All summer, as its end drew near, the anticipation grew to a fearful level. A rollercoaster of emotions roiled around inside of Oliver as the day of his departure for college went from months away, then weeks away, till only days away. On one hand, he was going to be on his own for the first time. Able to make his own decisions on everything from what to wear, what to eat, to who he could hang out with and when. He imagined the moment when his parents would leave him at the university, and he could be himself. The person he had been hiding for so long.
Then he imagined life in the dorm, with hundreds of other guys, and the old fears rose. Ostracizing by the jocks or the bullying like in high school, or even worse, a dormmate that would be more zealous than his own family. All hell fire and brimstone, condemning half of humanity with primitive notions. The chances were slim for the latter, for he couldn’t believe that narrowmindedness could be on a college campus. But, still, the thought of it lingered, ate at him when he was alone in his room.
Most evenings he would lay on his bed, staring out the window across the backyard daydreaming of what could be possible. A dormmate who was attractive, nice and gay. He imagined a relationship, one hidden within his dorm room away from prying eyes. One safe, secure, something he could give life to in his daydreams. Away from accusations and judgmental eyes.
For years he had let the church and his family make him feel emotional stunted. Afraid of his own body. P.E. had been torture. The struggle not to look, to avoid making eye contact with the other boys when he had been naked, afraid his body would betray him. There were the quick glances, the seeing with peripheral vision, even simple reflections in the mirror that afforded him the opportunity to look at the other boys. To see the different body types, the different levels of maturity and the different cocks.
At home he stood in front of the mirror often, just staring at his own body, seeing the changes occurring to it over the last few years. Even so, he still felt more fourteen than eighteen. A boy, trying to be a man. Naked, he studied himself, the shape of his torso, the curves and angles and the proportions of it. He was lean, narrow in shoulder and hip. And pale. Skin so white and soft he knew he looked like a cliche of a preacher’s son. His dark hair was short, too short but his father never allowed it to have any length.
Then he masturbated. Standing in front of the mirror, touching himself till he grew erect, then taking it in hand. He stood in front of the mirror and defiantly watched how he changed. His cock growing thick and long, filling his hand. His body become more defined as every muscle seemed to be trying to break through his skin. Even the way he held his eyes open, the angle of his head, changed as he made himself more aroused. His breathing grew ragged as his hand became slick.
He wanted to cry out, to just scream at the top of his lungs when he came, but he stifled it, gritted his teeth as he jerked and rocked on his feet with each ejaculation, with the first few wads splattering the mirror.
The day arrived and he loaded up his things in the back of his mother’s Explorer and climbed into the back seat. His father climbed behind the wheel and his mother in the passenger seat. It was a five-hour drive to the university, but his father didn’t want to miss Sunday services at the church, so they were going to drop him off and head back, taking turns behind the wheel. For the drive along the countryside, then along the interstate, Oliver watched the mile markers, counting upward to the one at the exit. It made the drive seem to take forever, giving him all the time he needed to arouse those anxieties and fears, then perversely, the anticipation of being on his own.
At twelve twenty-eight P.M. on the afternoon of August 17th, the Saturday before classes started, Oliver was standing in his dorm room looking out the window. He could see the campus, the undulating terrain with red brick buildings for various schools of study. Down below, in the commons between the dorms, guys were playing tag football. He watched the shirtless bodies, some shiny with sweat. Even from four floors up, he could make out the muscular bodies from the lean ones and he found attraction in both.
Turning back to his room, he saw his dormmate’s belongings were already in place, everything neatly stacked or arranged. There were even things mounted on the wall over the bed. The right side of the room belonged to his dormmate. He moved to the side of bed and looked at the things mounted on the wall. There were photos, drawings and a poster. One photo was of people on some mountain, all wearing backpacks, their faces sweaty, and Oliver wondered which guy was his dormmate. The one on the left with dark hair and glasses, or the one on the right, standing a bit apart from the others with light brown hair. To the right of it was another photo, taken in someone’s backyard during a cookout. The grill smoking in the background as seven people huddled in front of the camera. In one plastic lounge chair was the dark haired guy with a girl in his lap and in another was another guy with blonde hair, letting two girls sit on his lap and in between the lounge chairs, squatting down, was two other guys, one the brown haired guy from the first photo, with his arm around the shoulders of another. Below them, a third photo, taken at a beach, showed just the brown-haired guy, smiling at the camera. Oliver knew he had to be his dormmate.
