This story is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to people, living or dead, is entire a coincidence. As the author, I retain all rights to this story, and it cannot be reproduced or published without explicit consent from me. This work is copyright © 2014 by Steven Wells.
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SAM AND CHRIS
Chapter 1: The Meeting
I was into my second week of my freshman year at the University of Illinois. I had to piss like crazy. It was all of the coffee I had drank this morning studying for my much hated Chemistry 101 class. So, after a prolonged lecture, I dashed out of the chemistry lecture hall and headed to the student union. I raced downstairs where I knew there was an underutilized men's room. I picked the first urinal, unzipped my fly and fished out my cock. I let loose as soon as I had my uncut cock pointed at the urinal. God, I needed that! I said to myself as I shook the remaining piss from my dick.
I looked around the empty men's room and selected a stall and closed the door. Not only did I need to piss, I had two days-worth of cum in me and needed to relieve myself of that, too. I hadn't become comfortable enough with my new roommate, Sawyer, to establish the jerk off routine. I was going commando and quickly dropped my cargo shorts and started to play with my semi-erect uncut cock. I was grateful I didn't need lube unlike some of my circumscribed dorm mates.
I had my cock hard in no time and was busy "doing the deed" when I heard the men's room door open. I heard footsteps and soon heard the door to the next stall open. I saw the guy's size 10 sneaks settle in and watched as he dropped his shorts as well. Fuck! I said to myself. I was getting close to popping my load.
I had heard from some of the guys in the dorm that one needed to be careful of some of the remote john's on campus. A few guys, I had heard, went to these johns to find others interested in having sex with other men. I hadn't been given a list, but I knew this was a pretty remote restroom facility as it was in an underused section of the union.
The guy next to me started to tap his foot. `What the fuck does that mean?' I asked myself. `Oh well!' I tapped back.
The guy in the next stall slid a note under the partition. I took the crumpled piece of paper and read it. "Meet me outside." So, being a horny, inquisitive dude, I pulled up my cargo shorts, undid the door lock, and headed to the wash basins. A really handsome—no gorgeous—6' tall black dude came out of the other stall and walked to the sink next to the one I was using. He was wearing a really tight tank top that showed off his well-built arms and chest. His legs were like tree trunks. Fuck! I almost came in my cargo shorts.
"Hi. I'm Chris," he said.
"I'm Sam," I replied. We both finished washing our hands.
"New here?" the hunk said.
"Yeah! I just started here about two weeks ago. I have a chemistry class in the chemistry building. I just finished the class and needed to take a leak."
"Ah! Chemistry can do that to a guy. I'm a junior. Music and dance. But, I had to take chemistry too my freshman year. I just finished my last class of the week and decided to use the facilities. I'm glad I did. Do you have any more classes today?"
"No," I said. "I'm done for the week."
"Want to get some coffee and talk?"
"Sure. I'd like that," I said. `What did a tall, handsome man like him want with a freshman like me?' I thought to myself.
"Want to go to the Starbucks down the street?" He asked.
"Sure." We both grabbed our backpacks and headed up the stairs and out the door of the Union.
As we started our walk to Starbucks, my new `friend' asked, "What's your major?"
"Computer Science," I replied.
"A computer geek! A nice looking computer geek! I could have used your help last year. I'm a bust at computers."
We walked a little further and started to cross the street. "Where do you live?" Chris asked.
"Lincoln dorm. I think they put all of the computer geeks there." I replied. "You?"
"I live off campus. I couldn't stand the dorms and got my place about two blocks from Starbucks my sophomore year. It's more private, if you know what I mean."
"Yea. This is the first time in my life that I have to share a room and a bathroom with someone. I'm not sure how I'm going to like it, but I have to live there for the first year. So, I just have to make the best of it."
We arrived at the Starbucks and he opened the door for me. `Wow! Such a gentleman!' I thought to myself. He strode over to the corner of the place where he spotted an open table.
"How's this?" Chris asked me.
"Terrific!" I enthused.
"What do you want? It's on me." Chris added.
