people had ever heard of (let alone seen) a cell phone, and the
primary underwear options for guys were boxers and briefs. Truly, the Dark
Ages.

Thanks everyone who sent feedback on the previous two chapters! Please send
any comments to writerstuff@yahoo.com.

********

I awakened to the unmistakable sounds of a Friday morning drifting up from
seven floors below. The beep-beep-beep of the garbage truck gave way to the
familiar commotion of trash day as, one by one, the dorm's dumpsters were
emptied, and then dropped back onto the concrete with a crash. I squinted
at the alarm clock atop the temperamental heating and air conditioning
unit, which always kept the room a little too warm or a little too
cool. The glowing blue numbers taunted me with 5:27 AM, which meant I could
nestle back against Travis' warm, naked form, and try to prolong this --
whatever THIS was -- for another couple of hours.

Travis, however, had other ideas. Trying what was undoubtedly his best not
to disturb me, he climbed clumsily over my body, his morning wood grazing
my arm. "Fuck, sorry," he whispered as he nearly tumbled onto the floor. I
smiled and admired the view, first of his five-and-a-half-inch boner, and
then of his firm ass. Finding his footing, he scanned the room for a
moment, before settling on my discarded boxers. "I'm borrowing these," he
said, not waiting for an answer. "I need to take a serious piss."

I directed him to the closest of the floor's two restrooms, and watched as
he pulled on my too-large underwear. Cinching them tight around his waist,
he walked out into the hall, a little unsure of his surroundings. It was
only then it occurred to me that he might encounter my resident adviser,
who woke up early each day to go running, and prided himself in knowing
everybody who lived on the floor. I laughed at the idea that he might spot
a half-naked Travis stumbling down the hall and immediately deduce he just
had his cock sucked and his ass fingered by that quiet guy in Room 720.

Travis returned after a few minutes, still holding tight to the waistband
of the borrowed boxers. Locking the door behind him, he staggered to the
center of the room. "Fuck," he chuckled, "I think I'm still drunk."

"Better than hung over," I suggested, and he nodded in agreement. Still
trying to will the boxers to remain around his waist, he surveyed the
small, cinder-block cell, as if seeing it for the first time. "I've never
been in a dorm room before," he realized.

"You haven't missed much, I promise," I replied.

"So ...," he began, letting the word hang in the air. My stomach sank. This
was it, I realized: Travis was about to concoct an implausible story about
blacking out, and then spend the next three years hoping to avoid me on
campus. "When's your first class?" I was dumbstruck; in my imagining of
this seemingly inevitable conversation, his first question was something
like, "Man, what happened last night?"

I managed to relay that I had English Composition at 10. "Cool," he said,
"I've got class at 11. We can stay in bed for a few more hours, then?" I
made mental note of his phrasing -- "stay in bed" verses simply "sleep" --
but knew I shouldn't overanalyze the word choice of a still-drunken
freshman. Travis then glanced down at the baggy boxers that covered his
nakedness. "Um, I may have pissed on these a little. Sorry."

"No big deal, I have to wash them anyway," I lied, knowing full well that
those boxers would now never see the laundry room again. With that, Travis
loosened his grip on the underwear, allowing them to fall to the floor. His
piss-proud cock had subsided, but only somewhat. As he climbed over me,
back into bed, I tried to steady him, placing one hand on his arm and the
other on his muscular ass. I'm not ashamed to admit I copped a feel.

"Hey!" he said, a grin stretching across his face as he flopped down beside
me. "Hands off the goods, perv!" We both laughed as he joined me beneath
the blanket. It was quiet for a few moments as we lay on our backs, our
warm bodies touching in the tiny bed. Travis cleared his throat, breaking
the silence. "So ... last night." Surely, he wasn't going to claim
beer-induced amnesia as we lay naked next to each other? "That was
... fun."

"Last night?" I teased. "You mean the scavenger hunt, or the darts?"

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Travis' mouth fall open, and then
transform into a wide grin. "You dick!" he said, playfully pushing
me. "Here I thought you were all quiet and shy. But I guess once you suck a
guy's cock, you get all mouthy."

"It's part of the job description," I responded, and we both cracked up,
shaking the bed beneath us. We regained our composure, and grew quiet once
more. This time it was my turn to disrupt the lull. "So," I began, and then
hesitated before charging on. "Are you gay, bi or ... what?"

The question lingered for five or six seconds before Travis finally
replied, "What."

"I said --"

"I heard what you said," he cut in. "That's my answer, `what.'" He went
quiet again as he gathered his thoughts from an alcohol-fogged brain.