He looked at the drawings, sketches of old buildings, one he recognized as being in Savannah, sketches of people and mountain ranges, and down near the bottom, only a foot above the bed, one small sketch, about the size of a note card, a nude male figure. ‘Don’t read something into it’ he chastised himself as he looked at the poster. It was an old black and white image taken in Paris, a street scene with the Eiffel Tower in the background.
Desk sat at the foot of each bed, and his dormmate had his arranged. A small shelf sat on top already filled with books. Oliver ran a finger over their spines as he read the titles. Art, Architecture, and a few novels, none of which were familiar to him. He was pleased there was no Bible on the shelves. It seemed like some forbidden fruit, this shelf full of humanity, its owner expressing himself and the world, this earthly sinful world, as his father would call it, shaming any notion in the enjoyment of life. There were two round bins for pens, and each was nearly full. One held sketching pens and pencils, one a thick square piece of charcoal while the other held color pencils. Lifting out a green he saw the name on it, something he had never heard before, wondering how a freshman could seem so knowledgeable already.
Looking across the room he saw the empty desk and unmade bed of his side. It was time to get settled in. To make the other side of the room his.
When the door opened and Oliver’s dormmate came inside he was once again at the window watching the guys in the Common. His bed was made, clothes hung in the closet and put away in the plastic drawers stacked next to his desk. On the desk were notebooks, pens and his class schedule. On the corner were a couple of pictures taken last spring at his grandparents. In one he was sitting in a john boat on the small pond with his grandfather. The other was his grandmother at her quilting frame looking at the camera, smiling to the point of laughing. They were the only personal effects he had set out, and his wall was bare for there was nothing of his old life he wanted on it.
He turned to greet his dormmate and saw the brown-haired guy from the photos, wearing a tank top and shorts, sweating profusely.
“Oliver? I’m Dean.”
“Dean; good to finally meet you.”
“You all settled in?” Dean asked as he scanned Oliver’s side of the room, a slight frown on his face.
“For now,” Oliver responded, realizing how his side of the room must look to Dean. “Were you jogging?” he asked to change the subject.
“No, I was riding my bike. I wanted to scope out where the buildings were for my classes on Monday.”
“I need to do that before Monday.”
“I’d suggest it. I hate searching for a place all in a rush. Hey, I’m going to clean up” said Dean as he pulled out clean clothes.
“I need to go get my books. Is the campus bookstore open on Saturday?”
“Yes, but you might do better with the one off-campus. Wait up and I’ll go with you.”
They returned to the dorm room, Oliver carrying two bags of books for his classes, as Dean continued to tell him of growing up in Asheville and the regular hiking trips taken in the surrounding mountains. All during their walk to the bookstore in town and back, there was a sharing of their life. Oliver had been fascinated by Dean’s life. The adventures in the mountains and the barriers islands of North Carolina, growing up the youngest of three, having two older sisters and his family’s life in Asheville where his father worked as an architect and his mother owned a small used bookstore. It all fit neatly together, this life Dean told of, for his side of the room spoke of it.
For Oliver, it had been harder to tell Dean about his own life, afraid of how it would sound. Afraid he’d be painted as some zealot who would be unwilling to have fun, afraid to experiment, try new things, as he found himself in the college atmosphere. He didn’t want to be that person, but he was afraid he didn’t know how to be anything else. Slowly, bit by bit, he told Dean of his father, the preacher and his mother, the devoted wife and in the telling, his tone of voice, the way he laughed sarcastically far too often, he indirectly told Dean something else.
He wasn’t like that.
Books neatly laid out, those needed for Monday in a separate stack, he swiveled around and looked over at Dean laying on his bed.
“You have a girlfriend back in Asheville?”
“No…there’s no one” Dean responded. “What about you? A girlfriend waiting back in Ander…Andu…”
“Andalusia. And no.”
