Preface
Try to imagine an earlier time than ours when many sorts of events took place in educational settings and never were discussed publicly, then or thereafter. Lasting harm was not imagined to stem from what essentially were games of role-play, understood as part of the necessary transition from schooling to the ‘real world.’
Roommates – 1957
Judd Eidson moved toward his new roommate. He could already feel the Freshman’s undershirt-clad, skinny back against his stomach’s hairiness. Tried not to. It disturbed him.
Deflty, he crept closer. Sat on the edge of Roy Evans’ single bed. From his position next to the sleeping form, he saw the afternoon sun light Roy’s downy cheek, the question-mark of his exposed ear, the few parallels of skin where his neck was turned – and liked the sight. A lot.
That, too, made him uneasy.
Without so much as a touch, Roy shoveled his knit-clad rear end back and assumed one of those sloping stretches that felines display.
Another provocation. Judd wasn’t ‘that way.’
Roy’s butt-up rear relaxed away as he drowsily crossed his legs at their ankles. A sinuous line curved gently between those limbs and extended with tantalizing attraction all the way to where nearly hairless flesh met pure white cotton.
Commotion built in Judd’s shorts. No eyes – not even his, riveted as they were on Roy – saw Judd pull his personal, shape-gaining contents through their front flap. No ears heard the slapping sound of masturbation.
Guilt hit him with the force of a prison sentence.
PhD candidates in mathematics at the State University were not imagined to be thus inclined. Even less so, one who had served as a hook-and-ladder man in his home town’s fire department for three years. One who had managed savings sufficient that – with his University stipend – he could devote at least two years to the work he loved.
Numbers and symbols were his stock-in-trade along with the power of abstract thinking that overcame most temptations which appealed to unmarried twenty-eight-year-olds. Smoking, drinking, and chasing skirts were pursuits to distract his peers. Spare time he filled with math texts and notebooks. Avidly, he read histories of mathematical discoveries and developments, biographies of famed mathematicians, news accounts in learned journals about theories under heated discussion, and reveled in the mental challenge.
A walking cliché of the perfect scholar. Detached. Objective.
That is, until Roy Evans entered his dorm room during Orientation Week.
Uncertain of himself yet friendly with effort, the seventeen-year-old introduced himself as a music major. Two suitcases clumped heavily to the floor. That he had been assigned a roommate ten years his senior and who had been a fireman intimidated the boy. Shy in every way, he did not know what to do.
“That’s your bed, the single one,” Judd said. “The chest there is yours and the left side of the closet,” to which he pointed. “Stow your stuff.”
The closet’s bi-fold doors were open. Judd’s things, pushed to the right, were neatly hung, shirts and pants apparently matched together, shoes lined up on the floor next to a laundry bag.
A few wood hangers were sufficient to hold everyday wear, bathrobe, and only suit with its matching tie. Roy’s underwear and sox found their place in the dun-painted chest’s top drawer, towels and washcloth in the next, sheets and pillowcases below. With a handful of music scores, he stood blankly before placing them on top.
Nothing to it really, except that Judd’s watching him induced more self-consciousness than had come with him through the lobby-commons room of Irvine Hall, down its Residents-Only corridor and around its corner to the back wing, and into room 102. Roy’s stomach clutched. So many unknowns.
Away from home for the first time, Roy Evans wished he knew what to do next. He put his hands in his pockets before asking, “So, we don’t start classes until Monday?”
“Don’t you have the schedule? You should know that already. If you’re going to ask dumb questions all semester, I’ll ask for your transfer to another roommate.”
“Oh gosh, I’m sorry. It’s just I don’t know how to be a roommate. You know, what’s expected. Will you, uh, show me?” His face flushed attractively.
Heavily shadowed although seemingly recently shaved, Judd’s square jaw clenched.
“Okay, you can sit. I’ll fill you in. This was my room last year, mine only. That’s why I have a double bed and why, now, the place is crowded with the addition of a bed for you and, well, you. Enrollment’s up. The regular dorms overflowed. Those of us on scholarship were the first to be inconvenienced by having to accept a roommate. Irvine Hall’s small, intended for grad students. We need to concentrate. That’s my desk. I hope I don’t have to share it with you.”
“I…I guess I’ll be out a lot, you know, practicing in the music building. I play the piano.” He indicated his scores. “I won’t bother you. Mmm, can I ask, where’s the bathroom?”
Judd signaled Roy to follow him. Easier to show than to tell, for a man of few words.
Doors lay open along the corridor. Mature-looking fellows noticed the pair. Hands waved recognition; faces, curiosity. A boy walked toward them, a boy perhaps slightly older than himself, Roy thought; a boy of striking appearance.
“Hi Dixie,” Judd said. “This is Roy, who just moved in.”
Roy’s eyes took in wavy sun-bleached blond hair, dark brown brows and lashes, tanned skin, blue irises, gleaming teeth, and beautiful face. They shook hands. His new acquaintance said nothing.
“Dixie’s been here a year. He’s Rawsey Woods’ roommate.”
“Who’s that?”
“The campus’ star athlete and Irvine Hall’s monitor. He polices everybody. You don’t want to get on his bad side, do you, Dixie?”
“No, you don’t.” He glanced from Roy to Judd, settling on the elder, “Is he your responsibility?”
“Seems that way. For now. We’ve got to go. See you.”
They entered a swinging door, “Facilities,” to enter a room large enough for alternating lavatories and urinals, a row of toilet stalls, and multiple shower stalls with shoulder-high metal panels for separations. Judd opened one.
“Step in. It’s roomy. That shelf’s for soap and shampoo. Towels,” he said as he backed out, “and anything else hang on this hook outside. Honor system – you never touch another guy’s things.”
“I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t. But I’ve got to pee.”
“Go ahead. Nobody’s stopping you.”
In the uncomfortable moment, Roy swallowed and turned to unzip – under Judd’s steady eye. He strained until the flow came.
“You don’t have to be nervous,” Judd said, a thump to his shoulder. “The way things are in this dorm, most everybody sees everything.”
Roy was definitely nervous. Judd enjoyed it.
“I’ll show you the laundry and the rec room. They’re downstairs. Come.”
Over a cold soda from one of the dispensers, paid for by Judd, Roy sat where his roommate could notice his features. High forehead, pompadour-combed light brown hair barbered short on the sides, eyes of gray, a ready smile now that he had relaxed, and a slender, smooth neck that prominent collar bones set off. Judd’s mind churned slightly at the idea he might be a virgin – and felt funny about it. The skin of his chin and cheeks would not challenge any razor. Their contours – if only Judd’s fingers could trace them.
A peculiar thought.
Roy, replying to a question about his high school days, wondered why Judd seemed distracted. On the verge of asking, he noticed Dixie come in with something in his hand.
“Judd?” Dixie got his attention, “Are you keeping track of your roommate responsibilities? Rawsey’s going to find out tonight when he gets back from football practice. Here, in case you forgot. Be ready around nine.”
A scan of the mimeographed sheet brought color to Judd’s face.
“We’ve got to go back to the room. Come on,” he snapped.
There, sitting on his own bed, he told Roy to remove his clothes. “Be quick about it.”
Dumbly, the Freshman stood not two feet away. Knitting his brow, he unbuttoned his plaid shirt and took it off. Held it to Judd, who took it.
“Open your belt and drop your pants.”
“Why?”
“It’s a rule here,” he showed the instruction. “A roommate responsibility. I have to check you out.”
In knit underwear, Roy’s slim body showed nipple nibs on its chest, a flat tummy, and a narrow waist. Beneath Fruit of the Loom’s elastic waistband protruded a pouch about the same size as Judd’s.
Further study of the typed instructions determined Judd to get on with his responsibility. Outlining his charge’s torso with symmetrical motions over shoulders to sternum, down, outwardly over hardly developed pectorals and around to nipples, Judd felt eerie. When he rubbed the tips and gently pinched, Roy twitched.
The weirdness tongue-tied him. To endure, he stared not at the man but at the room’s blank wall.
Judd’s fingers on his ribs almost tickled laughter from him, which the boy fought. Their trail over his stomach and nearness his mother-termed ‘danger zone not for strangers” made him fearful. A responsive area in any teen, Roy’s was particularly so.
Last year in Irvine Hall, doctorate-minded Judd was dimly aware of goings-on with a couple of Freshman and two – was it three? – three other men in the dorm. They had meant nothing to him. Except for Dixie and Rawsey, they were gone this term.
