Alien Culture

The Alien Culture Project, part 22 By Rio Mack

DISCLAIMER: Contains depictions of gay sex.

Back at his dorm room, after Brock dropped him off, Chance checked his cell phone and found two messages from Reed he'd missed: the first one said Reed'd be late - he was doing a photo shoot for an undergear e-tail site, modeling a new collection of jock straps - and that they'd hook up around 7:30 at his dorm; the second one informed Chance it'd be more like 8 when they'd meet, and he added, "Sorry this is taking so long, they want me for some underwear pics, too. I can't walk away from the money. To make it up for you I got us free tix for a dance performance at 8:30 - hope you didn't have your heart set on a movie - and reservations for dinner afterwards at this really cool restaurant downtown - my treat. You'll love the dance thing, I promise, and it'll be so cool to be on a real date with you. Love you, man. See you soon. And try not to fuck TOO many boys in the dorm til I get there!"

Chance smiled, grooving on the strong, heady passion he had for this wonderful boy. There was just such a rightness in his love for Reed. He was flooded with images of a long, exciting future with him - the two of them living together, the million small joys of domesticity, taking interesting trips, sharing joys and sorrows, talking about books they'd read, trying new restaurants or old haunts, shooping for clothes together, watching each other's careers unfold, and having the kind of rich sex life Wyatt and Jesse enjoyed. Those two were his role models now, and he wanted to have the same kind of thrilling life with Reed that his coach shared with his lover. Soul-mate was maybe a corny term, but that's exactly what Reed felt like to Chance, the missing piece he thought he'd never find, which had suddenly turned up in such a surprising way and snapped perfectly, immediately, into place.

Then he thought about their upcoming date that night. He'd never seen professional dance in person before - just a couple of video performances in high school over the years - and he was totally amped for the experience, mainly because of what he'd found out about dance from the research he'd done on Greek culture as part of his term paper for English class. Dance was a huge element in a young boy's physical training in the ancient Greek gymnasia. Plato thought a young man who couldn't dance was uneducated and unrefined. In Sparta, every year, to worship Apollo, they held the gymnopaedia, the festival of naked youth, where all the beautiful, muscular youths would dance nude, accompanied by a flute or lyre, showing off their responsive bodies and athletic skills (mostly wrestling skills, he'd learned, which made total sense to him, the similarity between wrestling and dancing, in terms of the balletic moves, power, balance, and bodily control needed for both). The festival was held during the hottest part of the summer, so the boys not only exhibited their muscular grace through these dances, but they got an incredible workout. Chance remembered how hard he'd gotten in the library when he'd read the description of the gymnopaedia, fantasizing about all those muscular young boys gleaming and sweaty in the hot sun, showing off their physical beauty and prowess, doubtlessly ogled at by the excited male audience. He'd even imagined his wrestling team doing something like that as part of their practice sessions.

So he was very much enthused to see what a contemporary dance performance looked like, whether it had any of the classical elements to it. Leave it to Reed to know just what would interest him, what he needed to know. Plus, he smiled, feeling his dick thicken, maybe there'd be a couple of hot male dancers to watch. Girl dancers would be fine to see too, of course, but he was really hoping there might be a totally rippped, muscular dude or two he could watch working his body with sexy style and grace.

He checked the clock on his cell phone and saw he had about 3 hours now before Reed was due. Dang, he thought sheepishly, I coulda spent another hour or so back there at Troy's. He was amazed at how horny he still was, even after all the satisfying sex he'd had that day. But it made sense to him - before, when he never got laid, he'd beat off maybe four, five times a day - often twice in one session, using the cream from the huge load he'd shot to slather his still hard cock, dreamily coaxing out more cum. Now it's like he's found a kind of 'support group,' he'd guess you could call it - a group of hot, young guys who needed to get off just as much as he did, who needed to have the kind of deep-down relief for their sexual desires that only hard muscle, hot cocks, and tight asses could provide. And the more sex you had, he reasoned, probably the more testosterone you produced, which made you want more sex. It was so cool he'd found these guys who were as into hot, rugged sex as he was. It was wonderful to be able to indulge your most primal desires with each other, affording each other such a totally satisfying, awesomely erotic outlet for a dude's most elemental bodily passions.

Speaking of a dude's body, Chance realized he hadn't done much in the way of exercise today - other than frisbee, fucking, and horsing around in the pool - so he used the extra time to strip down to his jock, stretch, and do his 'hundreds' - a hundred each of regular push-ups, incline push-ups, triceps push-ups, pull-ups (from the bar he'd mounted on the doorframe of his closet), chin-ups, calf raises, leg raises, crunches, twisties, and reverse cruches. It felt so good working his body that he decided to push each set, going twenty or thirty over on his abs and lower body routine.