“Boyfriend?”
Oliver looked at Dean shocked, wondering if he had said something, some little comment that gave himself away. Dean looked at him, then burst out laughing.
“I’m kidding” Dean exclaimed.
“Oh…no, I don’t have one of those either” Oliver replied, laughing for the first time, realizing it was all a joke.
“Well, just for record, if you get either one, you have to bring them by for an inspection. We can’t let you date the wrong type.”
“Okay…will do.”
They quieted down, Dean turning on the television and flipping it to a movie that was already in progress. Oliver went to his bed and lay back. He tried to find the storyline, figure out what was happening, but he didn’t’ know the movie and he felt his long day, suddenly fatigued by his early rise, the long car ride then the walk into town. He settled down on his bed, arms behind his head, fighting to keep his eyes open. The sound of the television died down and the room seemed to grow darker. Oliver closed his eyes as his breathing fell into a slow rhythm. He shifted on the bed, sighed once and let sleep overtake him.
The images came in fragments, randomly, overlapping, with no sequence based on reality. Only their sexual nature linked them. There were naked guys, faceless, only bodies with erect cocks. One recognizable face came into focus, then another, all guys on his floor. He was naked, lying on his bed as they approached. He felt as if he should move away from them, back up into the corner of his bed, or jump up and run. Instead he lay frozen in place. He couldn’t see his own cock, but he felt it, the ache of arousal so great he wanted to cum.
Then he felt the soft enveloping of his cock. The hot, slick feel of it. He struggled against it then pushed up to it, wanting the stimulation to increase. The dream cycled over and over, and he began to wake from it, thinking it wasn’t real. But it was real. He felt the soft hair of someone’s head moving on his cock, the sensation of a mouth sliding up and down its length. He struggled to wake, to surface from the dream. To come back into reality.
He opened his eyes and saw Dean leaned over sucking him. Up and down on his cock. He struggled to regain his senses, to wake fully while fighting the rising urge to cum. He was too far along, to aroused, the stimulation too great. He grunted and struggled to sit up as he erupted. He felt the suction of Dean’s mouth on his cock, drawing out his load as he struggled to stop.
He ejaculated again as he pushed Dean off his cock, causing him to land on the floor on his ass.
“What…what…what are you doing?”
“I thought…I…I thought you would want it” Dean replied, turning a deep red in the face.
“NO…no…no…not like this…no…too soon…now…why…” Oliver replied, stammering incoherently as he got his jeans and boxers back into place. He jumped up and ran out of the door, leaving Dean sitting on the floor.
Along the corridor, down the stair and through the small lobby he raced through the building till he was outside. He ran. He ran without consciously thinking of where he was heading. Just away from the dorm. The light of the day was nearly gone, the sun already below the horizon. Lights along walks and around buildings were on, their light beginning to take shape as night fell over the campus. Running through the shadows, muttering to himself, Oliver felt suddenly exposed.
He turned down a narrow path between two older buildings till he came out into a patio area where he stopped. Breathing hard, hands on his knees, he tried to calm himself. It was foolish, the way he responded, and he knew it. What had Dean done that he hadn’t fantasized about before. What made him run? He knew it was old fears. Fears of being different, exposed as such and open to tormenting.
He stood straight and looked around. He had no idea where he was at on campus at first, then realized the building to his left was one of the older dorms on campus and in front, the original student union building, still in use with study rooms and a gaming area. Inside he saw a few students hanging out, small groups playing games or just sitting in circles talking among themselves. He started to head back when he realized he really had to piss. At first, he was going to wait till he got back to his dorm but knew it was further than would be comfortable, so he headed toward the double doors in front of him.
Not sure where the toilets were located, he scanned the walls to his right, then along the back till he saw the sign over a corridor. It was a long corridor, making two turns along its length, before coming to two toilets. The doors were metal and beat up, and like the corridor itself, needed painting. Pushing in, the door squeaked open and he found the room dark. It took a second to find the switch, it located further from the door than normal and old fluorescent lights buzzed on, one tube flickering.