Now, long-dormant feelings were surging to life and stealing through Judd’s psyche. He clenched his jaw and looked up to see Roy go a little pale as he cupped the boy’s pouch.
“Oh please. That’s…” His protest disappeared as his balls were lifted and dropped, lifted again and dropped, patted from beneath, and his cock stroked – not for long.
“How often do you jerk off?” came the crude shock of Judd’s question.
Rattled, Roy said, “Usually at night, when I’m in bed.”
“Every night?” His cock received a smart swat from Judd’s knuckles.
“Uh-huh.”
“How often have you been spanked?”
Eyes bulging, Roy cleared his throat to answer, “Never.”
“I can spank you at any time, it says so right here. And I must, starting now, so that you feel my authority. Lie over my lap. NOW.”
“Have I done something wrong?” quavered Roy.
“Are you, a musician, deaf?”
Roy did his best, hobbled as his feet were by shoes and pants, clumsily falling over his roommate’s legs.
“Put your hands on the floor. And hold still,” Judd was peremptory. He positioned Roy’s pouch against his right thigh so the boy’s bottom was up and within striking distance. “This is a demonstration.”
Roy grit his teeth.
“You get ten only.” Each landed hard under the flat of Judd’s right palm – in rapid order.
After the demonstration, Judd’s hand rested over the fleshy divide long enough that he knew the boy’s stomach had to feel what, by then, pushed up from his lap. Embarrassed, he barked, “Get up. Put your clothes on and go practice or whatever it is you do.”
Roy was out of there with his music scores in hand. Glad to be safe in a practice room within minutes, he ran through his scales and worked on the second movement of his Beethoven Sonata. When he took a break at the water fountain, a student he had seen at the auditions, Jack Willeford, reintroduced himself. They chatted about Jack’s Chopin Etude in G-flat and Roy’s Moszkowski in F Major.
Together at suppertime, they headed for the campus dining hall. Their talk revealed Jack’s residence to a room he shared with a theater student his age on the third floor of the six-story dorm named after a donor, Joshua Slocum. When he heard that Roy lived in Irvine Hall, he was impressed. “Is that like some great honor or something? I hear that place is for super-brainy grad students.”
“My room reservation got in late, or something,” Roy explained. “I was part of the overflow, so got assigned to Irvine. I’m in a room with a math guy who’s really serious about everything. I have to mind my Ps and Qs. He’s really mature, like ten years older than me.” Not a word about being felt up and spanked.
Jack was sympathetic. “When you want some fun, come over. Slocum’s noisy. Everybody’s radios ’n’ record players are going except after midnight ’n’ people party a lot.”
They ate the cafeteria-line food their meal plans called for and became better acquainted. Another hour of practice aided digestion of meat loaf, mashed potatoes, and broccoli. Each received two peanut butter cookies for dessert when their clean plates were shown to the dining hall monitor. Washed down with cold sweet milk, they caused a few burps and belches to accompany Beethoven and Moszkowski.
The wall clocks hands approaching the hour of nine, Roy gathered his things and made a bee line to Irvine Hall. He found Judd at his desk working. Quietly he placed his music atop the chest and stretched out on the bed.
Judd’s notice took the form, “There you are. On time. I like that. Perhaps you’ll be okay.”
Roy’s eyes glittered. His smile keyed the grad student’s libido. Could innocence do that?
“We don’t have much time. Rawsey will be here in a minute or two. You must be ready. Take off your clothes – mmm – and change your underwear. Make yourself presentable.”
The boy obeyed with reluctance, turning away while he stripped and donned a fresh undershirt and pair of briefs, rather tight fitting, both. His act of obedience treated Judd to a few seconds’ view of male ass rounded as any girl’s. Took away his breath and tightened his chinos.
“Where is he?” a deep voice asked from the doorway. Rawsey Wood. Six-feet-two-inches of twenty-two-year-old gym-manufactured, athletic-field-conditioned burliness, his was a commanding presence anywhere. In Irvine Hall’s room 102, he loomed.
“There,” Judd indicated where Roy stood in awed silence.
Rawsey burdened the double bed by sitting on it. “Let me have a look at you, boy.”
Barefoot and decidedly back on square one about his inspection, if that is what it was, he walked to the giant and stood, arms at his side. Taking a shallow breath, he extended his right hand, “I’m Roy Evans.”
Rawsey looked, then shook it firmly enough to suggest he could crush it. “I’m in charge of monitoring behavior here. You aren’t going to give us any trouble are you Fresh?”
“No, Rawsey, I won’t. I already know to mind Judd. I will.”
“Damn right you will. Now I’m going to check you out. These things – take ’em off.”
The top of Dixie’s head leaned from the hallway. He wanted to see ‘Fresh’ receive his orientation exam.
Naked and eyed from two directions – by Dixie and Judd – Roy took his place, a wary look on his very young face.
“Open your mouth. Wider. I’m going in with three fingers.”
The invasion and pressure down against the back of his tongue came as a shock. He gagged trying make the ‘aaahhh’ doctors expected when using a tongue depressor – only not like this.
“You can be trained, if Judd wants to do it. Now, has he worked on these?” He twisted Roy’s nipples.
Cords stood out in the boy’s neck, his face grimaced in pain, he inhaled through his teeth.
Judd volunteered, “I tried those earlier. A first time for him, like everything here.”
Rawsey paid no heed. He slapped Roy’s left cheek hard enough to leave instant redness. “Judd over there can slap you any time if you’re insolent. Remember that. What you don’t want is a real slap from me. Dixie, get in here and show Fresh your face.”
There was a large handprint on the pretty face’s right cheek, red enough to become a bruise.
“He got that not five minutes ago for being slow. Slow’s a sign of insolence. Remember that. Now gimme your nuts.”
The same hand that has been in his mouth and that had slapped him now surrounded his scrotum. Roy looked down in horror. The athlete’s thick index finger and thumb were gripping just under his penis and tugging his testes – he struggled to think of the proper words – and other fingers were gently squeezing both orbs against a palm rougher than this seventeen-year-old knew existed.
He sweated when they remained in Rawsey’s possession and he was given the instruction, “Jerk yourself, Fresh. I wanna check your dick. Get it hard.”
Rawsey’s left hand reached behind to clutch half the boy’s butt, blunt fingers secure in the warmest place there. It triggered Roy to begin stroking himself up and down. Being held like this excited him. Previously shrunken tissues grew until their six-inch maximum was reached.
That made him feel good. Obedient.
“Okay, you’re ’bout my Dixie’s size.”
And mine, Judd thought.
“Turn around,” Rawsey ordered, letting go. “Whew,” he whistled, “That’s one fine ass. You spanked it yet?”
“Test run. Ten swats. He took them,” Judd responded.
“You work on ’em. Every damn day. Make sure he knows to bend for you. Here that, Fresh? You take what your roommate dishes out if you’re gonna live here. It’s part of his responsibility. And do some goddam exercise. Build yourself up – or,” he said dismissively, standing, “or, I’ll tear your butt up.”
With that and a final nod toward Judd, Rawsey exited brusquely.
Judd saw that his naked roommate was ready to cry. He beckoned, stood, and rather warmly embraced the boy. A hand dropped to the same buttock Rawsey had held onto. “There, there,” he said with parental inflection, patting, holding Roy to him, “you’re worn out. Get in the bed. Prop up on your pillows. I’ll fetch an orange soda from downstairs, like the one you had with me. Then we’ll talk. You take it easy.”
Safe again in his underwear, penis deflated, Roy slipped beneath his sheet. Despite his dither, he realized that Judd was not so bad after all. If he minded Judd, Judd would take care of him in the dorm.
The orange soda’s cold sweet taste cooled him. His favorite drink, especially when his body was hot. And he was hot.
Judd cracked a partial smile. “Our talk has to be postponed. There’s a book I need from the library, which closes at ten. Must rush. You go to sleep. I’ll see you in the morning. I’ll put out the overhead light.”
By Judd’s return, Roy lay on his right side, apparently asleep. Judd stripped, picked up his towel and soap, headed for his evening shower – glad for the calm. Back in no more than fifteen minutes, he continued to towel himself in full view of barely open eyes.
Light came from the switched-on desk lamp.
Black body hair under arms and on lower legs was one thing, but a mat of it covering completely the man’s chest, stomach and groin densely and with gloss – astonished would-be sleeper Roy. Nipples, navel, and penis showed as dark rose through their surround. Until then, that Judd’s hair was jet black had not registered with the boy. Now, he wanted to know how it felt.