When he was done, he was a straining, sweaty mess, but he felt gloriously pumped. He stripped off his sweat-soaked jock and brought it to his face, inhaling his musky, intoxicating odor (Taylor, you're a total perv, he thinks, but jocks just smell too fuckin' fine; he sniffed 'em the way some boys sniffed poppers - for a total head-rush), and he even sucked out some of the good, clean boy-sweat. He threw his jock on his bed and finished his work-out with about twenty minutes of yoga stretches. He wanted to be pumped, limber, and ready for action with Reed tonight. Those highschoolers were a sweet diversion, but he was horny as fuck again and wanted some hot, athletic sex with a stud his own age.

Before heading to the shower, he caught sight of his naked torso in the full-length mirror on Tommy's closet door. He stared intently at his reflection, flexing and posing after his hour-long workout. He hadn't done this in a long time, it seemed: have a long session in front of the mirror, studying his body. It used to be his primary sexual outlet, before Reed: checking out his body, getting turned on by it, flexing and watching his muscles pump, rubbing his hard, curved mass until he was so overcome with a kind of breathless eroticism that he began fanatsizing, pinching his nipples, panting, letting his tongue play over his lips, clenching his ass, and thrusting his hips back and forth; then the ball play, the jacking, the finger-fucking, until, in a lust-drenched tremor, he'd splatter the mirror in exquisite release.

"Ain't had to clean up too many mirrors since I hooked up with my fella and a group of like-minded dudes," he smiled to himself as he flexed and stared.

But this particular session in the mirror became a minor revelation to him: the month or so away from his mom's cooking, along with all the steady weight training, the grueling wrestling practice in that small gym Wyatt kept so steamy, and the hours of cardio he did each week (and let's not forget all the sex lately, he thought, with his goofy cowboy grin, that must burn up some calories), had taken their toll in a way he'd just now noticed. Fuck, was he ripped! He must have lost fifteen pounds of fat in the past month, and shit did it look good on him. His muscles weren't so much bigger, as they were jaw-droppingly ripe and carved. Any trace of fat was gone, he saw, as he twisted this way and that. All that was left was big, full, hard, beautiful curves. He was big, powerful, yes, but his muscle mass was totally lean - not bulky at all like, say, CJ, his friend on the football team. He kept staring in disbelief - his body had him hard as hell; he was all sheer, mouth-watering muscle. It was obscene how hot he looked! It was like there was no more fat to burn, all he was doing now was enhancing, refining, burnishing muscle. He rubbed his hands over his body - not rubbed, really, glided; it felt so fucking sensual! His ass - like fucking stone. His fingers slid sexily over the smooth round glutes and down into his crack, all hard and firm. Hmmm, though, he could use another shave on his crack, he noticed. He wanted Reed's tongue to skate effortlessly up and down between his marble cheeks, readying his hole for that sweet Brazilian torpedo.

His gaze lingered on his abs - having access to the Roman chair in the gym, plus doing his hundreds crunch routine almost daily, had produced amazing results. His eight-pack was thick, defined, ripply, sensual; it looked shrink-wrapped. He let his fingers play over the best slab he'd ever seen, mesmerized by how much more they'd popped out in the past month. They were way better than even Brock's now, he thought, just erotic as hell. No wonder Tommy kept calling him Porn Star. Was there anything sexier on a guy that a totally ripped 8-pack? His definition was droolingly luscious: huge thick ropes, carved deeply out of his midsection, those gorgeous grooves of his Apollo's belt over each hip, and that long deep groove down the center, just crying out for a guy's tongue to explore.

His upper arms were much better defined, too - he saw sexy muscles appear in his guns he'd never even known were in there before. His quads, too, were all grooves, mounds, and curves. He was 100% prime beef now, covered by a thin, sexy layer of skin. You'd be hard-pressed to pinch so much as a sixteenth of an inch of that skin. He turned and stared at his backside: not an ounce of fat around his waist back there, beautiful hollows in his glutes, every muscle in his back carved, and those huge calves bulging out like ripe, juicy grapefruits. He turned back around: his cock looked so luscious, hanging down all thick and tasty from his smooth, carved mass, the tip just poking out from his thick hood of foreskin, his big silky ballsac drooping with two sexy eggs, the whole package set off so tantalizingly by the beautifully-groomed barely-visible shadow of his pubic hairs. What a fucking stud, he thought to himself unbelievably. No wonder Jesse wanted another photo session with him. He goes off to college a total corn-fed bumpkin and winds up a gay-porn icon - too fucking much! Popping into his mind was the phrase his mom used to tease him with - "You're God's gift to women, son, that's fer sure!" and he grinned sheepishly to think of himself now as God's gift to men. His dick felt so full and powerful hanging down proudly between his legs.