Oliver went around the partition wall into the main room. Lavatories lined one wall, with a mirror above, rough along its edges and cracked along one corner. On the opposite wall were three stalls and two urinals, both of which were covered with a piece of cardboard. ‘Out of Order’ scrawled on them.
He raced into the first stall and let the door swing freely behind him, thinking there was no way anyone would use this facility unless they had to. He pissed freely, the sound of it loud in the hard-tiled room. When finished he washed his hands, then braced them on the counter and stared into the mirror. He saw the thirteen-year old boy sitting on the ground watching other boys play volleyball at a church function and he shamefully fascinated by them. He saw the scared boy of fourteen, trying to hide the male fashion magazine he had snuck in. He saw the sixteen-year old boy being bullied at a football game by some boys from the visiting school, the taunt of faggot still ringing in his ears. He saw the boy of eighteen, away from home for the first time waking to his dormmate sucking his cock and freaking out about it.
“Get it together” he uttered to himself. It was just a blowjob, something he wanted. In fact, he wanted more.
The door squeaked open and he quickly went to washing his hands again, afraid of being seen staring into the mirror. He saw in its reflection a guy come in wearing cut-off sweatpants and a tank top. The guy smiled at him and he smiled back, thinking nothing of it. The guy went into the stall directly behind him and pushed the door closed, but the latch never clicked into place. Why he stood there Oliver didn’t fully know. He had thought the guy attractive with his shaggy blonde hair and stocky build. Attractive in a way that intimidated him.
‘Get out of here before you seem like a creep’ he thought to himself as he stood up straight, ready to leave. The stall door swung open and he gasped at the sight before him. The guy had removed his tank top and was sitting on the toilet with his gym shorts around his ankles, stroking a hard cock. Oliver stood transfixed, watching the guy’s hand move up and down. He didn’t see the guy smirk knowingly or realize the guy leaned back exposing himself more, for his eyes were on the hard cock, dark skinned, much darker than the surrounding tone. The head was arrow shaped and capped a thick shaft.
“You like?” the guy whispered.
Oliver didn’t respond for he hadn’t even heard what was said.
“Why don’t you come here and let me do this to you” said the guy as he stroked his cock faster for a moment.
Oliver was robotic in the way he walked toward the open stall, slowly, slightly off-balance, till he was just inside the door. The guy reached out and took a hold of his waistband right in front, fingers tantalizingly close to his cock, and pulled him closer till he stood between the guy’s spread legs. Up close he saw the dark brown eyes looking up at him then the mischievous smile. Hands worked his jeans loose, tugged on them till everything was around his thighs, and his cock rising up half hard.
“Nice” the guy uttered as he took Oliver in hand, stroking him till fully erect. Oliver closed his eyes and focused his entire being on the sensation. The stroke upward and down and the rub over the sensitive head that made him ball up his fist. Then he felt it, the now familiar feel of a mouth on his cock. It plunged down its length till it had all of him. The hands held him by the hips and guided him to rock back and forth, to push forward sinking deeply into the slick recesses of the mouth, then pull outward till only the head remained within, the tongue swirling around it.
Oliver moaned and the sound seemed amplified in the small room.
He got into the rhythm of fucking the guy’s mouth and the hands let go. He moved slowly at first, pushing inward till he felt the guy’s face press into his abdomen. But he couldn’t keep the pace, his need for more stimulation driving him to speed up, to increase his pace till there were times he made the guy gag.
A hand came up and circled his drawn-up sac and tugged down on it, painfully, and he thrust into the guy’s mouth, pushed inward as far as he could and came. He felt every ejaculation, pumping the guy’s mouth and throat full of cum, till he was finally spent. He began to pull out when the guy’s hand stopped him, held in place with just the head of his spent cock in his mouth. He felt the tongue probe the head of his cock, felt a hand milk the shaft and that mouth lock down on him, suctioning out the last of his load. It was too much, far too much, and he pulled free staggering back out into the room, his jeans and boxers around his legs.
The guy laughed and wiped his mouth. “Thanks” and the stall door was pulled closed.