He imagined, cushiony. Quite an unusual thought for him. Everything about being in Irvine Hall was unusual.
Roy’s blameless eyes’ narrow view: the serious man naked, looking his way, and plumping ‘down there.’ A question formed, based upon Roy’s naked state when Judd hugged him.
What would it be like if I got up and hugged him now, when he’s naked?
It worried seventeen-year-old freshman Roy Evans.
The room plunged into darkness as Judd extinguished his desk lamp.
Their thoughts disintegrated as fatigue ushered in sleep.
Day broke on Judd first. He rubbed sleepy eyes. Flexed himself to consciousness. Groped his morning erection – and turned toward the boy tangled in bedclothes.
On his back, Roy Evans stirred enough to push away sheet and coverlet. During the night, his undershirt had been discarded. It lay on the floor.
Judd’s visual journey began at his roommate’s unblemished teenage face, moved over slow-breathing hairless chest and oh-so alluring abdomen to arrive at white briefs bulging. Let a guilty sigh, got to his feet, reluctant, unable to resist temptation.
A line from some forgotten literary work drifted errantly to him: “Mine is the dominium.”
Responsibility had morphed past control to possession.
Last night, Rawsey’s ownership of Dixie sowed a strange seed, strange indeed for the noggin of a mathematician. A straight one, nominally, by habituation. Lewd thoughts were gathering. Lust fueled lascivious behavior, unknown until now.
Rights included touching his property, doing with it as he saw fit. That in mind, Judd’s hand formed a cup for Roy’s bulge. His manipulation of it, sublimely simple, aroused the sleeper. Judd eased the briefs’ waistband and redirected navel-ward his charge’s six inches, released the elastic, and returned to feeling soft orbs so like his own.
“Wha…” from the boy was stifled by another hand, Judd’s, over his mouth. Roy’s hips undulated beyond his control. That his roommate was being intimate with him, was taking care of him, in a sense, made him blush – and push into masturbatory fingers, expecting to reach climax under the control of a real man.
Judd chose that moment to be abrupt. He stopped. “Go, take care of this and your shower. Report back to me. We’re going to breakfast.”
By the clock, seventeen minutes elapsed for Roy’s ablutions. “Not bad. Drop the towel. I’ll inspect you.”
No more than a brisk frisk preceded, “Over my lap for your morning spank.”
Roy’s cock and balls dropped between Judd’s legs. Twelve swats found their target in rapid succession – without protest. The flat palm did not dwell.
“Up you go.” Judd’s study of ‘Roommate Responsibilities’ told him what to direct. “No underwear. Any pullover and those baggy shorts I saw you put away. Your choice of footwear.”
Draftiness in his private area unsettled the Freshman but not as much as his roommate’s hand on the back of his neck as they walked together across dewed grass from Irvine Hall to the dining room. They entered, Judd acknowledging the monitor with a nod.
He sanctioned Roy’s choice of citrus sections (orange and grapefruit), scrambled eggs, a sausage patty, toast, and coffee. He had the same.
“Anyone in here you know?”
“I see Jack Willeford with a couple of music majors. I don’t know their names.”
“We’ll join them,” surprised Roy. “You’ll introduce me.”
There was no time to be self-conscious about his loose-legged, bright green shorts.
Jack wondered at the approaching pair. Could that man be Roy’s roommate from Irvine Hall?
He and the others – a male pianist and violinist, and two voice majors, both females (all wearing jeans) – welcomed Roy. For his part, Roy found himself able to present Judd with unaccustomed, fluent confidence.
“My roommate and now overseer, Mr. Judd Edison, doctoral candidate in mathematics.”
Intimidation hovered. Judd spoke as they sat, “I’d like to hear about each of you and your goals. Roy’s, I know. Ladies first.”
The girls, Lotte and Alicia, wanted Broadway careers. “But here, we have to study classical,” Alicia lamented. Lotte put in, “It’s a good foundation.”
Jack admitted he would like a concert career but doubted the possibility. “It’s highly competitive.”
“We’re up against students from Juilliard and Curtis,” Harold said. “I expect I can become a chamber musician. They’re always in demand.”
The ice broken, chat proceeded. Ray was animated to be among musical peers, Judd saw. He looked hard at rangy Jack and wispy Harold, wanting to assess the likelihood either might interfere with his control over Roy.
“You guys, you’re in Irvine?” Lotte asked. “Do you know Rawsey Wood?”
“Sure,” Judd said. “I met him last year in the dorm. Roy met him last night.”
“Ohmigosh, he’s our hero,” Alicia gushed. “Every girl on campus is hot for him.” She looked to Lotte for corroboration, “We never miss a game.”
“’Cause we sing in the chorus for the national anthem,” Lotte completed the information.
So that he wouldn’t have to say anything, Roy chewed a big mouthful of his breakfast. He relied on Judd to deal with the subject.
“Eat your hearts out, ladies. Rawsey’s dating but makes no show of it. They’re quite a couple, believe me. Very committed. None of you stands a chance. It’s all hush-hush because of his focus on football. You understand.”
“But she can’t get into Irvine Hall, can she? It’s strictly residents only, I understand,” Jack said.
Judd studied him before leveling, “When you’re as ‘big’ as Rawsey is at this school, you can get pretty special concessions, believe me. He’ll contend for the majors by Spring. There’s nothing he can’t get. End of conversation. If you’ll pardon us, Roy’s got an exercise program to start this morning. The sooner we get to it, the sooner,” he looked at his boy, “the sooner he’ll get to your practice rooms.”
The parked their trays and flatware. Departed, Judd’s hand finding the back of Roy’s neck as they passed outside.
“Good use of ‘overseer’ back there,” the overseen heard, his neck being squeezed.
On edge about the exercises ahead, Roy asked to stop in the Facilities. Followed and observed, he used a urinal and washed his hands. Rustlings from toilet stalls indicated some were in use. As they left, two upperclassmen entered. They exchanged nods with Judd.
In 102, Roy was immediately bent over Judd’s lap. “Ten this time.”
“This..will..bring..up..your..circu..lation..before..your..squats.” Judd’s palm rubbed through the slick fabric and ran fingers down and back up the shorts’ rear seam.
Instinct tightened boyish glutes.
“You resist my touch? That’s insolent. I should slap your face. Instead, you..get..four..more!”
The door to 102, having been left ajar, passersby heard the swats. One envied Judd.
There was no resistance as, through his shorts, Judd’s thumb pressed into their wearer’s closed ring – and kneaded there. A responsibility not to be neglected.
Summarily, Judd told uneasy Roy where to stand, how to separate his feet and hold his arms in front, parallel to the floor, and to squat as far down as he could ten times.
“Do it. You fail or fall over, I’ll slap your face.”
Determination let Roy succeed.
“All right, back over here and on my lap. Ten more.”
Good to his word, Judd delivered, rubbed, and kneaded.
“Squats again. Feet further apart. Test for balance. Arms straight in front. At my count – one, two, three, four, five, six, seven… You’re weakening. Go on – eight, nine… Can’t you get up?”
Roy vacillated in position, trying. “I wish I could.”
“If that was your best effort,” Judd raised him, “then there’s a lot of work to do. Off with these,” he swept down the green shorts, leaving Roy naked from the waist down and vulnerable. “Turn around. Show me your ass. Flabby, isn’t it?”
Not knowing whether to respond, Roy stood mute. He then lay mute to be spanked.
“For you own good, Roy. Increases capillary activity. Blood flow, you know. These spanks and those to come are not punishment. They are rewards for effort to strengthen your backside.”
In that light, the Freshman understood better how physical the relationship would be. He was distracted, however, from the idea by his dangling parts coming into contact with his roommate’s pants-fighting erection. Judd reached for something without letting Roy up.
“Cream..here..conditions pliancy,” he said in a husky tone. His finger circled and toyed, greasily, with Roy’s ring. “Special stuff. Some goes inside to coat the muscle.”
What a surprise! Not far, the finger feeling him there sort of burned. Judd rotated until Roy – new sensations running all over – relaxed into the minimal penetration.
Declared ‘good,’ Roy was allowed to his feet and told – his balls held securely – to be in 102 by 9:00 PM, cleaned up and ready for “the next stage.” Judd would be with fellow Mathematics people and Physics majors at a presentation on Quantum Mechanics prior to witnessing a demonstration of the University’s first computer.