I started to protest. "Nope. We upper classmen have to be hospitable to the new crop of freshmen."
"Black dark roast, then," I said. `Crop!' I thought to myself. `Now, I'm a crop. Shit!'
"Black dark roast it is," Chis said as he smiled a wicked little grin.
Chris quickly came back with two coffees, and sat down next to me. `God! His tree trunk legs were breathtaking. I guess he gets that from being in the dance program. Maybe that explains the rest of his well-muscled body as well,' I thought.
"I don't like to waste time. So... how long have you been out?" Chris asked.
"Am I that obvious?" I asked.
"I have good gaydar. I'm usually pretty correct. Am I wrong?"
"No," I replied. "You're not wrong. I'm gay. I came out to my best buddy my sophomore year in high school. He thought it was cool."
"The rents were next," I continued. "I had absolutely no clue as to how they would handle the news. They've been surprisingly supportive. Even though they've both lived all of their lives in my small, rural hometown, they travelled a lot. My parents even knew some gay people. I think from my mother's college days. My mom started attending a PFLAG group near where we lived."
"I only wish the rest of the school and community was as supportive," I went on. "I stayed pretty much in the closet until near the end of my junior year in high school. Then, it was downhill. I got the crap beat out of me once in the fucking hallway of the school. The principal was a big douche bag of homophobe and did absolutely fucking nothing about the beating."
"My mother went on a rampage! First, police and, then, the principal and administration. The school board was her last stop. She even talked to a lawyer about suing. I was very proud of her, but I don't think she made any friends along the way."
"Fortunately, I had a few friends who were on the football team," I continued after taking a few sips of my coffee. "They backed the assholes who beat me up into a very dark corner of the school yard one night. I never seemed to have any trouble from then on. But, I was so happy to get into the U of I and start anew life. How about you?"
"About the same," Chris started to explain. "My parents and I lived in Peoria, Illinois until I was a junior in high school. My father was an executive at Caterpillar. My dad found out that I was gay during the last few months of my sophomore year from the minister at my parents Baptist Church. The minister's son, Luke, was my first true love. We had an amazing time with each other until his dad his dad, the Very Reverend Charles Binghamton, found some rather graphic text messages between us. Being the ever so `righteous' man, the good reverend immediately hurried over to visit my father, one of the high ranking leaders of the church. Needless to say, my parents didn't take it well."
"The proverbial shit hit the proverbial fan and the rest is history," Chris went on. "Not only was I interested in music and dance and not sports and shit, but I was gay, too. So, after a lot of yelling and screaming about me and the evils of Satan, I was sent off to live with my maternal grandparents in Chicago after I finished my sophomore year in high school. My grandfather is an attorney and my grandmother teaches art history at Northwestern. They are a little more open-minded in most respects than my parents—especially my father. They even belong to a same-sex relationship accepting church."
"I started my junior year at Francis Parker high school. I joined the gay and straight alliance and everything," Chris continued his explanation. "I was in the chorus, school plays, the orchestra, theater. I was having a really terrific time. No one really seemed to give a shit that I was gay or that I was black. Back in Peoria, being a black guy was bad enough. But being gay? That was just a deal breaker."
"I found a boyfriend during my senior year in high school. We went to the prom together. Unfortunately, he was white. I was black. His father was a racist. His father forced him to attend the Ivy League school in MA, which happened to be Harvard. We've talked, but drifted apart. I saw him this summer. He's still the same lovable guy, but his dad is the same racist asshole." Chris sighed as he took a couple of gulps of his coffee.
"My father still doesn't speak to his gay son. My mother writes and occasionally visits. I haven't seen her for about six months though." He paused before taking the next step. "Do you have a boyfriend?"
"No. Unfortunately," I said. "It's hard to develop a relationship in a small, rural area in Southern Illinois. But, I hope I can find someone now that I'm here. Not that Champaign Urbana is a hot bed of urban chic, but it beats where I'm from. Do you—have a boyfriend, I mean?"
"Not right now," he answered. There was that smirk of his again. An exceedingly sexy smirk. "You have had sex with other men, right?"