Stumbling across the patio, Oliver checked his jeans for the fourth time making sure they were buttoned and zipped. He looked around to see if any of the other students were watching him, pointing his way and laughing or leaned in close together to gossip about him coming from that toilet. Everyone was as before, only his own imagination making something out of the situation.
Down the narrow walk back out to the plaza that splits the campus he looked to his right, then left wondering which way to go. He realized he had been running in wide arcs across campus, not a straight line, for the direction he needed to go was straight ahead. The two tallest buildings on campus rose up before him and he recognized that his dorm complex was on the opposite side. Following the secondary sidewalks, he made his way toward them.
The campus was eerily quiet, very few out. There were a few guys bicycling around and three couples out for a stroll, otherwise he was alone. He cut past the chemistry building and around the science labs till he came to a small park. At first, he was surprised to see it, but remembered it on campus maps, running along the eastern border of the campus, following a stream. The botany and horticulture departments kept it up and he saw, even in the dark, that it was a lush, beautiful place. He knew the path wove through the narrow park down to near his dorm complex, so he cut off the main walk and followed the path. After walking a few minutes, the path alternating in light and dark from the spaced-out pole fixtures, he heard water cascading over rocks or some other feature. He went toward the sound, following a narrow path down to a small deck cantilevered out over the stream. He leaned over the railing and looked down into the dimly lit stream and saw the rock feature at a severe drop in its bed. He stared at the moving waters, the white noise of it soothing. Then he heard someone to his right.
Startled he turned and saw a guy leaning on the railing under low limbs of an understory tree. Wearing running shorts and tank top, the guy was staring back as he wondered how to acknowledge him.
“Hey” Oliver finally uttered in a low, nervous voice.
“Hey…what are you doing out?”
“Just walking. I was heading back to my dorm and…decided to cut through the park.”
“Enjoying your walk?”
“It’s okay. The campus is really quiet.”
“I know; I like it this way” the guy replied, kicking off the railing and moving out from under the tree. Oliver saw he was dark haired with dark skin that seemed to absorb the light. “I’m Chaske.”
“Oliver.”
Chaske moved closer till he was next to Oliver, leaning on the railing. They were both looking back up the path barely a foot apart. Oliver tried not to look but he couldn’t stop himself and he turned his head slightly and looked over at this guy next to him. Tall, lean, seemingly darker than reality in the cover of night. He saw Chaske reach down and tug on his cock, manipulate it through the thin running shorts. He swallowed hard, wondering if Chaske heard him. He felt the stirrings of his own cock, the discomfort of it trapped in his boxers and he tugged on it to adjust it, giving it room to stretch out.
It was the signal Chaske was looking for.
“You like to play?”
Oliver started to ask ‘what?’ but knew what Chaske meant. He stood frozen in place unable to respond.
“It’s okay…you don’t have to say anything” and Oliver felt fingers brush against his hips, then touch him with more pressure. They moved around and over till they were touching his cock, feeling the thickening shaft. The fingers followed it to the head and squeezed making Oliver moan out loud. “Yeah…just moan for me when you like it” Chaske uttered in a low seductive voice as he moved in front of Oliver going to his knees.
‘What is going on with me?’ Oliver asked himself as he felt his jeans being undone once again, the tug at the button, the pull of the zipper downward and the opening of them, then a hand on his cock manipulating it through his boxers till finally everything was pulled downward and bunched around his ankles. He’d never felt so naked. Even in the cover of darkness he felt more exposed than ever before. His heart raced in his chest and he struggled to control his breathing. But none of it mattered, not with his cock enveloped in another mouth. It sank completely into the heat of the mouth then became exposed again, lips dragging along its length milking it.
Eyes closed, afraid to watch, afraid to admit how much he liked it, Oliver just stood still and let Chaske suck him. Down along his cock, then back up it, lips tight, stroking his arousal. He sensed movement, Chaske pulling off his cock for a few seconds, then back on it. There was an urgency to Chaske’s manipulations, his mouth moving faster and faster. Looking down, Oliver was surprised to see him completely naked, the running shorts and tank top tossed on the deck nearby. His head moved rhythmically back and forth, and it made his cock ache for release.
Chaske stood up and moved up close, kissed him on the mouth, then whispered in his ear.