“It fills three rooms and cost a quarter of a million dollars.”
The amount stunned the piano student about as much as the implication he had the day to himself.
Judd picked up a black leather briefcase Roy had not seen and departed.
All morning, the student’s bottom smarted as he worked through difficulties in Beethoven and Moszkowski. By lunchtime and the company of Lotte, Harold and Jack, awareness lessened. Harold’s dislike of queers came up.
Forward, Lotte teased, “What bothers you about queer boys? Any bothering you?”
“I can take care of myself.”
“Broadway’s full of ’em, chorus boys and the like. Anyway, I heard they’re friendly and funny. What about you, Harold? Roy?”
Harold, a little antsy, wondered why some were called ‘pansies.’ “That’s funny.”
Roy responded, “I don’t know much about sex. My tenth grade biology class covered it but I was out when they did.”
“You’ll learn,” Lotte conceded, “but not at lunch. Have a few dates when you get your feet on the ground. Ask somebody like Alicia out.”
Jack looked askance. Held his tongue, thinking he would keep an eye on the newbie.
In the afternoon, Moszkowski and Beethoven proved difficult. The subject of queers was in Roy’s mind. It reeled like a silent movie – was he? Was Judd? What about Dixie and Rawsey? Fidgeting, his thoughts turned back to being spanked and greased and fingered, and to what could be expected of him at 9:00. Thwarted his concentration.
The long afternoon which, for relief, included rote practice of scales up and down four octaves proved taxing. Now and then, he stood to massage his butt. He was increasing capillary activity. Whether he should spank himself flitted through his consciousness. No, Judd would do that. The right was his.
He ate supper at 5:00 when the dining hall began serving. Virtually alone, he thought further practice futile.
Before 6:00, he drifted to the empty dorm room and flopped dejectedly to his narrow bed. Judd’s double bed – what did that feel like? Safe that no one could see, he went to test its springiness and lay down. The mattress’ comfort lulled. He fell asleep.
A ruckus in the hallway startled him. It was 7:45! No time to waste investigating. He had instructions to deal with himself.
Spic and span long before 9:00, Roy recklessly nosed through Judd’s desk and chest of drawers. Nothing of interest until he spotted the mimeographed sheet titled ‘Irvine Hall Roommate Responsibilities.’
From what he saw headed ‘Compliant Sexualization,’ Judd had only started with him. To come, spankings of progressive intensity, his mouth would be opened regularly until he did not choke, anal play with fingers, actual intercourse, eventual bindings – torments outside his ken…
“What are you reading?”
Judd! Earlier than expected.
In red-handed terror, Roy shrank from the hirsute hand that took the sheet.
Shrewd placidity replaced Judd’s initial angry look. In addition to the theft of his sheet, his bed had been mussed. Drew rapid conclusions. Coolly, he gestured that the miscreant unclothe.
Trembles slowed Roy’s progress. Once naked, he continued to shake, waiting for the inevitable.
Without a touch, Judd surveyed his insolent charge as if making an appraisal. Face to face – almost nose to nose – he swiftly slapped the left side of Roy’s face, then the other.
Roy squinted at the shock but dared not move. Movement was not possible, for Judd had his juicy balls in hand. Judd leaned so close they breathed the same air. Compression down there caused Roy’s jaw to drop. Judd’s left hand reached into the mouth and depressed Roy’s tongue causing a gag. The hand slapped him and went back in, reaching further and holding its pressure.
“You..will..not..bite..me.”
Under strain, an effort at ‘aaahhh’ netted release of mouth and testicles.
Nipples were tweaked alternately and together until Roy’s informed chest caught on. It swelled forward in acceptance.
“My lap,” broke the silence.
The small of Roy’s back welcomed the touch of the man’s hand securing his position for the spanking. Instead of it beginning immediately, a finger located his rear’s entrance and tapped it maddeningly. His penis lengthened. It firmed harder under ten stinging, spaced-out smacks.
“Squats. Ten, to my count.”
His erection paralleling out-front arms, scrotal contents swaying, Roy did them with Judd’s count, slightly faster than in the morning.
Promptly spanked the requisite ten times, he was not ordered to execute more squats. Rather, a greased finger penetrated, twisting and turning until deep. The hand from his back reached around to engage his balls – while Judd’s inserted finger searched for what had to be there someplace. ‘Roommate Responsibility’ said so.
Roy’s prostate, provoked for the first time from within his body’s sanctum, alerted and alarmed nerve endings. Flesh crawled hotly toward needed orgasm – when the hands left and word came for ten squats.
He scrambled to make the first count, teetering as he sank down. “Two” came right away, and “Three.” His arousal’s frustrated climax improved performance. He made it to “Ten.”
“You are getting with the program.”
Complimented, Roy felt level-headed enough to fling himself face down for another spanking. Or fingering. Or both.
A boy can hope. Especially when his balls and ass tingled with memory and his dick retained its blood supply.
He wriggled into the mathematician’s lap.
Judd took possession of Roy’s mouth with his left, gently inserted, and of his ass with a greased finger to exercise both areas.
“Your worth is in your behavior.”
Roy felt as if both places were being burnished. Breathed accordingly. Only his second night with Judd – he felt flattered to be paid such kind attention. Why, when he was in high school, had such a man not come his way? Anxiety impeded his studies, his relationships with teachers. Prevented popularity.
And it felt so good. Even being spanked by Judd – he could take it. Even looked forward…
A confidence was whispered, “Wake me in the morning when you are ready to present your face to be slapped for your impertinence. I’ll administer a spanking then, and you’ll practice your squats before breakfast. Go to bed – and dream about how cooperation insures your place here, with me.
Without an invitation to speak, Roy crossed to his bed, wiped his mouth on the sheet, and slipped beneath, rear hole prickly. He wanted to understand the way Rawsey had said. Tomorrow, if he saw Dixie, he could ask…
The early morning slaps were harsh. A hand pressed the hurt into each cheek. Judd said, “Punishing you gives me no pleasure. But, if you’re going to be my roommate, you must expect chastisement for transgressions.”
Eyes watering, Roy nodded yes. With a regard that brooked no opposition, Judd ran his hands along the boy’s nape, felt his Adam’s apple, tested the pain level of his nipples and that of his testicles, then spanked him as he stood.
Bewildered, Roy squatted in his naked state, arms extended, ten times. Each time, he realized how his backside spread as if to open his hole. His hole! It wanted to be exercised for good behavior.
A novel thought for a Freshman with so little experience as a roommate.
Judd’s finger slithered through Roy’s ring as he lay where he belonged. It swirled deeply, brushing prostate, raising the boy’s sexual heat. The feeling was so wonderful that Roy hunched back, forgetting himself by letting “Thank you” escape around the fingers which stroked his tongue.
“Shhh…I’ll frig you even more thoroughly if you promise – and I mean really promise – ten more complete squats after I spank you.”
Resolute as a soldier, Roy not only promised but, his buns on fire from spanking’s stimulus, did them. Judd’s smile approved. It offset thigh and calf muscles’ hurt. Anticipation stiffened his cock.
More cream meant easy passage and tantalizing friction. Judd probed, reamed his roommate as not before, watching Roy relish the sensation. In, out, partway, all the way, touching inner ridges, seeking the prostate bump, rotating and thrusting…slow, faster…until, after a pause, the essaying finger was joined by its neighbor and both worked their way in.
Roy’s mesmerized mind had to encompass the new! It was there, exciting him madly. Thoughts and feelings grappled with each other in a tumult of awareness. Judd was giving him more than he bargained for. That hurt was part of pleasure had been hinted. Now it was personal – just for him. It blotted consciousness for the few seconds during which he came.
Roy eventually knew his bottom was being patted with – what? – affection, possibly.
“You came all over my leg,” Judd jiggled his rear. “Get up. Fetch your towel. We are going to shower together.”
Only then did Roy notice Judd’s nudity. He stared, wide-eyed at the man who had handled him. How long had Judd’s cock been hard this time? Agog at what he had caused, Roy could not move.
Judd spread his arms, palms out as if to show himself fully, on purpose. “You’ll get used to it.”
He himself wondered at what he had been doing, at how far he had gone. An overseer – me – he marveled at his own audacity. A mathematician twice-certified by diplomas, to all intents on track for a career in academe or industry; otherwise, now the master of a Freshman’s sexual upbringing.
