November 2008
Alfie and I watch as Ken parades around our dorm room in nothing but a pair of form-fitting, shiny briefs that leave little to the imagination as he gathers his strewn about clothes and shoes. Gus shakes his head in mock-disgust as he steps back into his own jeans without fanfare. For the first time this year, my jeans stayed on, but I’m still shirtless and barefoot at the end of our weekly tournament. Alfie (Alf to everyone else) is, as usual, fully clothed. He never even lost a shoe. He never does.
Alfie and I are roommates at the University of Bridgeport in Connecticut. Our friends Ken and Gus come to our room every Friday and we play Mario Kart for hours. Fridays are our time to decompress. Alfie always wins. Since we’re (mostly) all broke college students, we never play for money, but it was Ken who wanted to, as he put it, “make things more interesting”. He suggested Strip Mario Kart. Alfie was unphased by the suggestion; not only does he always win the war, but he wins every battle along the way. He is seemingly invincible as he avoids banana peels while hurling shells and dropping bombs. It’s kind of infuriating.
The way it works is that a fourth place finish means you lose an article of clothing. It’s November in the Northeast, so we all start with shoes, socks, pants, a t-shirt and a hoodie. The loser is the first person to eight losses. By that time, you’re already in just your undies, but the final loss does not culminate in the full monty. No. The big loser keeps the goods concealed, but has to buy the popcorn for all four of us at movie night in the great room later. It only costs a couple dollars.
Gus, fully dressed now, says, “Dex, Alf… Catch you at the movie.”
He and Ken are roommates too. He glances at the still mostly naked Ken and adds, “At least you guys only have to watch this show once a week. I see way too much of our man here every single day. The dude sleeps naked!”
Ken finally has one sock on. He looks up, “Hey! We were born naked. It’s our natural state of being. You’re all about environmental issues, Gus. I’m contributing to the world’s natural beauty.”
Alfie laughs as Gus gives Ken double middle fingers before slipping out the door.
Ken nudges me into the corner, “Umm, I’m a little shy this week.”
He means shy in terms of cash. In no other way is the still almost naked dude six inches away from me shy. Ken and I trade off being the loser each week. Alfie always wins and Gus is always second. I try to downplay it with my friends, but I’m the only one of us who’s not constantly strapped for cash. I end up paying for the popcorn every week regardless of who actually loses. I really don’t mind.
I smile at Ken, “I got it.”
He grins back, “Hey, Dex. I owe you something then. Maybe I should drop my briefs for a ten-count, give you a gook look-see and we’ll call it even.”
“I’m taking a hard pass on that,” I tell my friend. “And really, I wish you were wearing pants for this conversation.”
He winks and laughs. If I’m being honest, Ken is a good-looking dude both above and below the neck. He is clearly proud of his body and he should be. But we’re not at the pool or the beach and it’s enough now. He picks up on the vibe I’m throwing off, pulls on his spandex biking shorts, gathers his remaining items and disappears down the hall, still shirtless and shoeless.
Alfie says to me, “I bet you anything he finds a reason to drop his briefs before we get to second semester. He’s dying to show us what he’s packing.”
“Right? Even before he had to take them off, those biker shorts were painted on. Size, girth, contours – the mystery is over.”
Alfie giggles, “Why is he so desperate to give us this particular show?”
“The same reason he has a new girlfriend every week; he wants as many people as possible to see his proudest accomplishment. He’s a big boy and eager to prove it.”
“He accomplished his biceps. Hell, he even accomplished his tan. But the size of his junk is nothing but the luck of the genetic draw.”
“It’s also his gregarious personality. He’s what they call a ‘shower’.”
Alfie makes a face, “I thought that meant something else.”
“When it comes to our buddy Ken, it has a double meaning.” I chuckle, “Can you imagine if he were a ‘grower’? That thing would need to be registered as a lethal weapon.”
Alfie chuckles too.
It’s our second year of college, but our first year rooming together. I met him early on freshman year in a required health and wellness class. We got to know each other and started hanging out. I am an English/Lit major and Alfie is a Biology major. I struggle big time with all of my required science and math classes. Alfie has tutored me and helped me to study for tests I’d surely otherwise fail for three semesters now. Tutoring is one of the three jobs he has in addition to his class load. All last year I paid him for his tutoring, but now that we’re best friends and roommates, he refuses to take my money. I have to find other, sneaky ways to pay him.
Every couple of weeks I stick a crumpled twenty in his jeans pocket. I can’t do that too frequently or he’ll get suspicious. I also find devious ways to give him things that he’ll only accept because he thinks I didn’t have to pay for them. I guess he and Ken have pride in common, though they are clearly proud in very different ways.