As he stared at himself he saw one thing he wanted to change: on the drive home with Brock, they'd passed a big billboard with a picture of one of the sexiest guys Chance had ever seen, modeling underwear. Brock told him it was some Swedish soccer star or something. One of the things Chance thought looked totally hot on the guy was his buzz cut - he had his head shaved skin-close, which seemed to kick up his sensuality several notches. Chance looked like he had a mop-top compared to this guy. He definitely wanted to try that look out, surprise Reed with it tonight. He wanted to be as sexy as possible for Reed - give him a totally erotic body to do with as he pleased. That dude's close-shaved head had looked so fuckin' sexy, and Chance thought he had just the head for it: perfect, smooth shape and those subtle, sexy ridges on either side up top. He'd even like to buzz his beard-stubble just a might, to make it match what he was gonna do to his head. He thought that look would make him look macho as hell. Like Wyatt, who looked like such a hard-core, sexy-ass Marine stud. Grabbing a towel and his shave kit, he went next door to Kyle's, to see if he had an electric shaver. He could hear music or something playing inside when he knocked.

"Door's open," Kyle yelled. Chance grinned when he opened the door. Tommy and Kyle were in bed, nude, playing with each other's ripe jock-cocks while watching what was obviously a gay porn flick.

"You two ever left that bed at all today?" he asked, laughing.

"Shit, yeah," Tommy said. "We had to, in order to rent these vid's. Kyle and I wanna watch a bunch o' gay porn so's we can pick up some pointers. It was my idea. Makes sense, huh? I figgered it'd be like studyin' film to get ready for game day, y'know?"

Chance smiled and shook his head. They were such a cute couple - the big, blonde hockey stud and the cute, lean, laid-back soccer boy. Chance watched them stroking their firm, thick pricks in obvious delight. He couldn't help but notice they were both eying him up and down as much as he was drinking in their gorgeous bodies. So cool, he thought, boys able to just immerse themselves in sweet, strong, homoerotic desire like this. What a golden time this is for him and his friends. As he stared at those long luscious pricks, he noticed something.

"Hey, you guys shaved. Looks hot as fuck!"

"Thanks," Kyle said dreamily. "My idea. We want to wear those hot, low-riding jeans like you got, so I thought we should groom ourselves to get ready. Plus," he blushed, "all us boys are sucking each other off so damn much lately - and you gotta admit, it's way sexier without all the hair! Never thought about shaving when I dated girls, cause I never got too much head, I guess. But now that I'm, like, way into cocksucking, I know what feels sexy as shit. I can't get enough o' Tommy's cock now that he's so silky smooth."

Kyle had trimmed and shaved his own patch so there was just a narrow inch-thick rectangular V, dotted right above his cock, the only patch of hair on an otherwise smooth, lean body. And he'd trimmed back that sweet little patch to maybe an eighth-inch long. Mmmm, Kyle was right: Chance could hardly wait til his own tongue could play around in that sexy little bush. And Tommy was shaved totally smooth, like Reed and Brock. It looked fucking hot as hell - he was now all hard, sexy muscle and smooth, lickable skin. God, it got Chance hard just looking at that perfect muscle-stud now, huge cock standing out so beautifully, begging to be sucked. It took everything Chance had not to go over there and chow down.

"Damn," he said, throat a little dry, "you both look sexy as hell."

"Thanks, dawg. You, too. So, what's up?"

"Oh, speaking of shaving, I wondered if you guys had an electric shaver. I wanna buzz my head alittle afore I go out tonight."

"Sure," said Kyle. "Right there on top of my dresser. I just used it on Tommy and me, before the razor and cream. Help yourself."

"Hey, Porn Star, you and Reed are stopping by later tonight, right?" Tommy asked, unable to hide the hopeful note in his voice. He wanted another mini-orgy so fucking bad. He had to feel that incredible-looking cock of Chance's up his ass.

"Plan to. We're goin' to a dance concert and then dinner. I'm thinkin' we might swing by here about eleven. That cool?"