Sternness was called for, inwardly and outwardly, to dominate this, his boy.
The idea encouraged his recollection of Irvine Hall’s Roommate Responsibility doctrine.
Considering himself the luckiest student on earth, Roy walked the corridor at first behind, then alongside Judd, and followed him into a single shower stall – in view of other men in the steamy Facilities room.
Taps mixed cold and hot for the temperature Judd wanted. He stepped aside for Roy to be soaked, repositioned him facing the door, worked up a thick lather of soap on his hands, and proceeded to fan it over shoulders and along arms.
Roy dared no move.
Judd’s hands slid soapsuds down his back. “Bend,” he said. “I’ll clean you here,” a statement during which one finger shot inside and rummaged.
Ears overheard, heads turned to witness the boy’s ceiling-ward reaction. Those men not already sporting erect members in their stalls soon were. One, who never would have admitted it, envied the boy. He reflected briefly on a man who had known him, at fifteen, vigorously – and masturbated into the running water.
His head spinning from the difference in feeling between digital intrusions earlier and at present, Roy faced his roommate like a meek lamb. He squeezed his bottom as Judd coated his chest and stomach, and – intent look in his eyes – took him by the balls and rubbed in the soap.
“It’s your turn,” Judd said, the bar of soap held out.
Roy’s heart fluttered. He almost dropped the soap at the prospect of his hands being expected – nay, compelled – to wash Judd’s lushly fertile front. Erect harder than ever, he couldn’t wait beyond the time it took to lather his pianist’s fingers. As seriously as he could, Roy applied them directly to the chest revealed openly for the first time to his contact. His to explore, with no risk of humiliation.
The thrill of sopping wet, dense hair to his fingertips shocked Roy. His heart became a hammer. Heels and palms of hands felt the man’s chest and armpits, splurged on circular rubs so sensual that Judd’s eyes closed in pleasure. His body waited to be lavished lower.
Roy’s fascination prevented his thinking beyond rotating his wrists where they were.
“My stomach, Roy, and what’s straining down there.”
To get his hands on a man’s genitals – this one’s! – riled no-longer-bashful Roy into such sudsy caresses as Judd’s privates had no experience of. His cock’s sensitivity to the boy’s fondles sent Judd suddenly near ecstasy. He exclaimed aloud, “God!”
Eyes from other stalls and from residents, who left urinals, saw what transpired. The disappearance of Roy’s head from sight meant only one thing. Judd was about to be luckier.
Roy knelt to rinse what he cradled. No way could he resist touching its bulgy tip with his tongue. Nor could he not test its fit into his mouth. Rawsey’s fingers had been there. Judd’s, too. In a brave move, he sank onto the rigid flesh – and took a throat full of spontaneous ejaculations
So fast that he could only swallow the gobs, Roy kept his nose pressed in his now-mindless roommate’s pubic hair and sucked the shriveling boner.
He got off his knees, stood briefly under the running shower – and heard whistling and applause.
He turned to see men previously unseen. Immediately before him was Judd shaking his head in disbelief.
Conquered by his freshman, Judd rested against their stall’s wall.
Words were not exchanged as they dressed for breakfast.
“Good morning. May I join you?” Harold the violinist placed his tray and sat. “Anything happened since lunch yesterday?”
Judd kept mum.
“Why do you ask?”
“Roy, you look like the cat that ate the canary.”
Beady-eyed and smirking, he replied, “I did. Want to see one of its feathers?” He plucked a black pubic hair from between two teeth and twiddled it at Harold.
Judd tried to cover his blush by coughing. He began to think fast.
Roy left to practice.
“One word of that to anyone,” twenty-eight-year-old Judd told open-mouthed teenager Harold, “and we’ll send Rawsey Wood to see you.
The threat rattled supposedly homophobic Harold, who blanched and said nothing to departing Judd.
All morning in cacophonous practice rooms – Harold cramping at his bow techniques, Roy relishing his increased free-arm movement during scales and pieces, and wriggling his spanked butt on the bench – shame contrasted with pride.
Close to noon, the two encountered each other in the nearest rest room
“I’m sorry.”
“I snapped at you. You were just trying to be funny. Sorry.”
“Can we be friends? I don’t really have many,” he blurted, a hand at his fly.
Roy guessed that Harold, at least a year older, was lonely and – as he was when arriving in Irvine Hall – a pent-up virgin. Hence, insecure.
He asked, as he peed in front of Harold, “You and Jack, you’re afraid to like each other?”
“No, he’s my accompanist,” as if that explained anything.
Roy pointed to the small room’s urinal, stepped away, zipping up. “Your turn.”
“I can’t – with you here.”
“Man, you wonder why you don’t have friends?” With that, he walked out.
Roy was running scales again when Harold wanted to know about lunch.
“Go ahead. I’ll join you in a few minutes.” Arms crossed as if expecting to be obeyed, Roy watched Harold walk away – and noticed, for the first time, that the wimpy sophomore had a prominent butt. It moved like two invitations.
Not sure how he felt about that, Roy sped up his hard-to-finger G-sharp minor scale and finished it in order to follow Harold across the grass – unnoticed. En route, studying the older boy’s provocative way of walking, he wondered whether Harold might like to be spanked.
I would like to do that, he mused. Under the right circumstances.
No sign of Judd by 6:00 PM. Roy fretted, chose to go down to the rec room for a soft drink. There sat pretty Dixie – alone, sipping a coke.
“Oh gosh, Dixie, I didn’t know you’d be here. Can I talk to you?”
Dixie’s impossibly blue eyes rolled up, “Sure.”
“Uh, I’m kind of in a fix, you know, about how to be Judd’s roommate, uh, and all I have to do.”
“You doing squats? Taking his spanks?”
“Yes,” Roy grew shy. “And, uh, he’s fingered me and slapped my face – only not like Rawsey did yours.”
“Par for the course, only I heard you gave him head in the shower. Kid, that’s major progress – like, in no time at all. You’re going to fit in here real well, don’t you guess?”
With a blush, Roy nodded, “That just sort of happened. Judd loved it.” He asked, “What was it like for you getting started with Rawsey, if that’s not too personal.”
Dimples punctuated Dixie’s cheeks. He blinked long, deep-brown lashes beguilingly. “I was a sort of gift to him.”
That had to sink in before Roy could ask the meaning.
“In high school, our athletic coach called me out for loitering in the locker room. I stammered something about not being sure why but I liked being there. He sized me up in no time and asked if I’d like to volunteer to help out there.
“When I admitted I would like to, he said my clothes wouldn’t do. ‘Too much for a place that’s always hot and steamy.’ He took me to a locker which held the outfit I needed to wear, left by his previous volunteer. ‘Hang your clothes and put on that shirt and those shorts with our school colors on ’em,’ which I did.
Wasn’t afraid or anything that he was just standing there. Anyway, because there was a swimsuit-like mesh inside the front, I took off my briefs, too. He saw everything.
“’Tight but good on you,’ he said. ‘Can you bend over and touch your toes?” I could. He ran a hand over the back seam’s stretch across my bottom. ‘Nice, real nice,’ he told me. ‘Show’s well.’
“I remember it like it was yesterday.
“In his office, he said he’d noticed something he needed a second look at. Told me to touch my toes again. ‘Slide those down for me one more time,’ he meant the blue-and-gold shorts, of course. Didn’t bother me. He sort of peeled my butt apart and asked, ‘Son, what you been putting in there?’
“He had my number, I figured, so I told him, ‘Some kitchen things – you know, their handles.’”
Roy’s face had gone blank.
“Listen, that’s not half of my story. Too much for you? I can stop.”
“No…please go on. I’m, uh, rooted in place.”
Actually, Roy was somewhat adrift. And stiff.
“Ha! Rooted – that’s the word. It’s what he did to me with his big finger and some handy massage oil. Okay, I’ll skip the details. In no time, I was like the mascot around there. Coach had me and my bottom to treat his outstanding athletes. Jesus, I was the most popular boy in that crowd in no time!
“You want to hear about the wildest time? I mean, my first really wild time in Coach’s office? I see you do. Well, it went like this: Leon McDonald the basketball player really messed up and was going to get Coach’s ruler like forty times. Most licks he’d ever taken before for messing up was a dozen, and everybody knew it.
We were standing around trying to hear Leon get it. At sixteen whacks, he was howling and begging. I was hard as stone. Coach carried on to twenty, then twenty-five. Leon was crying like a girl, saying he couldn’t take it anymore. He was so sorry. He’d never let Coach down again.