Ken and Gus are poor, struggling college students in the traditional sense – they just run constantly short on spending money. Their respective families support them and whenever they really need something, they’re there for them. They both have all the clothes, books and supplies they need. Their meal plans are paid for. Alfie is another story. He had only two pairs of jeans, three t-shirts, one hoodie, one pair of tattered sneakers that turned from white to grey with age long ago and no coat. It’s November in the Northeast. I only know as much about his situation as he lets me know – which isn’t a lot.
I’ve learned to stop asking about his family because it’s pointless. He won’t talk about them. What I’ve pieced together in the year-plus that I’ve known him is that if his family exists, he has nothing to do with them. Financially or emotionally. He’s on his own. We’re only nineteen. What the fuck? It’s a good thing he’s so smart because his scholarship covers 75% of his tuition. The other 25%, plus room and board all falls to him. That’s why he works three jobs. That’s why he never goes home during breaks. And that’s why I stick twenties in his jeans pockets whenever I can get away with it.
My parents are not rich by any stretch of the imagination, but I am an only child. All of their love and spoiling lands squarely on my shoulders. I get a generous monthly spending allowance that I supplement with a Saturday job at an off-campus sandwich shop. Alfie actually has a jalopy of a car and he lets me borrow it every Saturday to get to work, since at the same time, he’s working on campus in the library. Neither of us talk about it, but I return it to him every Saturday evening with a full tank of gas.
There are only a few scattered stretches of days each year that the campus is completely closed. I strongly suspect that during those times last year, Alfie lived in his car. His old, beat-up car that burns gas to run the heat. I hate thinking about it.
On Saturdays, we meet up in our room after our respective shifts and I bring sandwiches, chips and sodas for the two of us. He only allows me to do this because I convinced him that as an employee benefit, I get up to two free sandwiches a day. Since it’s free, he accepts it. He also works library shifts on Monday, Wednesday and Thursday nights. On his scheduled breaks those nights, I bring two sandwiches and we eat dinner together. On Tuesdays, Fridays and Sundays, I get meals for two at the dining hall because I don’t use my card on our sandwich days. Again, this is the only reason he allows me to bring him a tray of food. He thinks it costs me nothing. The truth is that none of it is free. Eight free sandwiches a week for a kid who works just one six-hour shift is not an actual benefit. I buy them all. And I lie about it to my best friend.
From the beginning of freshman year to the end, I watched Alfie wasting away. Already skinny eighteen-year-old boys are not supposed to lose weight. For Alfie, the “freshman fifteen” worked in reverse. He could hardly keep his too loose pants to stay up on his hips. When I first saw him after returning from the long summer at home, I was shocked. He was emaciated. I’ve been pumping him full of food under false pretenses for three months now and he’s finally getting close to his original weight. I think. Other than his pants fitting better, I’m not sure he even notices.
It’s so much easier for me to help him now that we’re roommates. Beyond the gas, the extra twenties and the meals, I find other ways. Of course I find other ways. He’s Alfie. It’s not just that he keeps me from flunking out of college, despite how little time he has between classes, labs and three jobs, but he’s a kind and caring friend. My best friend. So, I come back from visits home with “birthday clothing” that is too small or things I’ve outgrown. He thinks I didn’t buy them, but I do.
Little does he know that I am about to give him a much needed and long overdue second pair of shoes. This one is tricky because we are different sizes. I am 6’ 1”, 175 pounds and I wear a size eleven shoe. Alfie is only 5’ 7”, I would guess back up to 115 pounds and I happen to know that he wears a size ten shoe. It wasn’t easy to find that out. With his jam packed schedule, he stays up later than me and gets up earlier than me every day. When he’s out of the room, his shoes are with him on his feet. When he’s in the room, he’s either wearing his shoes, or he’s awake and would notice me checking them out. I had to wake up in the middle of the night recently to spy his shoe size in the night-darkened room. I’m also lucky that he has big feet for his height. It makes my little ruse more believable.
I slip back into my shirt and sit next to him to put my socks back on. I gently elbow him in the ribs and he jumps. “How come you never have to get dressed again?”
“Because you three all suck.” He grins.
I elbow him again and he flinches again.
“Cut it out,” he pokes me in the belly with one finger. “That tickles,” he says.
That’s the opening I hoped for. In actuality, his poke didn’t tickle me at all, but I pretend like it did. “Now you’re gonna pay! I didn’t tickle you on purpose, but you did!” I bend down, grab his left foot and secure it by the ankle with one hand. He can’t shake it loose. We’re on his bed and he flops backwards, laughing in anticipatory fear before I even do anything. Before his shoe is even off. I flip off his old sneaker with my free hand and I stroke up and down his arch a few times as he thrashes and laughs so hard that he gasps for breath.
