At registration I had no idea who my room mate would be. Although my final year I had no friends to share with. Anyone I met would be new. While waiting in the line I scanned the room. My eye was taken by a young man’s tosseled light brown hair. His jaw and nose cut squarely against the background of the crowd. A lock fell limply down across his eyebrow. Taller than the rest in his line, he stood somewhat numb. Everything around him seemed distant. He clearly did not connect.
I moved my head but not my feet, in order to maintain the authority of my place in the line. Instinctively I was curious to see if his arms and chest matched the sculptured quality of his head.
In small glimpses I saw the roundness of biceps, the swelling of pectorals. Then for a moment, still beneath a swaying loose t-shirt, the narrowing of a white slender waist. I turned away. Looking would only be torture.
And why am I relating this to you. Because it was the inevitable. They desk gave me my room assignment. They gave me the key. The dorm was a few blocks away. No sense hurrying. I came with only a few things. I’m not one who needs much in life. I stopped for something to eat along the way. By now, it was evening. Up to the dorm, my one satchel over my back, the key in the lock. I fumbled. It wouldn’t turn. I insisted. It wouldn’t give. Then, quickly it opened. It opened from inside.
“Hi,” he said, water still dripping from the locks of hair drooping before his eyes. A towel, hung loose and low around his waist. Yes, it was he. My eyes trembled more than my heart. They lost all direction. First his waist, so slender and white and still glistening with water; then his chest and the firm curves of the pecs highlighted by small nipples extending with the temptation for lips; the neck, ivory and pink and slipping softly into the recess of the throat, shoulders round and leaning forward for my grasp, arms long and full with muscle and sinew. The blood rushed from my head and I swooned slightly against the door jamb.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes, yes. It’s just...” I invented. “It’s just I haven’t eaten all day, all the lines, the waiting, the confusion.”
“Here, give me your stuff.”
He took my bag. He turned. The weight he held unfolded the rhythms of his broad back as it descended to the slightness of his waist. And beneath , the roundness of his hips raised the white towel out beyond in a lush curve. Below the towels rim, full calves strode on delicate ankles.
“Here you go.” he set my things on the bed then retreated to the bathroom. This was an impossibility. How could I live this way. He was dressing now. Unseen. I imagined each piece of clothing as it concealed the wonder. The boxers rising. The waistband pushing up his soft cock and then his cock falling loosely into place behind the opening of the fly. The polo shirt, fitting around the curves of chest and biceps. The slacks, riding to the slender waist.
How would I manage.
The bathroom door opened. He emerged more sublime that my imagination dressed him. He cast the wet towel on his bed. “Catch you later.” He quickly left the room, his hair still wet, his round hips the last thing I saw as he closed the door behind him.
That night I was alone in the room. It was after eleven. Exhausted and still quaking from the afternoon greeting I undressed for bed. My last glance was toward the wet towel still on his bed.
I reached out to touch it. I wanted to hold it to me but didn’t dare. I wanted to stroke myself, to imagine him with me, but it was too much and sleep was stronger than lust.
“Ah, damn, it’s wet.” I heard him muttering.
“I can’t sleep in this.”
“Hey - you awake?”
I didn’t move. Fear seized me.
“Hey, mind if I share?”
I still didn’t move. The possibilities were too enormous.
I felt the sheet and cover move from my side. I felt his weight beside me. My heart was ready to burst from my chest.
Quietly, feigning movement in sleep, I repositioned. I lay on my stomach, my hands a bit extended. He moved to fit himself in the bed. I moved my hand, palm up, further out. He fidgeted again. His hip was touching the edge of my open palm. We stay that way for what seemed ages. Sleep no longer held me. Fear and desire had taken its place.
Then, he moved again, moved closed to me, moved his hip across my palm. Inside the soft cotton on his boxers his cock and balls were centered within my grasp. He pushed. He stirred.
Was he doing this on purpose? Was he too, awake?
I could no longer restrain myself. I began to clench my fingers, slowly, softly, moving the cotton. He responded. But was he asleep? Then my fingers found their way through the vent, past the cotton. Never had I felt skin so soft, so supple and such a delicate cock. My fingers found the hair, silk and warm against his skin, they discovered the roundness of his balls and the flacid folds that encased them. His cock began to pulse. It began to grow. It was full and long and mounting upward towards his belly.
I tore back the sheets and covers. He turned on his back. He was indeed awake. His cock rose in the barely lit room and shown with a soft white glow. His face turned toward me and like a god descending his lips met mine. My fingers seized the curls of his hair and our bodies joined our mouths. Apart for a moment, I reached down and ripped off his boxers, pulling them quickly the length of those wondrous legs. He in turn lifted off my t-shirt and pulled down my shorts. As he moved upward his mouth rested on my navel and slowly his tongue worked its way down my belly, through the curls of dark hair and under my dick to the sack of my balls. My cock, however, was still limp. Fear and panic had denied its strength. His mouth moved from my balls to the tip of my cock. Soft within his lips his tongue moved around it with ferocity. Suddenly his fingers moved between my legs to my ass and with a direct thrust he penetrated my ass. My cock rose to bursting and was ready to spill itself. I stopped him for fear of coming at that moment.
My mouth returned to his and I lay upon him, chest against chest, cock against cock, rubbing and sliding. My legs slipped around his waist. My ass sat directly on his hard rod. The muscles of his chest heaved and I leaned down to taste the sweetness of his small upright nipples. The pleasure of his hard cock against my ass drove me incapable of control.
“Fuck me, fuck me,” I begged.
“Not yet” . He said. Then he left me - stood up beside the bed. “Look at me first.” He knew. He knew his beauty. In the half dark, I saw the most magnificent form. The Greek god, with curled locks, piercing eyes , a neck of greatest delicacy, a powerful chest in flawless proportion tapering to the slightest waist. Full hips, rounded and begging for fucking lunged from his rear torso. Fine legs that ended in graceful feet. And in the center, a white rod of solid build, a full head, and greatly sagging balls. I fell to my knees and my mouth fell first upon his shaft and then quickly behind to search between those perfectly rounded cheeks.
Suddenly, he reached down and grabbed me. In a single move he lifted me up and sat me astride his shoulders. My dick was directly in his face. His soft lips clenched around my cock as my hands grasped his thick rich hair in unspeakable ecstasy. My cum rose in torrents and filled his mouth. Spurting again and again, my balls against his chin, my dick in his mouth, my ass spread across his neck. Never had I felt such joy, such pleasure.
His eyes looked up to me. I collapsed over his head. “Now, now, I’ll fuck you.”
With that he put me back upon the bed. He took one leg in each hand and spread me apart.
Pushing me up, he posed his upright cock directly over my hole. There he stood, in all his splendor, that magnificent form ready to enter me.
“Now, now,” I cried.
He pushed down his upright cock and set it against me. He pushed. My sweat was enough to let him enter. He pushed again and groaned. It was in me. He was in me. My ass tightened. It squeezed around that long white cock, that rod of incredible strength. He pushed again and again he groaned. He was in deeper. His dick struck my prostate. The thrust moved to the base of my throat. Then he began the beat. In and out, in and out again and again his dick hit its mark. I squeezed tighter and tighter. His chest was over me. His mouth sought me out. Out faces together. He let go of my legs and wrapped his arms around my chest. Again we were together. We were one, his dick deep within my, our tongues intertwined. He heaved and screamed. I felt the heat deep inside.
In exhaustion he withdrew and we lay together, our dicks, now soft and delicate, side by side. Our faces cheek to cheek.
Ned's two stepdaughters made no bones about showing their dislike for him. He got his revenge through a neat little hole in the closet...
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