“Things got quiet in there. All of a sudden, I heard Coach call my name. ‘Dixie, I know you’re out there. Get in here!’
“I closed the door behind me and there was Leon, ass looking like it needed the Red Cross or something. Coach told him to quit his blubbering. Told me to fetch his tube of Ben-Gay.
“I had it in my hand where Leon could see the red label.
“Leon howled, ‘No, please Coach. Not that. I promise I’ll try harder, jump higher, whatever you want. I’ll put in extra time – anything.’
“Coach winked at me ‘My bottle of cold cream, Dixie, in the cabinet.’
“Guess what? Coach gave me the job of spreading it all around Leon’s smoldering butt – while he talked to him in the gravelly voice he used when he meant business. Laid down the law, he did. Funny thing, he saw my thumbs drifting down Leon’s groove and bobbed his head.
“I stuck ’em right where it counts. Not in, of course. Me, with a hard-on, of course. That was fun, you know, being in charge of a guy who really took advantage of my butt.
“Next day, Leon caught me when nobody else was in the locker room and whaled the daylights out of my butt and fucked me. It was wonderful! I came twice. Coach found out. Got mad, only I told him I hadn’t minded. After a few more times and Coach hearing my confidences, I was in for it through graduation. It was heaven, I tell you. Dear old Coach, who never did anything sexual directly, lined me up with the athletic program director here – they had a super-secret pact – so I was picked as part of the package to get Rawsey to transfer here. Simple as that, see?”
Dixie’s audience of one had to sit down. He was shaken. Gumption returned, Dixie posing no threat. “What about how Rawsey manhandles you?”
One of Dixie’s radiant smiles came hard on after he said, “He’s my man. He handles me – rough at times but, in our dorm, that’s his right. I’m right for him, too. Great, you might say. Don’t you get it yet?”
“It’s just, I’m so new in…”
“Roy! Shut up and go back upstairs. Face Judd, or face away from him – however he wants you, and count your lucky stars he’s your special guy. Dedicate every fiber of your body to his discipline.”
Although unsatisfied about what Rawsey did to Dixie, Roy mounted the stairs in an effort to pull himself together. His stiffness went away.
Shirtless Judd looked up from his reading, “So?”
Odd elation filled the freshman’s face. He faced his man with resolution – to strip off everything he had on. Never lost eye contact nor said a word. Proudly without a stitch, he turned and bent, straight-legged, to touch the floor.
Judd did not speculate at the turn of events. He put down his topology book, got to his feet, stepped from moccasins and chinos, reached his right arm around Roy’s excitingly submissive position to bring him up. His left hand took possession of the boy’s rump.
Once he had Roy fully vertical, Judd stabilized him with a hand on his throat and began to spank. His cupped palm popped the spongy texture of the boy’s relaxed rear cheeks with reports loud as firecrackers – a total of ten times.
Complete acceptance and a growing erection.
“Squats – as many as you can, to your count,” came the order.
After slight hesitation over not being told where, Roy extended his arms, widened his stance, clenched his jaw, and counted:
“One – two – three – four – five – six – seven – eight – nine – ten – uh – eleven!”
From where he sat on his bed, roaring hard, Judd wanted to hug Roy. He opted to say, “Turn around. Come here.”
Greeted by the sight of the manly cock he had sucked that morning, Roy approached.
“Are you greased, my freshman?”
“No Judd. I did not presume to decide that. It is up to you, I understand.”
Nothing being doubtful about the way it was said, Judd was impressed. Roy’s poise! Judd indicated his erection. “Wet me thoroughly with your mouth. That way. Drool, kid. Now, bend over your bed.”
Giddy at Judd’s intention for him, Roy lay forward as best he could and spread his feet wide, like an inverted V. Erection penned under his stomach, his scrotum hung in the air.
It felt the graze of contact by Judd’s spit-slicked erection being guided where Roommate Responsibility demanded. Piercing proceeded slowly, in stages, until unaccustomed bulk made Roy shudder.
The tang of danger faded into a flood of bliss.
Smooth and welcoming, Roy’s inside beckoned Judd’s every inch being buried finally to the hilt.
The most utterly lush feeling of his life overcame usually-objective grad student Judd. His cock was thinking for his head. It took charge of his actions, impelling him first to ply Roy’s soft muskiness for information about conformity, then to see-saw out and in before abandoning itself and the rest of Judd Eidson to generating the slapping sounds of a thorough rut.
His first with male or female. He had better watch himself, or risk losing control as a responsible roommate.
The desire to please, part of musicians’ culture, had mingled with fear of what the student pianist would have to do to please the man, of how Judd’s cock would feel when it fucked him. Now he found out.
If he could see himself hosting Judd’s groin, Roy Evans would have been even more elated. Being fucked was sublime. Voice low, without shame, wantonness becoming him, Roy wheezed two words, “Fuck me.”
Judd power-drove himself to climax, shattering the intoxication of the spell which had taken him past sense. He slowed, came to a stop, observed his cock emerge from Roy’s heat, saw that the boy lay peaceful and was breathing in deep draughts, used a towel to remove evidence, wrapped a fresher one about his waist, and headed for a quick, head-clearing shower.
As he went in, Dixie was coming out, also towel-clad. Both paused.
“Do me a favor, go check on Roy. The door’s unlocked.”
Dixie darted. In seconds, he was beside Roy, kissing his touseled hair and murmuring a single question, “Did you cum?”
In answer, Roy rolled off the sperm-soaked spot. They both laughed, hugged, laughed some more, and were happy in friendship’s shared intimacy.
Dixie came up with a strategy.
By the late hour of Rawsey’s inspection, Roy wore a borrowed beach towel tied under his arms and over his chest like a woman’s sarong.
Stopped the big guy in his tracks.
Judd, in his jockeys, looked up from some equation, “Good evening, Rawsie. My roommate’s ready.”
“Damn right he better be,” the footballer was his callous self. “Doing his squats, taking your spanks, giving it up when you want? I heard he went down on you in the shower.”
“Dixie tell you?”
“I didn’t have to beat it out of him.” Closest the burly collegian got to humor.
A wry set to his mouth, Judd beat Rawsie to call out, “Drop the towel. Let him look.”
Rawsey took custody of Roy’s balls, gathered them in his taut grasp, asked, “How’s your ass?”
With no trace of former hesitation, Roy countered, “Feel, if you like.” More boldly, “Judd, would you hand him your cream?”
Rawsey fumbled, dropped the balls. “Keep him in his place. Spank him hard.”
Nursing the beginning of the whopping erection he would plant in his roommate, Rawsey bolted for the door.
Judd unscrewed his jar. “Over my lap.” Finger after finger, he fed the greasy stuff to Roy’s willing ass, and rubbed it in. “For in the morning. Get a good night’s rest. I’ll be up early.”
The act, caring of Judd, Roy thought, replaced uncertainty by relief. To know what to expect was what he needed to rest, if not in Judd’s arms, in those of Morpheus. Sleep claimed him.
Dawn had barely broken when Judd surveyed Roy’s recumbent form, torso to the bed and under a fairly neat sheet. His boy’s unspanked buttocks mounded alluringly. He slipped off his jockeys to stroke himself.
I will, he thought, because I can…screw him.
A flit of early memory paused the man – memory of his fledgling flight of fancy that Roy’s stretches, sleepily cat-like, meant he was ripe for the taking, that his teen body would cushion hairy maturity for unknown thrills…and of the shame he felt guiltily masturbating at the sight. Recent memory of multiple manipulative pleasures incinerated the gnat-like fret from his consciousness.
Nothing would further impede his intention. Not at all.
The concealing sheet tossed over the single’s foot rail, Judd climbed across Roy, supported himself by his left arm, used his right to orient drippy excitement and, with due caution not to startle, lowered to, moved through, and sank smoothly ‘home.’
Pre-creamed from the night before, Roy felt excitement pitching him awake. How erotic to be belly-down, butt up, his personal, ecstatic man’s hairy front settling cushiony on his back, his precious tract succumbing to the aphrodisiac of desire being realized.
For Judd, Roy’s defenseless, youthfully-pure body provided the immersive experience of a lifetime. Its resilience affirmed the twenty-eight-year-old’s privilege. His senses raged unmindful of any discomfort his hard cock might cause the boy – centering to enter, plumbing the humid depth, setting a rate of assault, and accelerating until slashes of hot fire raced ejaculatory ducts.