This was all just a set up. I needed a reason to get his shoe off, I’m not actually looking to torture the poor guy, so I let him go. As he writhed around on his back, his shirt had bunched up around his ribcage and I noticed two things. First, I was glad to see that while he’ll probably be skinny his whole life, he no longer resembles the starving, neglected children you see on those TV commercials. He is in fact getting his weight back. Second, I realized with some surprise that the flash of his smooth olive-toned abdomen caused a stirring in my jeans. My jeans that I’m suddenly very glad I didn’t have to take off today. Yes, this is surprising. Just moments ago, Ken (with an admittedly good body) paraded around here almost completely naked and all but swung his dick about like a golf club and none of it had the slightest effect on me. But a two-second flash of innocent stomach on Alfie and I’m suppressing a hardon. What’s that about?
I shake it off. Then I pick up his shoe and pretend to do a double take as I hand it to him. “Hey, you wear size ten?” I ask, as if I didn’t already know.
He snatches it out of my hand, embarrassed by its ragged condition, “Yeah. So?”
“I never really noticed before. Your feet are big.”
He scoffs, “They’re smaller than yours.”
“I mean proportionately. I’m at least six inches taler than you, but my feet are only one size bigger. On your smaller frame, your feet are huge.”
He slips back into his shoe, “So, what… Am I a freak or something?”
He looks up at me through his tangle of wavy brown hair that too often hides his round brown eyes. He’s the furthest thing from a freak. I go to my bed and pull a shoe box out from underneath. The box says Adidas Classic, size eleven. I hand it over to Alfie, but he won’t touch it.
He shakes his head, “Dex, you know I won’t—”
I cut him off, “It’s not like that. Listen. I bought these back in August, but they had the wrong pair in the wrong box. See? The box says eleven, but the shoes are tens. They’re too small for me.”
He scoffs again, “You bought shoes without trying them on?”
I’m not a great liar so I’ve been rehearsing this story for a few days now. “I did try them on and they fit perfectly, but the pair I tried had a big scuff on them. I just grabbed another box that said eleven, made sure they were blemish-free and bought them.” I rub my neck, “I didn’t realize until the next day they were actually tens. I tried to return them, but since they were a clearance item, they wouldn’t take them back. I had no idea you wore size ten until just now. It’s a good thing you forced me to seek revenge or I may have never known. It’s not like you ever lose a shoe in Strip Mario Kart.”
He eyes me suspiciously. The truth is that I scoped out his shoe size, intentionally swapped boxes and just bought these a few days ago. If he ever learned that truth, not only would he not accept the shoes, but he’d be furious with me and he’d refuse my (not-so) free sandwiches for a week as punishment.
“Take them,” I insist. “Or they’ll just end up in the trash.”
He reluctantly takes the box and tries his new kicks on. He says, “They feel good. It’s a perfect fit.” He smiles and my heart flutters.
They look good too. Really good. They’re good shoes (that were not on clearance) but they look especially good on Alfie. Whew. Mission accomplished. The lengths I go to. I shake my head. And then I notice that his little shoe modeling show has my crotch tightening again.
~~
After dinner for two in the main dining hall, charged to my meal plan, we meet up with Ken and Gus for the movie. It’s good to see Ken fully clothed again. He really is a good guy. Aloof, but harmless. He thanks me again as I pass out popcorn for four. I just shoot him a discreet wink.
Alfie works so hard all week long that half the time he falls asleep in the middle of the movie. Tonight, my right shoulder has become his involuntary pillow. His head is a gentle warmth and I leave him to his much needed nap. I wake him as the movie nears its end so he isn’t embarrassed in front of the others. He lifts his head and gives me a sheepish smile that tingles me all the way down to my toes. I find myself wishing it was a double feature and Alfie was still… I’m not sure what I’m wishing for. Or why I’m wishing for it.
~~
The next Friday, I’m the one in just my boxers. I lost Strip Mario Kart. The truth of the matter is that I lost on purpose. This way, I save Ken the embarrassment of having to ask me to pay for the popcorn anyway. It’s just easier. And I get the added bonuses of Ken’s pants still being on and him not offering to show me his dick as a very unnecessary form of alternative compensation. It’s a win-win-win.
Ken and Gus are gone and I’m getting dressed again when I say to Alfie, “I’m leaving you my meal card while I’m at home for Thanksgiving.”
He blinks at me.
“Whatever your protest is, I don’t want to hear it. This is not up for debate. If you don’t use those meals, they’ll just go to waste anyway.”
“Okay.”
I’m surprised it was that easy. “Don’t say ‘okay’ just to shut me up. I’ll check my account when I get back. Those meals better have been redeemed.” I sit next to him on his bed and pull on my socks.
“Okay, Dex.”
“And you have to eat them. I’ll know if you don’t.”
“How would you know?”