"Excellent," said Tommy, totally amped for a nightcap of sex with Kyle and Chance and Chance's boyfriend. Hi ass tingled in expectation. Shit, he thought, was this ever the life or what? What the fuck did I waste all those years for with chicks who just weren't into it? Oh well, better late, he smiled, relishing the feel of Kyle's hard, fleshy cock in his hands.

"I'm so psyched about this date tonight. Hey, if I need to borrow any clothes later, you guys down with that?"

"Sure," Tommy laughed, "If we get to rip 'em offa ya afterwards! Seriously, hook up with me before you go; you can have anything I got." Then Tommy turned to Kyle and planted a huge, long soul-kiss on him. When he pulled out, he said, lustily, "Cause I don't plan on wearin' ANY clothes for the rest of the night."

"Hey," said Kyle, "we're gonna order a pizza later from that dude you told us about."

"Hold off on the sex, then, til he gets here. And be sure to have one of those vid's playing when he comes. He is one hot fucking stud, who can't get enough college-boy cock. Tell 'em I said hello, and that my boyfriend and I are developing a real taste for pizza again. Shit, now that I remember what a horndog Blaine is, I'm thinkin' you boys might be totally fucked dry by eleven! But Reed and I'll stop by just to make sure."

"I'll save a load or two for you, Taylor, don't worry!" Tommy grinned. To be able to tease and banter so frankly like this, so unashamedly, with the promise of glorious sex hovering over everything - it was just the kind of rich erotic life Tommy had craved.

Chance grabbed the shaver, gave both his friends an intimate, masculine, gay-jock kiss, and headed for the shower room at the end of the hall.

About ten minutes later Tag Malone, a junior on the swim team, headed into the shower himself. Tag was getting ready for a date he was going on. He and Cynthia, his girlfriend, were going out to dinner, and then they had tickets for the Josh Turner Dance Company afterwards. Tag guessed he was sort of looking forward to the evening. The dance part - definitely. He and Cynthia had seen them Friday night, dancing a different program, and Tag had absolutely loved it. Josh Turner was an amazing dancer; Tag couldn't take his eyes off him. He was an incredible athlete, and handsome as hell, who had assembled an all-male company of some of the most beautiful men Tag had ever seen.

'Beautiful,' that was the only word Tag could use. They wore so little when they performed, it was impossible not to marvel at the incredibly lean musculature rippling across the stage, clothed in just a pair of almost see-through, skin-tight, calf-length tights or maybe a dancer's jock - they even did a long dance in the second half of the program totally nude (Cynthia, who, as a theatre major, knew so much about the arts scene, told him that was their trademark, always doing a long nude piece in their concerts). Tag thought he'd bust a nut during that one, his dick was that fucking hard. He was glad the gob of precum that leaked through his boxers onto his jeans had dried by the last encore. Afterwards, he'd just raved about it all night long. He'd told Cyn, whether you were man or woman, gay or straight, you couldn't help but be swept away with that utterly sensual, bodily perfection on display. Sheer eroticism in form and movement, he'd called it. So his girlfriend, who genuinely wanted to make him happy, suggested they go to the second program tonight. Tag jumped at the chance.

The dance part of the evening, then, would be awesome. And it would be nice to see Cynthia, as always. She was so sweet, so smart and funny, such a cool dresser, and so damn cultured. He just wished he felt some sort of spark with her. She sure seemed to feel one for him: she was always trying to get them into bed together, rubbing his dick at the drop of a hat, but Tag just didn't feel like it. And oftentimes, when they did wind up in bed, it was so awkward because his big, floppy cock just sort of lay there, totally unstimulated. Cyn tried everything - sexy lingerie, champagne, pot - but nothing really worked. Tag thought about the dance performance he was going to see that night - gay or straight, you couldn't help but get excited - that's what he'd told Cynthia, trying to sound as intellectual as she was. The nervous doubts crept over him again, mocking him. Which one was he? Gay or straight? It was ridiculous how alluring he found men, really built men. What he loved about the Turner Dance Comapny - admit it - was the way it was like a gay porn spread come to life. Cause Tag sure as hell knew all about gay porn: the only sexual satisfaction he'd had lately was jerking off to those naked hunk sites he'd bookmarked, or paging through the hot photo catalogue of male nudes Cynthia had bought him. Did she suspect? Know? Fuck it! he thought, almost saying it aloud. Sexual frustration was the air he breathed lately.