“Fuck me. I want you inside me.”
Chaske turned around and bent over, hands on each ass cheek pulling them apart, opening himself to Oliver.
“Come on, Oliver…stick me. Shove that fat cock in me” Chaske begged, as he reached back and took Oliver’s cock guiding it to his opening. “Please…Oliver.”
Oliver felt the tightness of Chaske’s opening, its resistance in allowing him entry and it made him more aggressive, more determined to give Chaske what he wanted. He held him by the hips and pushed harder, feeling the head of his cock squeeze through the tightness. He pushed further, feeling the sudden soft heat of Chaske’s hole envelop his cock as it sunk deeper and deeper.
“OH fuck…yeah…put it in me” Chaske exclaimed as he began to push back taking the last of Oliver’s cock.
And Oliver began to fuck.
Some primitive nature took over. This need to feel his cock pleasured by this fuck. The push inward and pull outward, slow at first, feeling every inch squeeze through Chaske’s tightness till he was too aroused, blissfully unaware of anything but his cock inside another guy, plunging into his depths over and over.
His cock seemed to become more erect, painfully so, and he held tight to Chaske as he fucked faster, harder, abdomen bouncing noisily off Chaske’s ass. He heard the whorish moans, the grunts when he thrust especially hard inward, and he heard the soft, urgent mutterings, begging him to fuck harder.
He had no idea why he did it. Never would have considered such a thing, even in past fantasies, but he grabbed Chaske by his long dark hair and pulled him up roughly till he felt Chaske’s hot sweaty back against his chest. It rocked against his chest as he thrust harder and harder inside him. He reached around Chaske for he wanted to feel his cock, to feel it fill his hand. To just hold another guy while he fucked him. It was long and slender and slipped slickly through his hand. It made Chaske grunt louder and rock his hips in rhythm to their fuck.
Chaske shuddered and Oliver felt his opening spasm around his cock. He thrust through it harder, fucked so hard it rocked Chaske forward. The cock in his hand had grew thicker and it flexed rhythmically in his grasp. Chaske was coming, cock ejaculating as he continued to fuck his ass.
“Oh fuck…please…”
Oliver hammered Chaske’s insides till he felt it, the surge of release, and he bearhugged Chaske against his body, arm around his neck and held him tightly as he filled his hole. He didn’t want to stop, didn’t want this sensation to end. He kept fucking till he felt cum trickled down his sac. His cum…pumped back out.
“Stop…no more…stop” Chaske begged him pulling away.
Oliver watched him fall to his knees, breathing hard. Looking down he saw his own cock going flaccid, glistening wetly in the dim light.
“I’ve got to go” said Oliver as he pulled up his boxers and jeans, hurriedly getting dressed. He quickly crossed the deck and started up the path when he stopped to look back. Chaske was on his feet picking up his shorts and tank top. Oliver wondered if he’d see him again. And if he did, what would he say? With the size of the university, he knew the chances were slim and this pleased him in one way but made him feel disappointed in another.
It was time to get back to his dorm. Enough of this insanity he thought as he went from walking fast to jogging. He jogged till he came to the Commons at his building, then he slowed to a walk trying to catch his breath. He was sweating, his shirt sticking to his back and chest. Inside the dorm was a hive of activity for it was only eleven o’clock, far too early for a bunch of guys now on their own to be turning in for the night. Up the stair he came out on his floor and saw it was just as busy as the lobby and lower floors. He heard gaming and movies coming out of one door or the next, guys roughhousing each other, one chasing another down the corridor trying to spray him with a soda. It seemed every door was open. Every door but his own.
Easing the door open slowly, he looked inside but the darkness was too great to see. He stepped in and eased the door closed. Moonlight came in through the window and the silhouette of Dean became visible. He was sitting in front of the window staring out.
“I was afraid you wouldn’t come back?” said Dean without turning.
“Of course I would come back. Why wouldn’t I?”
“I assumed things went too far earlier. Why else would you take off…”
“That isn’t why?”
Dean swiveled around and his shadowed outlined faced Oliver. “It’s not?”