“Easy.” In one lightning quick motion, I push him on his back and straddle him below the hips. I pin both of his wrists high above his head in one hand. With the other, I grope around his oversized hoodie, finding his ribs beneath. Alfie giggles and thrashes as I conduct my examination and dig into his sides. I tell him, “I’m establishing a starting point. If you are even one ounce skinnier than you feel right now, I will punish you so hard.” I slide my hand down to his lean belly and prod and poke at the smooth bare skin under his sweatshirt. His giggles turn to hysterical laughter and I tickle his abdomen even harder. “I mean it,” I say. “Not one ounce skinnier. I’ll inspect you again when I get back and I’ll know.”
We nudge and bump each other playfully during video games, but I’ve never done anything like this to him before. I surprised myself here. It was almost like it wasn’t me doing it, like I was possessed. I flush in shame and roll off of my friend. I’m also glad I had gotten dressed before pulling this little stunt because my jeans are effectively hiding all evidence of my once again burgeoning erection. I really shouldn’t use my size and strength against my best friend. He should always feel safe with me. What the hell was I thinking? I nudge his shoulder offering a sheepish grin and a sincere apology, “I’m really sorry. I don’t know what got into me.”
But he doesn’t look upset. He returns my grin and nudges me back, “No worries. I’m not mad. But you can’t be mad at me either when I get you back. Revenge will be so sweet.”
Revenge? How in the hell does he think he could ever overpower me? But I did cross the line here, so whenever he tries whatever he has in mind, I won’t fight back. I’ll let him get even. It’s the least I can do.
~~
I am a sound sleeper. A really sound sleeper. So it’s not until my fourth limb is tied to my fourth bedpost that I wake up. I am on my back, on my bed, spreadeagle and securely tied down. What the fuck? The clock on my desk reads 3:00am. And then Alfie’s face appears before me. Smiling devilishly.
Suddenly, I’m wide awake. “What’s going on?”
“I said I’d get you back. Dex, you’re ten times bigger and stronger than me. I needed to level the playing field to be able to render you helpless.”
I gulp. So much for my plan to let him get me back. He’s managing just fine without my cooperation. He hops up and straddles my hips, just like I did to him mere hours ago. I am completely at his mercy and a little scared. He starts grappling his hands up and down my sides, digging into my ribs and I start to laugh. I know I deserve this, but he freaking tied me down!
He says, “Hmm. I order you to not overeat at Thanksgiving dinner. I’ll know if you do. I’ll be able to tell.” His exploring hands find my abdomen and he examines me like a blind man. “If you gain even one single ounce of weight on this vulnerable tummy of yours…” he grins and gropes as I laugh with tears streaming from my eyes, “…I will know and you will be punished.”
Is it wrong that punishment sounds like fun? He pushes my t-shirt up and goes for direct skin contact. I have to force myself to not scream and wake up the whole dorm. I manage to croak out, “I only tickled you for like a minute. Stop. I promise. I’ll lay off the pumpkin pie!”
Uh oh. This whole situation here is having an effect on me. Again. And there are no thick jeans to conceal the results. Just my thin boxers as a useless veil. But then Alfie hops off of me. He says, “But you also tickled my foot last week and revenge has yet to be exacted.”
I try to scrunch my feet as a line of defense, but as soon as his fingers drag up the length of my arch, I un-scrunch and attempt to kick free as I howl in laughter yet again. He eventually relents, but I cannot enjoy the relief because I’m terrified as to how he’ll react to the tentpole that is trying to break free from my boxers. As he unties me, I twist my torso to hide my development. My best hope is that he hopped off of me before I was firm enough to feel beneath him and that the room was too dark to notice.
Why does this keep happening? It’s just a natural response, right? I am still a virgin. Maybe these episodes mean I don’t masturbate enough. I am as hormone crazed as any other nineteen-year-old boy, I’d guess. The problem is that the last time I jerked off, my mind had wandered to an unexpected place and it surprised me. That was days ago and I haven’t gone at it since. I look over at Alfie.
“You know I was kidding, right?” he asks. “It’s Thanksgiving. Have seconds on dessert. Enjoy the time with your family. Maybe I’ll punish you if you don’t gain any ounces.”
He grins and my dick twitches.
~~
Nine days later I return to our dorm room after Thanksgiving break. When I open the door, Alfie is at his desk, head down, studying. He doesn’t say “Hi”. He doesn’t even look up. He’s wearing his old beat up sneakers and I notice that his new Adidas shoes that he had been wearing every day for a while now are back in the size eleven shoe box and sitting on my bed.
I ask, “Is there a problem with the new shoes?”
Still not looking up, he says, “Yeah. The problem is that you lied to me.”
“But they really were the wrong size—”
He cuts me off, “No! You said that you bought them back in August. It was all just a big coincidence that you realized I wore a 10 and you had these unreturnable shoes just lying around.” He finally looks up at me. “I bumped into Ken a few hours ago in the dining hall and he complimented my new shoes. Funny thing. He said he was with you when you bought them. Not way back in August like you said, but just a couple weeks ago. When you bought them specifically for me. At full price.”