I hesitated but said, "Yes. I have had sex with other men." I didn't want to offer too much information.
"And, what turns you on?" He kept up with his sexy smirk.
After a pause, I continued, "I haven't had that much experience. My best buddy and I gave each other blow jobs. He's gay, too... I gave blowjobs on a fairly regular basis to some of my `straight' friends after school sometimes when their girlfriends weren't `putting out.' Three of them fucked me from time to time. Other than that, my constant companion has been my right hand."
I paused and took another sip of coffee then continued, "And, if I can be so bold, what turns you on?"
"Basically sex, sex, sex, and sex," he said with a big smile. "My last boyfriend was a bottom. That worked out well until I found him in bed with some other dude and threw his ass out. My previous boyfriend was a top. That didn't last long because we both liked the same things." Chris paused for a while as he sipped his coffee. "I like to fuck. I like to get sucked. Other things. I do have a kinky side from time to time... Maybe I've said too much. I don't want to scare you. I like you... I think you're cute."
`Cute,' I thought to myself. `This hunk thinks I'm cute. Shit.'
"Cat got your tongue?" he asked after a pause in the conversation.
"No. I was just thinking. You didn't scare me. I don't know what I like. I've never fucked anyone. Marty, he's my best bud, and I did a lot of 69ing. We never got around to fucking. I've only been fucked by my `straight' high school buddies. So... I don't know what I like." I replied.
"I understand. Growing up in Chicago had its advantages, I guess. I had a few more experiences in high school, perhaps. It wasn't until I was here in college that I started dating different guys... Not that there have been many." Chris laughed as he added the last part.
"So, you think I'm cute?" I finally managed.
"Yea! Really cute!" he said softly with the evil smirk on his face again.
"I've never been told I'm cute. `Get your mouth on my dick, bitch.' But never cute."
"Well, I think you are definitely cute," he said. "I might tell you to `Get your mouth on my dick, bitch' too. But, I think you are cute as hell."
"Thanks," I said as I took a sip of coffee.
"I've got to run, Sam," Chris finally said. "I have a few things I need to do. I would like to see you again, though."
"Really?" I said somewhat baffled.
"Yes, really," Chris continued. "When are you free?"
"Weekends, generally," I replied. "I have this bitch of a computer science class that I spend a great deal of time figuring out what the professors don't tell you."
"Can we exchange phone numbers?" Chris asked.
"Sure," I replied. We exchanged phone numbers.
"By the way," Chris said. "What's your full name?"
"Samuel Osborn Williamson," I replied.
"Nice to meet you, Mr. Williamson," Chris said with a big grin. "I'm Christopher Allen Johnson."
"I need to go back to my place a couple of blocks from here and get my car, Mr. Williamson. I could give you a lift back to the dorm if you'd like," Chris offered.
"Sure," I said wanting to spend as much more time with my new friend as I possibly could. "I'd like that Mr. Johnson."
"Okay, then. Let's jet," Chris said as we dumped our empty coffee cups.
We gathered up our back packs and headed out the door. Chris's apartment was, indeed, just a few blocks away. We walked toward a like new black BMW 335i and Chris clicked open the doors.
"Nice ride," I said as Chris opened the passenger door for me.
"Thanks," Chris replied. "Gramps wanted me to have reliable transportation."
Chris soon pulled up in front of my dorm and exited the car. I did the same.
"So, can I call you later tonight?" Chris asked. "I should be finished around 10 tonight. Maybe we could get together tomorrow?"
"I'd like that," I said. "I have to do some work for some of my classes tomorrow, but I will definitely be finished early afternoon. There is only so much studying I can do at one sitting."
"Great," Chris said as he reached over and touched my shoulder. "I'd kiss you, but I'm not sure if you're ready for that yet... in public at least."
"Maybe you're right," I said sheepishly. "I'll look forward to your call."
As I started toward my dorm, I decided I needed to say more. I turned around and said, "Chris. Thanks for everything, including the coffee. I really enjoyed our little talk."
"Yea," Chris said. "I did too."
To be continued...
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