"I've fucked a bunch of girls," he said in a way that didn't sound like
bragging, "and I've been blown by a couple of guys -- I mean, other than
you ..."

As he trailed off, I couldn't help but wonder about the circumstances of
those blowjobs -- drunken fumbling, adolescent curiosity? -- but I didn't
dare to ask. Realizing Travis had reached the end of his answer, I tamped
down the butterflies in my stomach and, finally, whispered, "I'm gay." It
was followed by a nervous laugh that veered dangerously close to
tears. "You're the first person I've ever told."

"Aw, man," Travis replied. Beneath the blanket, he gave my bare thigh a
reassuring squeeze, and then left his hand there. "I mean, I kind of
thought so, but I'm glad you felt comfortable enough to tell me." Another
pause. "This is the first time I've slept naked with a guy, and ... had a
guy's finger up my butt."

"Those were firsts for me, too," I offered, adding, "I'm a virgin."

"Yeah? You've never done anything with a girl?"

"Not really," I mumbled, suddenly embarrassed, "unless you count kissing my
prom date."

"No," Travis snickered, "I don't."

"Asshole," I replied while joining in his laughter. His hand remained on my
leg the entire time, causing my five-inch boner to throb and my face to
flush.

Once our cackles faded, Travis continued our dorm-room confessional: "You
ever wear tighty-whities?"

"Sure," I shrugged, "when I was little."

"You're still little," Travis replied.

"Wait, is that a joke about my DICK?" I fired back, half-kidding.

"What? No!" he responded, a little too loudly. "No! I mean that boxers are
for old men, and you're -- we're -- young!" He squeezed my leg again, and
continued. "I'd never ... I mean ..."

I was about to let him off the hook when he slid his hand from my thigh to
my stiff prick, and gently squeezed. I shuddered in response. "Your dick is
fine, man. You should stop worrying about that shit."

He didn't let go of my throbbing cock, and instead said, "I've never
touched another guy's dick before, either."

"Really?" I breathed, my voice quivering. "You never jerked off with a
friend or anything?"

"Yeah, sure," he said, and squeezed again, as if taking stock of my little
spike. "I jerked off with my neighbor a bunch of times, back in junior
high, but we never touched each other. We just looked at his brother's
crusty porn mags and beat our meat on his bed. Nothing like this. It's
really warm ... and hard."

Travis gripped my dick again, and then lightly stroked it, his hand only
grazing the hard flesh. I thrust upward, reflexively, eliciting a
chuckle. "You like that, K?" he asked, his voice suddenly husky. I could
only nod. "Say it." Raising up, he reached over with his other hand and
threw back the blanket to reveal both of our naked bodies; he was just as
hard as I was. "Tell me how much you fucking love it."

Finding my voice, I declared, "I fucking love it!" Knowing full well that
the early risers on the floor would be stirring, I tried not to be loud,
but I couldn't help myself. "It feels so fucking good." I bucked my hips
for emphasis, pushing my prick into his fist.

"Yeah, that's what I want to hear," Travis breathed as he rubbed his thumb
over my knob. "So fucking hot." I wasn't sure whether he was referring to
my hard dick (in retrospect, probably not) or my eagerness to do what he
said (more likely), but I couldn't have cared less.

Travis released my prick, but I had little time for disappointment to set
in, as he quickly straddled my body. With a hand planted on either side of
my shoulders, Travis eased himself on top of me, his larger boner pressing
against my own. We both groaned at the contact; I thrust upward, creating
more friction. The bed rocked and the box springs squeaked as we picked up
the pace. Our cocks became slick with precum, but I couldn't say who was
the source -- Travis, me or both of us. Not that it mattered, of course.

"That's goddamn hot," Travis panted as he ground his dick into mine. I
grabbed his muscular ass, and pulled him even tighter against me. "You like
that, K, fucking our cocks together?"

The obvious answer was "Well, duh," but I knew Travis wanted to hear me say
it. "Fuck, yes," I replied, and forced three fingers into his damp ass
crack. After another couple of thrusts, Travis stopped and rose up,
planting his left foot on the floor. "Show me how much you want my cock,"
he commanded.

I inched down the bed, until my mouth was just beneath his leaking
cock. Grabbing his ass, I forced him closer, so the head of his dick
crossed my lower lip, leaving a trail of precum. I slurped it greedily,
causing Travis to groan and thrust. It wasn't the most comfortable, or the
most practical, position, but I would have stood upside down underwater if
it meant getting more of that cock. Pressing his hands against the wall
above my headboard for leverage, Travis drove his rod in and out of my
mouth. It's difficult to say which was louder, our moans and groans or
those of the bed.