“Alfie, I—”
He slams his book shut and stands. “You, Dex, do not understand.”
“Look, call them payment for tutoring me. Or an early birthday present if you want. You really needed a new pair of shoes. I was in a position to help. I can’t not help if I’m able to.”
He softens, “You are a sweet, kind, generous boy.” But then he bristles again, poking his finger in my sternum and prodding me to the verge of pain. “But you lied to me.”
“It’s really your own fault. You still tutor me in my math and science classes, but you stopped letting me pay you. I had to find another way.”
He pokes his finger harder still, “But you didn’t tell me that. You didn’t talk to me. You tricked me and you lied to me. You made me feel like a charity case.”
He steps over to my bed, picks up the shoebox and tosses it back onto his own bed. “I’m gonna forgive you this one time because I know your heart was in the right place, but I expect my best friend to respect me.”
He walks to the door, “And don’t be mad at Ken. He meant no harm. He had no idea he’d said something wrong.” He walks out and leaves me standing there alone.
~~
A couple weeks later, it’s almost holiday break. Over sandwiches (that he still doesn’t know I actually pay for), I say, “You told me before to talk to you about things, so I have something to talk to you about.”
He takes a sip of soda.
“You have to do the same, though. This best friend thing works both ways.”
“Okay,” he sounds unsure.
“You never talk about your family, and that’s fine, but I honestly don’t know if they even exist. I want you to know that you can talk to me about real stuff. I’m good for more than just losing in Mario Kart.”
He eyes me over the top of his sandwich, “They exist but I no longer have contact with them.”
He pauses and I just wait him out.
“When I turned eighteen, I went to my parents and told them who I really am. Turns out that they don’t care for the real me.” He shrugs, “Since I’m the middle of seven kids, they have six other chances. They probably don’t even remember me.”
How can anyone who’s ever met Alfie forget Alfie? “Can I ask what you told them?”
He hesitates before finally saying, “Something that took years to work myself up to say. Something I’ve said to no one since. Something that I’ve tried to not think much about in the year and a half after.”
“But it’s who you are?”
Another pause, “I probably phrased that wrong. People aren’t just one thing.” His brown eyes connect with mine through his dark tangles of hair. “You know the real me.”
I know what he shows me, which is both a lot and not enough at the same time. I have seen him happy and sad and everything in between. This is the first time he’s said anything about his family and I get the feeling he’s done for now. Which is fine. It’s a start. I also know he’s a great friend. And like me, at least for the three semesters I’ve known him, he has no one who might be more than a friend. Maybe he doesn’t date because he can’t afford to. He is embarrassed by his financial situation and his closest friends know to not make an issue of it. Of course, that doesn’t explain why I don’t date. Anyway, as much as he thinks I know him, I want to know him better.
I swallow, “Alfie, it’s almost winter break. Campus completely closes around Christmas for a few days. What will you do?”
He says nothing.
“I’m afraid that last year you spent some very cold nights living in your car. Now I know you are proud and brave and self-sufficient and inspiring and you are your own hero. Honestly, you’re a hero to me too. I am not trying to save you; I know you’ll survive just fine, but you know what? Living takes a community. Your community includes classes, labs, professors, jobs and friends. Friends who care. Friends can be selfish. I selfishly want you to come spend winter break with me.”
He sets his last bite of sandwich down, slides on his glasses (that he only wears while working in the library) and pushes his chair six inches back from the table. I figure he’s either about to stand up and walk away without a word or jump up and run away screaming. But he surprises me when he crosses one leg over the other and asks, “How exactly would this work?” He nudges his glasses higher up his nose and I feel a tingle roll through my body.
I clear my throat, “This is where I’m selfish. My parents are great, but all that time with just the three of us is a lot. Too much. My house has a guest bedroom that never gets used. We don’t have to go for the whole three weeks. We can stay here until we’re kicked out so you won’t miss any work shifts. We can come back as soon as the dorms reopen.”
He makes a face, “It’s Christmas. The holidays. I can’t barge in on family time.”
“Over Thanksgiving, my parents were asking me all about school, friends and my roommate. I told them
about you.”
He makes another face.
“No, not about your family or about money. I told them about you. I told them about my best friend, Alfie. They already feel like they know you. They want to meet you. They invited you to come home with me for a visit. When I mentioned that it was going to be tough for you to make home for the holidays this year, they actually insisted that I bring you home with me. It would make them happy.”
He mists up over that. It breaks my heart a little that he’s surprised to be wanted.
He says, “I’ve never met them but I can already tell the family resemblance. You get your sweet generosity from them.”
“The train ride doesn’t cost much,” I add. “My parents already bought the tickets. I mean… I didn’t presume… They just offered… Don’t be mad.”