Judd heaved and spunked almost painfully. Drained himself dry. Lay flat against Roy, heavy breaths caressing his face.
The feel of the blanket of fur of Judd’s body on top of his did something to Roy. Part of him reveled in the residual hurt of being fired into. That part glowed, he thought, with the pride of possession…if only for moments before Judd retracted.
“Get up. Close your ass. I want twelve squats. Now, Roy.” He insisted, “Now.”
What could the freshman do but square his shoulders, squeeze tight his sphincter, and perform?
It was hell.
His butt while standing held its load but, close to the floor, wanted to vent.
Whimpers of effort tickled Judd’s ears.
By the exercise’s twelfth, effortful repetition, Roy could stand the tension no longer. He snatched a towel to throw around his waist and rushed from the room.
Emptied and rinsed, he returned and – he expected no less – was soundly spanked.
The episode prevailed in Judd’s mind. It gnawed at him. Resentment jockeyed with guilt and old-fashioned shame. The lure of a mere Freshman acquiescing to his demands – where had his morals gone? He should be making an emotional connection with a woman in his age and intellectual group. That was a norm which had eluded him in the deceptive trap of Irvine Hall’s Roommate Responsibilities.
It had ensnared him. What if it became a habit? Chagrin crept throughout, stifling ideas for a way out.
Judd fled to the library.
That same time, Roy was sailing through his pieces in a practice room. A noise outside his door was followed by Jack Willeford sticking his head in to announce that Prof. Novák was making rounds.
Novák! Faculty hardly ever came upstairs. Novák, never.
Lauded as top teacher for pianists, Jaromir Novák was a veteran soloist and recording artist. He had not responded to auditioner Roy’s request months earlier that he be allowed to study with the man.
Roy ventured to see what was going on.
“There he is,” Alicia Reyes pointed directly. Jack, nearby, gawked.
“Ah, I see.” Prof. Novák walked up to Roy, put out his hand, and said in his accented way, “I hear something interesting about you. You make big change almost overnight. You cannot play, then you can. Want to hear. You come to my studio, please?”
Harold waved as Roy, looking confused, passed in Novák’s wake. Other students saw and wondered.
Two hours later, Roy was famished, his stomach growling, his head in the clouds. He spotted Howard and Jack in the campus snack shop. Quickly bought a hot dog with relish and an orange cola. Muscled in at their table for two.
“He gave me a lesson! Shook my hand afterward, too.”
Jack’s eyes beaded, his lip curled snidely. “What? Why?”
“I sailed through my Moszkowski – best speed ever – and lucked into the right groove for my Beethoven – which he called ‘booty-fool.’”
“He gave you a chance?” Jack was in denial, perhaps.
“I have two days to prepare an assignment from memory: Schumann’s Träumerei and Wichtige Begebenheit – ‘Dreaming’ and ‘An Important Event,’ you know, from Kinderszenen.”
“Listen to you, spouting German. Big deal,” Jack scoffed. “I did those when I was a kid.”
Howard acted innocent, “In two days?”
Contemptuously, Jack abandoned the rest of his chicken salad sandwich and chips, and left in a huff.
“He’s just jealous,” Howard confided. “He wishes Prof. Novák showed any interest in him. Much less teach him how to pronounce German titles.”
Both shared a laugh.
Howard asked, “But, tell me, what happens if you meet his challenge?”
“Don’t tell anyone, okay? He’ll take me in his class of private students. Wouldn’t that be great?”
Howard looked pensive. “I wish I knew how to learn. I’m so slow.”
They finished their food – and Jack’s chips. Headed immediately upstairs. The violinist wanted observe the pianist at work, sure he would pick up a few pointers.
Before the afternoon was out, Howard was earnestly playing the melody of Träumerei from memory, mimicking to the best of his limited ability Roy’s songful inflections. Scratchy his sound may have been but he was using longer bow strokes with confidence which he lacked before.
Roy told his friend to turn away and face the wall. With the little piece’s harmonies reduced to gentle chords, he accompanied Howard. Benefit: the crotch-tight pianist could appraise the possibly-prejudiced violinist’s backside and imagine the plush fun it would be to spank and fuck.
If only Howard knew…
To clear the air, Roy showed Howard how he could toss off Moszkowski’s Etude in F. Partway through the display of bravura – when Roy’s fingers were darting over the old piano’s ivories at breathtaking velocity – Jack quietly cracked the door to listen. Just as quietly, he closed it before the chromatic scale zoomed up in the high treble.
Alone again, Roy learned Kind im Einschlummern (Child Falling Asleep). Prof. Novák might like the initiative.
After a review of the new Schumann pieces and touch-ups of his Beethoven and Moszkowski the way Novák told him, Roy’s excitement had built. Who else could he tell of his luck but Rudd?
Scores in hand, Roy found their room empty. The rec room had only one of the other grad students in it, shoes propped on a table. Roy’s greeting resulted in a desultory acknowledgment.
Suppertime in the dining hall came – and then he saw Judd in close conversation with a dark-headed young woman in a loose-weave turtleneck. Judd looked up, looked back, ignored.
Appetite? Not much. Soup, crackers, a piece of pound cake with canned chocolate sauce drizzled on it. Milk. Friends in sight? None until Howard and his violin case wandered in, his face rather vague. It came together at Roy’s wave.
“Thanks again for helping me. I’ve been loosening up my bow arm,” he sounded pleased with himself.
“Are the girls coming?”
“I think so, and they’re bringing a new girl from the drama program, Jane-something. I can tell you who’s not coming, at least anytime soon – Jack. He’s been torturing himself and his too-tight shoulders and arms with his Chopin piece – and getting nowhere with it.”
“He’s bitter about something – like queers, I remember. Something happen to him, like, back in his past? You aren’t like that, are you?”
Howard faced his Salisbury steak and mashed potatoes, “Not really. I just go along with him because he accompanies my lessons.”
Jane Alexander proved to be companionable. Collegiate chatter within and among the new group led to the decision to go to the campus theater where, on the eve of the Fall term’s first day, the Film Club was showing “The Importance of Being Ernest.”
“It’s free.” – “Already a classic.” – “You’ll love the actors and their roles.” – “Oscar Wilde, you know.” – and so on.
Sodas, popcorn, and the movie, discussed enthusiastically, behind them, the five scattered to respective dorms.
The hour was late. Roy finally could share his news with Judd. Room 102 was empty. Where was he? With that girl?
Too excited to sleep, Roy showered. The hot water relaxed him. Judd would be coming soon, he hoped, to spank him. And…
With Judd’s desk lamp’s glow for mood, he lay face down on the bed, a dry hand towel covering his waiting bottom.
The door opened and closed quietly. The rustle of clothes being removed built anticipation. A drawer slid out and back. Sound of a jar lid being opened. The towel, flicked away. Judd, breathing audibly, ran fingers into Roy’s cleft, one into his anus, thrust more cream there and rubbed the remainder onto his erection.
Without a word, he mounted his freshman. Tamped his buttocks as if packing loose earth – hard.
Roy winced at the attack. Did his best to adjust. Upped his butt so Judd could head deeper, perhaps cum sooner. Get it over with.
As if sensing a deadline, Judd fucked with ever-increasing speed, bearing down, his concern to do his unquestionable duty in spite of having determined to desire a woman. A woman such as Amy Yarbrough, whom he met in the library.
The view for an instant of his rigid cock spearing white flesh blurred mistily with the thought of Amy, docile beneath him. How he would fuck her! Show her what a man he was.
To Roy’s relief, Judd crashed and burned. Pumping past the point when there was nothing left to eject, he slumped against the boy, spent.
Delusion in ashes, he saw what he had been doing. Saw Roy wiping his eyes. Felt shame. Pulled out. Said nothing. Went, unwashed, to his own bed. Fell asleep.
Slowly, Roy found the towel Judd discarded, wiped his abused anus, felt…melancholy. He had wanted to be treated as before – to a spank, to a fuck of the sort into which he had been initiated by his roommate. Rather than that special reaction which inspired his work in the practice room, there was only hurt.
With difficulty, he went for a shower. The morrow would start early. His class in Music Theory met at 9:00. That ought to be interesting. His earlier piano teachers’ concerns dealt with mastering technicalities of finger coordination. He needed to learn. That meant alertness.
In bed after turning out the desk lamp, he was claimed by fatigue.