I'm not sure whether he sensed my discomfort or merely sought to increase
his own pleasure, but Travis shifted his body again, so that he could feed
me even more of his cock. As he began to thrust downward, his smooth balls
smacked my chin. I gripped his ass in an attempt to draw his five and a
half inches even deeper into my mouth. "Take ... my ... cock, K," Travis
ordered, each word punctuated by the thrust of his hips. He continued his
assault for what was probably another minute but felt like ten. "Stop,
stop," he finally gasped as he slid his dick out of my mouth. My lips
followed, trying to hold on to my leaking prize for just a few seconds
longer.

He shifted again, so that he was straddling my face, providing me with a
view of the area I knew was referred to as the taint ("Tain't my balls, and
tain't my asshole"). I inhaled a heady blend of scents that I could only
begin to identify. Travis lowered himself and groaned, "Lick it."

I'd spent enough time in school locker rooms before and after gym class to
know the phrase "Sit on my face," usually spoken by horny teen boys as they
described what they wanted some cheerleader to do. I, of course, was so
preoccupied with sneaking peeks at those boys as they changed into or out
of their gym clothes that I never gave any thought to the mechanics of the
acts they discussed. What's more, despite all the attention I lavished on
my own asshole, I had never considered licking someone else's. It didn't
repulse me; it's simply that, in a time before online porn, I never
imagined it as something two guys might do.

But there I was, with Travis' balls press against my nose, and his cock
hovering above me. I flicked out my tongue, tasting the sweaty nether
region of an 18-year-old who hadn't showered in at least a day. I wasn't
judging; I enjoyed the taste, and the smell. He groaned and rocked as my
tongue bathed his taint. I reached for my throbbing, leaking spike, but was
interrupted by Travis. "Uh-uh, not yet."

He moved again, giving my tongue an unobstructed path to his ass. "Eat my
butthole, man," he panted. Something that was most likely precum dripped
into my hair as I reached up and spread his ass cheeks apart. He pressed
down, and my tongue danced across his pucker.

"Motherfucker!" Travis proclaimed. "Finger my hole, K. Stick a fucking
finger in there!

Always eager to oblige, I pressed a middle finger against the knot, even as
I licked around it as best I could from my current position. It slipped in,
drawing a hiss from Travis. Twisting the digit back and forth, I worked it
in deeper. Above me Travis rocked and began to stroke his hard cock. After
a few moments, he abruptly stopped.

"Wait, wait," he said as he climbed off of me, and the bed, and stood on
the floor. "My fucking leg was starting to cramp," he chuckled, massaging
his right calf. "Get on the floor."

I slid onto the floor, and then turned to find myself presented with
Travis' sculpted ass. He was bent over the bed, his upper body lying on the
mattress. His head turned, he looked back at me. "What are you waiting for?
Start eating, fucker."

I quickly got onto my knees, pulled his cheeks apart and ran my tongue up
the length of his furry, damp crack. I heard a muffled groan as I went to
work, licking and slurping every inch of exposed real estate. It was sweaty
and slightly musky; the combined scent and taste traveled from my tongue to
my brain before racing down to my dick. I forced the tip of a finger back
into the hole, an intrusion greeted by an appreciative "Oh, fuck, yeah"
from Travis. He pushed back, inviting deeper exploration. As the digit
twisted and turned, my tongue continued its own journey up and down the
crevice. Travis began to jerk his cock as he rocked back into me, his
steady stream of moans interrupted only by the occasional "Fuck!" and the
whines of the bed.

"Eat that hole, K," Travis groaned, thrusting his ass backward for
emphasis, as if I might not know what he meant. "Stick your fucking tongue
in there."

I hesitated for no more of a second before withdrawing my finger to replace
it with my tongue. While I'd never actually eaten ass, I was familiar with
the flavor of my own; everything from my fingers to carrots had been jammed
into my hole, and then placed in my mouth to add saliva as necessary. But
the first real taste of Travis' was, well, intoxicating: bitter, sweet and
a little sour at the same time, with more than a hint of
copper. Immediately hooked, I pulled Travis' cheeks as far apart as I
could, and pressed my face against his ass, driving my tongue in as far as
his hole would permit. "Aw, goddamn," he groaned, grinding against my face,
"deeper!"

His tight hole loosened slightly, permitting my tongue in just a little
farther. I drove it in and out, adding the occasional lick or slurp for
variety, to the chorus of moans and curses, which barely masked the sound
of Travis jerking his cock.