“Mad? At you?” He smiles, “I was mad at you once ever and it lasted for all of five seconds.” He pops the last bite of his sandwich in his mouth, “The train tickets are part of the invitation. I understand.” He crumples his sandwich wrapper. “And I accept. A community, right? And while I wouldn’t be looking forward to sleeping in my cold car, that’s not why I accepted. I would have accepted your invitation over a free trip to Hawaii. I accepted because my best friend asked me.”
He was right when he told me that I just needed to talk to him. I asked and he said yes. We both stand and for the first time ever, he hugs me.
~~
It’s the last day that the dorms are open and most of the student body has already cleared out. We’re set to leave this afternoon. I’m in the gym with Ken and Gus getting in a good last workout and I actually have no idea where Alfie is. Gus and I are side by side finishing up our sets while Ken flexes and poses for himself in front of the mirrors. That is so very Ken of him. He keeps lifting his shirt and checking out his abs too.
Gus says, “Just look at him. He should just date himself. That’s the only thing that might put an end to his streak of break ups.”
“He does seem to have a new girlfriend every week, doesn’t he?” I ask. “Why is that?”
“Because he finds himself to be prettier than any of them.”
“And because he wants to show off his dick to the whole campus.” We both chuckle.
Ken shouts over his shoulder, “Where’s Alf?”
“Not sure,” I shout back. “This isn’t really his scene.”
Gus says, “He uses the treadmills sometimes.”
“He didn’t say where he was going.”
“I just had the best idea.” Ken is excited. “You know how our man always wins at Strip Mario Kart?”
“Thanks again, Ken, for bringing the ‘strip’ part into our lives,” Gus deadpans.
“But he doesn’t just win, he’s never even has to take off a stinking shoe.”
“Yeah.”
Ken grins, “Lets get him to play strip weightlifting. We’ll have him naked within minutes.”
I look at Gus and let him take this one, “Ken, you’re a moron.”
Ken shrugs and goes back to posing in the mirror.
Gus asks me, “So this is your parents’ first time meeting Alf?”
“Mmm hmm,” I reply while taking a swig from my water bottle. “Why?”
“Are you…” he trails off.
“Am I what?”
“How are you introducing him?”
I wipe my brow with my towel. “Like Alfie, Alf or Alfonso? I guess whatever he wants them to call him is fine, but he’s always Alfie to me.”
“No,” Gus scratches his head. “I mean, like who is he to you?”
I count off on my fingers, “My best friend. The guy who saved me from failing multiple classes, lets me borrow his car on Saturday’s so I can get to work, drops me off at the train station whenever I visit home…” I raise an eyebrow, “What are you getting at?”
“It just seems like… You two just are so… Never mind. It’s none of my business.”
“Gus, just say what you want to say.”
“Yeah, I’m the moron!” It’s Ken’s voice startling me from behind. He grabs my shoulders and spins me around. “What my man Gus here is fantastically failing to say is that you are taking your boyfriend home to meet your parents.”
“What?! We’re not—”
“Yes you are. It’s just that you two are the last to see it.”
My cheeks burn, “He’s my best friend.”
Gus says, “He’s more than that.”
Ken asks, “How come you never date anyone?”
“Because you’ve used up all the girls.”
Gus giggles at that, but Ken shoots him a look. “Dex, I don’t know if you like girls or boys or both or neither. I’ve strutted my stuff in front of you multiple times and you never gave me a second look.”
Gus laughs again.
Ken continues, “Who gives a shit about labels anyway. I don’t think anyone is 100% anything. But wherever you land on the spectrum, there is one undeniable fact: There is someone that you already like. Your heart is taken. That’s why you don’t date anyone.”
Gus says, “He’s not wrong.”
“I don’t—”
Ken squeezes my shoulders, “Dex, close your eyes.”
I hesitate, then do what he says.
“Picture Alf.”
Okay. My eyes are still closed and there’s Alfie. His mop of wild brown tangles, his big brown eyes, his smooth olive skin, his oversized, overused hoodie that he swims in, his big feet on his modest frame and his smile. I find that my toes curl in my sneakers and my penis is coming to life.
Ken asks, “You’ve got him in mind?”
I keep my eyes closed and nod.
“Good. Now tell us – What do you feel?”
What do I feel? My heart is racing, my face is flushing, my chest is warm, my whole body tingles…
I say, “I gotta go.”
~~
An hour later, I’m in our room and Alfie finally walks in.
“Where’ve you been all day?” I ask.
He pulls a foil wrapped dish out from behind his back and hands it to me. It’s warm in my hands. I fold back a corner and I’m hit with a delicious aroma. “What is it?”
“Mexican cornbread,” he says. “It’s a family recipe. One of the few things from my family that I value.”
“You made this?”
“You know, baking is chemistry. I’m a science guy. Don’t be so surprised.”
“But how? Where?”
“In the dining hall kitchen.”
“It closed for break last night.”