“I’ve never done…nothing like that ever happened before. I just wasn’t ready.”
“I’m sorry, Oliver. I didn’t mean to…”
“Stop. It’s okay now. I just needed time to think.”
Oliver crossed the room and stood by Dean. He reached out, hand shaking, wondering if he should, if it was appropriate. He wanted to so bad. A deep breath and he combed his fingers through Dean’s hair, till he was holding him by the back of head. He angled it upward bringing them face to face, the moonlight striking half of Dean’s face, the shadows sharp against the slivery glow of the illuminated half.
“I’m sorry I freaked out” Oliver whispered as he leaned down and kissed Dean.
It was a short gentle kiss, and afterward he stood.
“I’m going to take a shower and get some clean clothes on and go get something to eat.”
“It’s after eleven?”
“I know but I’ve not had dinner and there is supposed to be a pizza joint on 4th Street open late. Have you had dinner?”
“No…I was waiting for you to come back.”
“Let’s go eat, then we can…talk.”
It was late, after one in the morning when they made it back to the dorm. Over pizza they had talked about what happened, and Oliver’s fears and reluctance. It was the first serious conversation Oliver had ever had about his sexuality, thus he struggled at first to describe his emotions and desires. Dean was more open, freely discussing coming out in high school, even admitting to coming out to a couple of the guys on their floor before Oliver arrived. On the stroll back to the dorm their conversation took on a lighter tone. Their favorite games, the upcoming releases they were eagerly anticipating, movies, books, then jokingly the guys they thought were cute and doable on their floor.
There were guys still up when they got to the dorm. In the lobby the television played some action flick and arriving on their floor they found doors open with the sound of gaming or movies playing. But it was quieter, none of the roughhousing from earlier. They made their way down the corridor, speaking to some of the guys, till they stood at their door. Dean went in first and Oliver followed. He closed the door and locked it.
Dean went to the window, leaning on the sill and looked out over the campus with its scattered glow of night lights. Oliver moved across the room slowly, removing his clothes as he went. Naked, he moved up behind Dean and pressed his body against him. He kissed the back of Dean’s neck as he wrapped his arms around the him.
“Guess what?” Oliver whispered, then mouthed Dean’s left ear, tongue following its curvature, then teeth taking the lobe and tugging on it. Dean shivered and pushed back against him.
“What?”
“It’s only my second day as a freshman” Oliver whispered as he began to undo Dean’s shirt. When it fell open, he ran his hands over the bare chest and stomach. His hands moved smoothly over the firm skin. He felt the undulation of Dean’s breathing then a shivering from his touch.
Oliver stepped back and slipped Dean’s shirt from his shoulders. He rubbed Dean’s back, hand circling lower and lower till raking along the top of his cargo shorts. The waistband tightening, preventing him from slipping his fingers behind it, then it loosened, pulled away from Dean’s waist and falling to the floor. Dean had undone them. Oliver wasn’t satisfied and he pushed Dean’s boxers down till they fell on top of the shorts. He rubbed his hands over the firm round cheeks then around the narrow waist till his fingers combed through pubic hair then touched the base of Dean’s cock. He felt along its elongating length till he could manipulate the head making Dean shiver and moan.
Dean pushed back till against his body as he toyed with him. He manipulated the growing erection, tugged on it, rubbed the head till Dean begged him to stop. He kissed Deans’ shoulder and dragged his tongue over the smooth skin till his nose ran through Dean’s hair and his lips kissed the back of his neck.
Dean leaned over, pushed his ass back against Oliver. Oliver moved his cock down and pressed it against Dean, pushing against the tightness.
“Do it, Oliver; put it in me…please” Dean whispered as he pushed back.
Oliver felt the head of his cock squeeze through Dean’s tightness and he shuddered with the feel of it. He wanted to push in all the way and knew he would, slowly, gently, till Dean had all of him. He held Dean by the waist and kept pushing, feeling each inch squeeze through. He struggled with the way the tightness milked his cock, pushing his arousal till his heart was racing in his chest. He was conscious of nothing but Dean, just Dean before him, taking his cock. Dean wanted it, this penetration, and he held his waist and pushed till fully buried inside him. He felt the soft heat that enveloped his cock.