Desperate to give my aching tongue and jaws a break, I reinserted a
finger. Finding little resistance, I worked in another, triggering a loud
but seemingly approving "Fuck!" from Travis. Every thrust or twist of my
fingers was met with an appreciative groan until finally Travis panted,
"Stop! Stop ... shit." Extricating his ass from my probing digits, he
rolled over onto his back and continued pounding his rock-hard cock. I
leaned in and began to lick his balls. He slowly, shakily stood, but never
stopped stroking. "Lay down on the bed -- hurry."

I crawled onto the bed, my five-inch cock sticking straight up, begging for
relief. Standing over my trembling body, Travis quickened his pace. "Fuck
fuck fuck fuck," he chanted. "Gonna cum! Fuck!"


With that, Travis shot jets of cum over my naked form, the first volley
landing across my lips, the second on my chest and stomach, and the third,
fourth and fifth covering my pubes and aching cock. He then fell on top of
me, trapping his goo, and our cocks, between us. He slowly humped his
soften dick against my stiff little nail, his jizz supplying the perfect
lubricant.

"Hold on, hold on," he panted, rolling off of me. I groaned, this time in
disappointment. Travis lay on his back beside me, his legs dangling off the
edge of the bed. "My dick's getting too sensitive, sorry."

I gripped my own dick, but Travis immediately pushed it away. "No, don't,"
he croaked, exhibiting what I briefly perceived as a streak of cruelty. But
then he rolled onto his side and took my dick into his hand. Lying his head
against mine, he began to squeeze and stroke the cum-covered cock. "You're
a fucking mess," he chuckled. He was right, but I didn't give a damn. "You
gonna shoot your load for me, K?"

"Fuck, yeah," I replied, thrusting upward to meet his strokes. "Gonna blow
my load for you!"

"Give it to me, fucker," he ordered, jerking me faster. "Shoot it now!"

And I did. With no warning beyond an "Oh," my hips bucked and my cock
erupted, arcing cum over my chest and stomach, and then oozed over Travis'
fist.

"Holy shit," he laughed. "You shot cum on my face." I looked at him, and
indeed there was a streak across his cheek. "You better clean it up."

I leaned over and ran my tongue across Travis' face, removing the mess I --
we -- had made. He raised a cum-covered hand to my mouth, and I cleaned
that up, too. He then collapsed onto his back again. "Jesus, man," he
sighed. "That was fucking awesome."

"Yeah," I breathed, "and messy."

We lay there, silent, listening to the sounds of the dorm coming to
life. "Wake and bake?" Travis asked. He found his pants, and fished his
weed and pipe out of one of the pockets. Smiling, he presented them as if
he'd uncovered buried treasure. "Can we?"

I'd never smoked in the room, and had to consider what preparations needed
to be made. I figured opening a window and placing a towel along the bottom
of the door would be a good start. When I'd finished, I turned to see
Travis sitting Indian-style on my bed. He patted the space next to him, and
then packed some weed in the bowl. I climbed onto the bed, and sat facing
him, our crossed legs touching. Our sticky cocks had wilted; cum spotted
our bodies like spackle.

Travis inhaled deeply, coughed and then pressed the pipe to my lips. I took
a hit and exhaled. Smoke drifted toward the open window, the smell of pot
mixing with that of sex. We traded the pipe back and forth for a few
minutes, until we were interrupted by a knock at the door.

I froze, and pressed a finger to my lips as Travis tried to fan away the
lingering smoke. I thought if we were quiet, the would-be intruder might
wander away. He didn't.

"Keith?" came the muffled voice. "It's Ryan ... from next door."

I jumped up off the bed and pivoted one way, and then the other, unsure of
what to do.

"Man, I know you're in there."

I looked at Travis, who could only offer an exaggerated shrug. Naked and
sticky with cum, I crept to the door. "Yeah?" I croaked.

"Can you open up?"

I kicked the towel out of the way, and opened the door just a crack, hoping
to hide both my nakedness and a nude Travis, sitting only a few feet away
on my bed. "Oh, hey, Ryan," I said as casually as possible. "What's up?"

Although I didn't know Ryan very well, he was always friendly. A member of
the golf team, he frequently practiced his putting in the hallway late at
night, wearing only his boxers. He was easy on the eyes, so I didn't mind
the sound of balls -- golf balls, that is -- hitting the door. Ryan was
dressed in his usual uniform of a sweatshirt and khaki shorts, with a
backpack slung over his shoulder, suggesting he was heading to breakfast
and then to the library or class.

He leaned in and whispered, "I can smell the weed out here. You better
spray air freshener or something before the R.A. sniffs it out."

"Oh! Sorry, yeah," I replied, relieved. "Thanks for that, Ryan."

"No problem," he said, suddenly unable to meet my eyes. "Um, also ..."

"Yeah?"

"You and your ... friend ... are kind of loud."

To be continued ...