“You know Tommy who works in the dining hall?”
I’m not sure that I do but I say, “Yeah.”
He says, “I tutored him in calculus so he owed me one. He let me use the facilities. It’s for your parents. Do you think they’ll like it?”
I look him up and down. In his hoodie, a pair of sweatpants that I gave him because I told him they shrunk, his old beat up sneakers because he was working in the kitchen… What’s not to like? “They’re gonna love it,” I say. “How long does it last?”
He shrugs, “A week. Why?”
I set the dish down on my desk and lead Alfie to my bed and we sit. “Because we’re not leaving tonight. We’re going in the morning.”
“Why? Don’t they kick us out tonight?”
I shake my head, “I talked to Mickey, the RA. He said as long as we’re out by noon tomorrow, we can stay the night.”
“Everyone else is leaving or already gone. What’s going on?”
“We need to talk. And not on the train or in my parent’s house. We need to talk alone.”
“But Dex… We have train tickets for this afternoon.”
“I called and exchanged them for a departure tomorrow.”
“The dining hall is closed.”
“I ordered a pizza. It’ll be here at 9:00.”
“Your parents are expecting us.”
“Tomorrow. I called them too.”
“What is this all about?”
I point to the Mexican cornbread and say, “That’s what it’s all about. You have so little and yet no one gives more than you.”
“But you delayed our trip before you even knew about the cornbread.” He scratches his head.
I chuckle, “It’s not really about the cornbread. That’s just a convenient example.” I place my hands on his shoulders, “Alfie, you’re not just my best friend in college, you’re the best friend I’ve ever had.”
“Me too,” he smiles.
“But it’s more than that.”
He cocks an eyebrow.
“Alfonso—”
“Whoa. You’ve never called me Alfonso before. Am I in trouble?”
Maybe he is. Maybe I am. Or we both are? I take his hand and he doesn’t pull it away. “I really like you.”
Now he pulls it away. But he uses it to touch the side of my face. I don’t pull away either. Then his other hand does the same. He pulls me down to him and he kisses me. His lips are warm and soft and moist. We alternate kissing. Him then me. Him then me. Without stopping the kissing, his hands go to work on unbuttoning my flannel shirt. And it’s while this is happening that I become suddenly insecure.
I stop him, taking his wrists in my hands. “You’re not… This isn’t because you don’t want to hurt my feelings or anything, is it? You know you don’t owe me anything.”
He smiles again, “I like you too, you big dope.”
“You’re not just saying that?”
He sighs dramatically, “Dex, you are the sweetest boy on the planet. You have literally saved my life. You make me eat! You buy my gas, you make sure I’m okay… You also make me laugh and you make me feel valued. It’s hard to quantify. But no, I don’t feel obligated to return your affection.” He points down and I let my eyes follow. His sweatpants are tented with a huge erection. He says, “Dex, your fucking hot!”
I snort.
He continues, “I could just say what I think you want to hear. Words can be liars, but dicks can’t. Dicks tell the truth, and right now? My dick is screaming its truth. This is the effect you have me. You and only you.”
I smile back. And then he starts the kissing again. This time with more passion. He bites my lower lip. His tongue wiggles into my mouth and meets my own tongue. Alfie tastes so good. He finally finishes my shirt buttons and he unwraps me like a present. He drinks me in with his eyes. “Dex…” He has no more words, but his grin speaks volumes.
I blush again. But I feel alive. I feel right. I feel like this is home. My new home. I grab a fist full of his hoodie and I pull the whole thing off of him. It’s my turn to drink him in. I see a wave of self-consciousness pass across his face and I hold up a hand. He might not be all muscles but my god is he beautiful. Olive toned and contoured all over. The ridges of his ribs, the curves of his navel, the jutting out collar bones… He is a living work of art. I could just stare at him forever and never get bored.
I bury my face in his neck and he laughs. I kiss and nibble and lick and suck and kiss and I realize that he is covered in goosebumps. I lay him back on the bed, holding hands with interlocked fingers and with me on top, I kiss the hell out of him for the next hour. Our mouths are raw when I begin to kiss down his neck. I release his hands as my mouth glides down his chest. I drift my fingers down his inner arms, through his thin armpit hair, down his rib cage on both sides and down to the waistband of his sweatpants. My mouth continues southbound until I run out of real estate and I untie the string of his sweats with my teeth. His erection is still going strong.
I pull down the interfering garment and find that he is going commando. One less obstacle in my way. His firm cock stands proud as I realize that his feet aren’t the only thing big for his frame. Wow! I honestly think that Ken would be jealous. He’s breathing heavy in anticipation. I take his manhood in my hand and he gasps. I lick the length of his shaft and he moans in pleasure. My hands are big, but Alfie is a handful. And probably a mouthful. It’s time to find out. At first I can only take about a quarter of him in, but within a few minutes, I’m going deeper. I know I’m too slurpy and sloppy but he probably figures it’s my first time and he doesn’t seem to care. He’s lost in the moment. Besides, what I lack in experience, I make up for in effort.