In the shower room, there was only one other shower in use. It was one down at the end, so he couldn't check the dude out, as he normally would have. They'd taken the curtains off the stalls - easier to clean maybe - which made it all too tempting to sneak peaks at guys under the spray. And sometimes, which was really hot, Tag had been there when some of the gay boys on his floor were fooling around together in a stall. Those times he savored indeed: they'd provided him with incredibly hot material for endless stroke sessions in his bed at night.

He stepped into the closest stall and turned on the spray. As he soaped himself, he thought about how cool it would be if he and Cynthia had a three-way one day, maybe that would get him off. Fuck, yeah, he thought, as his cock grew almost instantly hard - him, Cynthia, and one of those dancers from Josh Turner's company. He'd never been with a guy before, but the desire was driving him nuts. It was like a low-level hunger gnawing at him constantly, with every hot dude he checked out on campus - which was basically every hot dude on campus. He almost dreaded swim team pratices cause he couldn't stop himself staring at the hot boys in the pool, the locker rooom, or the shower. It must be normal, he thought; all guys have to be curious about this. Relax, he said to himself, you're normal. He chuckled bitterly: but normal straight? Or normal gay?

As he soaped, his fantasy kicked in again - him, his girl, and some hot gay-dancer stud. Shit, how hot would that be, the three of them all naked together, in bed? He and the dancer could just explore each other's bodies. God, he'd wanted to do that with so many of the awesome-looking dudes he saw every day, just enjoy every inch of them. And he bet some dude would want to return the favor. Tag wasn't at all ashamed of his body: he'd been a serious swimmer since junior high, working out and practicing religiously, so he had the long, sleek, stretched definition of a swimmer, that lithe, sensuous musculature. And he knew from locker room comparisons he had a really impressive cock. Very long and perfectly formed. It was cut, but he knew a lot of guys preferred a shapely cut head. He'd jacked off to his body in front of the mirror enough times to know how hot he'd look to another guy.

Mmmmmm, he grew so wonderfully hard as his dream-scene played out: he and some lithe, muscular dancer, stroking and kissing, getting off on each other's hard bodies. The dancer would be all sleek and sexy. They'd rub their lean, hard torso's against each other; press together sensuous, masculine lips, alive with the deep passion guys have; feeling their hard, wet pricks rub against themselves, leaking that clear tasty honey Tag loved to scoop off his own cock, then suck their fingers dry.

Damn, he thought, getting achingly hard as he stroked his stiff prick, what would be really cool would be sixty-nining. He'd saved a whole bunch of jpeg's he'd found from his porn sites of hot muscular dudes pleasuring each other's stiff cocks. Fuck, did that ever look hot. Imagine, a hot hard cock in his mouth, being able to just slobber away on it hungrily, while some fine-ass dude did the same to his. Cynthia maybe could play with their asses or balls while they went at it, or maybe just lay back and watch their hot boy-play while she fingered herself.

Tag was getting closer and closer to cumming as he thought of some gorgeous guy fucking him in his hot, willing ass while Cynthia sucked his cock. Fuck, now THAT was the kind of sex that would get him hard as hell. But how could he suggest this to his girlfriend? She'd think he was a raving queer or something. Aw fuck, some incredible dude plugging away at his ass. He'd just ride and ride that stud's nice long cock while his ass screamed in pleasure. Oh yeah, fuck me raw, dude! Feed me every fucking inch of your hot stud prick! He stuck a couple of soapy fingers up his ass as he thought about it. Mmmm, the guy reaching around and jacking his cock, pinching his nipples, and - FUCK! he shot a wonderfully satisfying load all over the shower walls.

He sighed as the hot water sprayed down on him. That'd probably be the only decent sex he'd have tonight. Maybe he'd remind Cynthia after the concert that he had a ton of homework, beg off for the rest of the evening, and save them both the embarrassing frustration.

Suddenly the other boy in the room turned off his shower, stepped into the area in front of the sinks, and toweled off. Fuck, was Tag ever glad he was through stroking himself. He took a sideways glance to check out the dude's naked body, and his eyes sent a hotwire jolt to his libido when he saw it was that guy down the hall, the gay dude who was always naked and always playing around with his friends in the hall. Chance Something. Shit, what a body that stud had. Tag was immediately swept back up in a delicious fog of boy-fever. He luxuriated in the opportunity to see that cut stud up close like this. He had such gorgeous development everywhere. This guy was way out of the college-stud leagues; he was internet-porn-ready; a total hunk. Big - but not too big - lean upper body, slim sexy waist, incredible abs, powerful lower body. Tag's dick by now was jutting up ramrod straight again as his gaze dwelled lovingly on those amazing abs, so deeply grooved. Fuck, his tongue was dying to trace them all over. And what an ass - solid marble - sitting atop incredibly carved thighs and calves. Fuck, even the dude's long bony feet were sexy. No wonder he's gay - this was a body only another man could give the proper worship to, it would be lost on women.