Pulling back slowly, he felt Dean shivering. He pulled till only the head remained inside, then he pushed back in. Slowly, working each inch through the tightness. Over and over he worked his cock inside Dean till he felt it, a loosening to his penetration and Dean working his ass back and forth trying to increase their pleasure.
“Fuck me…come on Oliver. Don’t make me beg. Fuck me” Dean pleaded as he worked his ass on Oliver’s cock.
Oliver held Dean by the waist and began to fuck, to drive inward faster, harder, till his abdomen smacked against Dean’s ass. He rocked Dean roughly, pushed his head down and hammered cock into his depths.
Across the Commons, in the darkest of windows, four pair of eyes watched. Watched the naked guy rock seductively with movements painfully obvious in their primitive rhythm. They watched as he was pushed to the window, hands on the glass. They watched his cock bounce in rhythm with their fuck. They watched and stroked their own cocks. They hadn’t been this hard in a long time, so hard their cocks ached with the need for release. Their hands moved wetly along their rock-hard shafts as their eyes stayed glued to the naked body. It aroused them so, it scared them. To be so aroused by another guy, naked, getting fucked. They questioned their own sexuality, what it was that aroused them. Was it the rawness of it? Or the physical nature of it?
They saw an arm circle the guy’s neck and pull him upright as his hips rocked roughly from being fucked. His cock bounced violently up and down till another hand took it, stroking it roughly. They swore they could hear the guy getting fuck cry out. Swore they could hear him beg for it, plead to be fucked harder, only to realize it was their own utterances, their own pleading with the guy to take it. To take all it.
Cum spattered the glass, thick wads that slowly trickled down. There was so much it shocked them. They wished they were in the room. Wished they could hear the sound of the guy’s fuck. They even wished they could smell the ejaculation of it. They imagined it, recalling the smell of their own and the feel of it on their skin. Their own need rose, they felt it building up, rising to a fever pitch.
The guy in the window turned and his partner went to his knees taking the wet cock in his mouth. They watched the move of his head as he took all of it. The cock stayed hard and they wondered how the other guy could withstand it.
The guy on his knees stood up, turned around and bent over. Soon the guy that was getting fucked was doing the fucking. They watched how he slowly worked himself into the other, pushing till their bodies were pressed together. They watched as their pace slowly increased. How long it took, none of them knew. They only knew it wasn’t long enough. The fuck was increasing too quickly. They could see it. The hard pounding of cock into the other. Fucked so roughly, his own erection swung into view. The rhythm of it keeping pace with their fuck. It was a fast fuck, almost brutal in its physicality.
The four of them renewed their own pace, stroked faster and faster. This time they wanted to cum when those guys came. They watched intently, the power of their fuck. When the one fucking pulled the other upright, wrapped an arm around his neck and held him in place, the four watched as one cock came and went from view and the other bounced up and down. They watched as the guy fucking used his other hand to take that cock, stroking it. They could see the way the naked bodies were responding, shivering with the pleasure of their fuck, skin glistening wetly in the silvery moonlight. They felt their own bodies, familiar with the need for release.
The guy getting fucked threw his head back and they saw the way he cried out, desperately wishing they could hear it. They saw cum arc out of his cock, and shamefully wished they were there, on their knees letting it spatter on their skin…or fill their mouths. They came, all four of them at the same time, unbeknownst to the others. Cum spattered their windows, then the sills as they stroked till spent. For a moment they stood with eyes closed. When they opened them, they saw the guy being held up by his partner, for he looked ready to collapse.
Then they saw them kiss and move back into the darkness of the room.
Oliver woke to the early morning sun coming in through their window. The blinds were still up, and he remembered how they had sex at the window last night. Luckily the light had been off so no one could see them. He looked over at his empty bed as he felt Dean’s body snuggled up against him, wondering if he’d ever sleep in it.
Dean snuggled up tighter to his back, exhalations warm against his neck. He rubbed his hand along Dean’s arm that was draped over him till he could intertwine their fingers together. He fell still and let sleep overtake him, still weary from their exertions earlier this morning.
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