I get into a nice rhythm that I can tell he likes, His breaths become choppy. I’m simultaneously moving my mouth up and down while giving suction and swirling my tongue clockwise. It’s not easy to do, but I keep at it. Alfie grabs fistfuls of my hair, but then, not wanting to choke me, releases the pressure. I keep my newly discovered routine going and his whole body begins to quiver. He releases my hair and slaps the mattress.
“Dex, I’m about to come,” he pants. I keep doing what I’m doing. His toes curl and I keep going. His back arches and I keep going. He screams and I keep going. He explodes in my mouth. I still keep going. He thrashes and shudders and screams some more before I finally let up. It’s a good thing the dorm is pretty much deserted. When it’s over, he lies there like a limp ragdoll for a long time, just panting. Once he comes back to life, he rises from the bed and returns with two sweat socks and two neckties. He quickly ties me to the bed posts, just like that night he tickled me.
He says, “I can’t pin you down, but I can still have my way with you. I promise this time, tickling is not on the menu.”
But he does go down to the foot of the bed and he lovingly undresses my feet. He slowly works off each shoe and sock, savoring the moment before giving me a soothing, gentle foot massage. He massages his way up my calves, over my knees and up my thighs. He works his way through my button fly situation and gives my erect penis a breath of fresh air. I feel the cool air of the room as my head glistens in precum. He takes his time caressing and kissing my face, my mouth, my neck, my nipples and my stomach. The blood pressure in my dick is about to explode.
Finally, his hands go where they were born to be – wrapped around my throbbing shaft. He does a lot more with his hands than I did to him, but I have no complaints. His fingers are magic. He strokes and rubs and presses in positions and rhythms that I never would have imagined. I am his instrument and Alfie is a maestro.
When he finally takes me in his mouth, I’m already close to losing it. He is initially as awkward as I was, but he’s a fast learner and based on his enthusiasm for the work, I seem to be his new favorite subject. As he works me as relentlessly as I worked him, I realize that I’m about to enjoy the orgasm of my life, not because of what is happening to me, but because of who is doing it. Alfie is doing this to me. The boy who gives me unexplainable tingles when he looks at me is showering me with attention and love. And knowing that I have the same effect on him turns me on even more.
My whole body hums as I get closer. I give him the same courtesy warning that he gave me, but he doesn’t stop either. The magic combination of his mouth and hands is an ecstasy that I never knew existed. I need to grab ahold of something, but I can’t. I’m still tied up. I grasp at air. I kick at space. His tongue does a new swirl in the opposite direction and that lights the fuse. The countdown has begun and there’s no going back now. He said he wouldn’t tickle me but his dangling hair sweeping across my lean belly as he works me like a machine is doing just that. Another sensation added into the mix. My whole body seems to float above the bed as I jolt in intense orgasm.
He unties my limbs before collapsing against me and we nuzzle and cuddle and doze in and out of sleep for an hour. We curl into each other and fit perfectly, like we were made to be together. When I ordered the pizza for the late hour of 9:00, I thought the hours were going to be filled with taking. Well, I guess we expressed ourselves alright, just with way fewer words than I imagined.
I tell Alfie, “Your bed over there is so nicely made. It would be a shame to mess it up. I think you’ll need to sleep with me tonight.”
“In that case, I’m not sure how much actual sleep will be gotten.”
“We’ll need some rest. It’s a big day tomorrow. My parents are meeting my boyfriend.”
“Boyfriend,” he says, grinning. “I love that. Hey, how do you think Ken and Gus will react? Will this affect our friendship? Should we not tell them?”
I smile. I’d like to think that I would have eventually extracted my head from my ass on my own, but they definitely gave me a much appreciated nudge in the right direction. “I have a really strong feeling they’re gonna be cool with it. Besides, they’ll be able to tell by the lovesick look on my face every time I look at you.” I hug him tightly. “I think they’ll be just fine. The way Ken acts all the time, that’s just for show. He’s a lot more intuitive and sensitive than he lets on.”
He grins again and my heart skips a beat. He starts kissing me again and my cock has already sprung back to life. So has his. There’s a bit of a sword fight going on down there. And then we slow and we’re kissing head-to-head in two places. It’s gonna be hard to leave this bed in the morning. It’s almost 9:00 and I really don’t want to get up to deal with the pizza dude. My hands snake around front to his belly and I scope out the situation. His abdomen trembles from my exploring touch, but I verify that he’s maintaining his weight. We could skip one meal, right? Maybe get a big breakfast on the way to the train station tomorrow. Or maybe my parents won’t mind if there’s a couple pieces missing from the Mexican cornbread.