Roy slept uneasily, woke up feeling miserable, went to breakfast by himself. Got down what he could, swigged black coffee and trudged to Music Theory. Unspanked, unexercised, unfucked, uninspired.
Feeling that the day, its classes, his meals, his practices, and interchanges with students all to have been unspeakable, Roy faced the evening with trepidation.
He encountered friendly Dixie to whom he poured out the story of his misery.
Some minutes later, advice eased Roy’s tension. He prepared himself to expect Judd much earlier – and to have a request to make.
What he did not know or guess: that Dixie found Judd and Amy side by side at a table in the library stacks.
“Excuse me, miss. Judd is needed in our dorm.” He spoke softly but firmly, looking her in the eyes, “He has neglected duties to attend to…” – the young man hesitated for effect – “…before our hall monitor gets in from football practice. There’s to be an inspection. Judd?”
Temperament fuming, Judd apologized, gathered his notepad and a book, abruptly tossed them into his briefcase and, as they walked, had to listen to the sophomore inform him of consequences should he fail to deal properly with his roommate. The details chastened him
Brutality was out.
Amends were to be made to realign behaviors with Irving Hall rules.
He, Dixie would be listening.
Judd did not close the door to room 102. He did look to see a freshened Roy in t-shirt and green shorts at study. Their eyes met.
His measured opening: “Hello roommate, I’m here to help you.”
Roy resisted saying, “As you should.” Rather, he asked for assistance in understanding Pythagoras’ discovery and plotting of intervals in the harmonic series. His morning’s Theory Class had baffled him with its chart and proportional mathematics.
“I want to be a good musician. Our professor said that it was impossible without,” he made air quotes, “a thorough grasp of Pythagoras.”
Judd made good on his word. Patient as he could be, he took Roy through the physics and mathematics of the ancient Greek’s theorem.
Both were relieved. Roy, grateful.
He stepped out of his shorts and, his genitals directly over Judd’s, lay across his roommate’s lap.
Room 102 echoed with sounds of quality spanking instilling the lesson.
There was a hush. Brief.
Then followed the slapping sounds of pelvis to rump, rhythmically resolute and sustained – to satisfy roommate requirements and both participants.
Neither was aware of their room’s door being entered by hall monitor Rawsey Wood. To his judgmental eyes, the spank-reddened butt of the student he called ‘Fresh’ being swept into and back from was orderly and correct. A massive arm around Dixie’s neck, he steered his roommate Dixie to their own room for appropriate action.
Three weeks into the term, Roy’s squats had strengthened knees, calves, thighs, glutes. His physical attainment put Roy anatomically in harmony with Judd’s diurnal ritual over-the-lap spankings and face-down intercourse. That balance of authority and submission equipped the pianist to face his lessons and classes with a free heart and an open, efficient mind. Roy’s accelerating progress fostered more trust than ever in his fan Howard and infuriated their practice room acquaintance Jack.
Under Novák’s tutelage Roy had memorized the remainder of his Schumann suite, learned Chopin’s ‘Ocean’ Etude, changed the ending of his Moszkowski showpiece to interlocking octaves, and was at work on the other movements of his Beethoven sonata.
Where an egocentric student might have bragged or lorded it over one such as Jack, Roy merely smiled and kept his own counsel.
Steadfast Judd prevailed over his uncertainty. Three-pronged, his time went primarily to doctoral studies and related circumstances, roughly two (occasionally three) hours a day to his burgeoning relationship with physics major Amy Yarbrough, early mornings and late evenings to adhering to the letter and spirit of the sheet titled ‘Irvine Hall’s Roommate Responsibilities’ – feeling up, fingering, fostering, and fucking.
That third week’s Friday afternoon brought him to make a request of Roy.
“I know it’s not my time for you, Roy, but I want to ask you for a favor.”
“Want me to strip?”
“No, not that. I want you to let me practice making out with you. Things with Amy are heating up. I want to date her for real, only…I think she’s just waiting for me to kiss her and I haven’t done anything like that since high school. You know, nose to the grindstone and all that. Okay?”
Roy studied Judd’s face, thinking it might be a joke. No sign. He said, “You mean, pretend like you and she were at the movie?”
“Yes, like that. Come sit by me.”
Hand-holding preceded an arm around ‘her’ neck. A peck on the cheek. Roy tingled, turned his head. Judd, eyes closed, kissed Roy’s soft lips fleetingly. Roy nudged his head against Judd’s neck the way a girl would, he thought.
“Did that seem good?” Judd wondered, feeling strange.
“I don’t know. It’s new for me. When something about playing the piano’s new, I practice it.”
They did. The session ended when Roy kissed Judd back, their lips together for several seconds.
After returning from his first real date with Amy – they saw “The Prince and the Showgirl” – Judd disclosed that he kissed Amy when Laurence Olivier kissed Marilyn Monroe.
A supper date the next weekend provided opportunity for petting – Judd’s open-mouth kissing and stroking her breasts through the covering of blouse and bra. He had practiced with Roy, who enjoyed his roommate’s tasty tongue and did not mind his pretense of fondling teen boy pecs.
What Roy really found enlivening was Judd’s subsequent Thursday and Friday night make-believe bouts with heavy petting. A rigid upright for Roy’s hand to feel through pants leg, to bring out of an unzipped fly, to jack (a bit, not off). Divided between the two sessions were practiced coordination of soul kisses with a hand reaching for pussy and fingering (Roy’s ass, from the front) under ‘her’ skirt (a large, knotted-at-the-waist towel) and face to face fucking, ‘her’ legs around the suitor’s hips.
Judd’s eyes were never open during these intimately personal, up-close physical intimacies. Roy’s were. He fancied the pseudo-love making and the effort Judd put into convincing himself he was with a female. Judd’s tongue grazing his, fingers pinching his would-be breasts, well-used penis screwing him from the front – added together, they fostered the idea in Roy that his future would require a man who loved him honestly.
Prof. Novák was a fugitive vision, quickly cast away.
His background work with Roy emboldened Judd to tell Amy, “Your insides satisfy my needs better than I ever thought possible.” But he fucked her simply each time he could, as romantically as he could, then went home to room 102 and fucked Roy deliriously – in the same position, different intensity behind his kisses.
One night, after a particularly protracted spanking – from which Roy almost came – Judd positioned a pillow under the boy’s hips to raise them. He introduced himself through the puffy, button-like entry point and started lightly. Tender kisses to one lip at a time seduced legs to lift and spread. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, he toyed the way in as if shy – an inch forward, half that back, another inch more, a small bit of length rubbed around and inserted perhaps two inches before being drawn out and reinserted, then driven in like a stake – a moment when Roy answered by grinding against him, claiming all six inches as if they were individually meaningful. The while, his eyes glowing with excitement, he proffered his lips for kisses more wanton than either had tried.
Their carnal concupiscience, tied as it was to Judd’s effortful courting of Amy, merged naturally with dorm room routines. That is, until Judd and Amy became serious and started making plans to marry.
Judd began taking Roy on his side, balls not protruding to the rear. “I just want to see myself going in and out of you. Your butt’s like Amy’s, shapely and hairless. I like to imagine I’m in her – where she wouldn’t dream of letting me.”
Sliding as between the exquisite softness of Any’s breasts, resting inwards, light gripped in the warm dark, Judd had his fantasy.
Grateful for the attention where it mattered most, Roy moved only slightly, squirming as though ready for more. If this was the intimacy on offer, then he was content. It caused his anus to glow radiantly. His buttocks pinkened.
New acquaintances, the best professor, a truly concerned roommate.
He had to be the luckiest freshman at the University.
Roy’s spirits soared.
I published, under my pseudonym, a provocative novel, “Young Edwin – Eros – Arts,” via amazon.com – after five years of work, reconsideration, & editing to reduce it for presentation in 582 pages. In as lively & as believable a fashion as possible, it accounts for the roles played by sexual discovery, exploration, & maturity among four talented young men (two 18-years-old & two 16-years-old) & a considerable cast of older persons, the majority of whom are men.
Interracial (Caucasian & Asian) and inter-generational, the “chemistry” among these persons defies accepted standards by its overarching positiveness, its unusual brands of humor, & its definitely graphic portrayal of sexual expression (physical & emotional).
Link: Young Edwin
I invite your curiosity &, if you read it, your reactions to its perspectives on education & guidance. Meanwhile, please avail yourself of the opportunity below.