Tag couldn't help stroking himself as his eyes devoured this totally hot hunk. He tried not to be too obvious. Fuck! Tag's dick started jerking and throbbing as he watched Chance take a big spurt of shave cream and spread it all over his balls and ass-crack. Aw shit, was this ever sexy! He held his big ballsac carefully and brought a razor to them, delicately scraping each one. He's shaving his fucking balls! Probably so another gay guy can have a real treat, tonguing all over that huge, smooth sac. Shit, what a pair of baby-makers he had hanging down there, grade-A extra large eggs. Now he was squatting, flexing those massive thighs and calves, as he reached down and shaved his ass-crack smooth. AW SHIT!! So he's gonna get some dude to tongue his crack! Fuck, wish it was me, Tag thought; would that ever be hot! He felt his balls tighteneing. He had to calm down. He tried turning away, but a second later he was staring again, helpless to do anything but visually adore this total sex-god.

Now Chance was plugging in an electric clipper, and buzzing back and forth over his head. Tag was so into this - it was like watching a male geisha perform his toilet ritual. Chance let the shaver play over and over, getting down almost to the skin. When he was done, he rinsed water on it, toweled it off, then stared and smiled at himself. Tag stared and smiled, too - fuck, he looked even hotter. A totally sexy jock-stud. You just wanted to run your hands and tongue all over that sexy, buzzed head - or feel it tickling your thighs as he sucked off your hot cock. SHIT! Now he was letting the shaver play over his already short pubes, getting them even fainter, sexier, making that long, veiny meat that much more luscious. Tag could just feel his tongue tracing over that light, faint patch, getting an erotic tingle, a prelude to tonguing that massive piece of solid flesh that dangled between his legs.

Now he took the razor and played it over his face. He had had what looked like about five days worth of very sexy stubble on his cheeks, which he proceeded to trim down to the same sexy shadow as was on his head, until he looked hard and steely and macho, like a Marlboro guy or something, some hot rugged cow-hand who'd throw you off your horse and ravage you in some field, leaving you begging for more.

Tag realized he was stroking himself off shamelessly now. He hoped this major hunk couldn't see him, see how fucking turned on he was getting, but he couldn't help it, this guy was just the sexiest stud he'd ever seen. He was like eroticism personified. Fuck, between this dude, the dancers he was gonna see - shit, Tag just wanted to hang around dudes forever now, breathe in the heady atmosphere of powerful, masculine beauty. AW SHIT! The stud winked at him in the mirror and made a little back-and-forth jerking motion with his curled up hand! Tag'd been busted. Damn! He turned away, all nervous and ashamed, as the dude strolled out - not even bothering to wrap his towel around him, just dragging it alongside him like some hot-ass stripper would trail a feather boa. Tag was majorly bummed. Fuck, you idiot, you shoulda said something - like, "Damn straight I'm jackin', bro. Fine-ass stud like you! Get yer ass over here, lemme stroke that sweet jock-cock o' yours!" But he was just too nervous, too flustered. Damn, damn, damn!

Chance smiled to himself as he left the shower room. He'd been aware of that shower-dude's eyes on him the whole time he'd been in front of the sinks. He guessed it must have been quite a show, watching him shave his private parts. Sure seemed to give the dude something to stroke to in the shower, at any rate. Cool. And what a rod! Kinda hard to see through all the soap and steam, but Chance'd got a few glimpses that made that stud's cock seem almost as long as his own. Shame to let a hard-on like that go to waste. Chance'd thought about saying something, asking to join him in there, but the kid looked kinda nervous and embarrassed. Pity. Cause he was really hot: besides that hefty cock, he had a very sleek body; blonde hair; nice full set of red lips; a face that was athletic, masculine, yet delicately beautiful; and twinkling, sort of grey-green eyes. Chance got a sexy vibe off him, despite the boy's nervousness. He must live on this floor, but danged if he'd ever noticed him before.

Back in his dorm room, Chance looked at the clock: another hour and a half before Reed was due. Damn, he smiled, rubbing his horny meat - just enough time to have had a little fun with that cute blonde jock in the shower. Oh well, wasn't meant to be, I guess. So he decided to spend some time figuring out what to wear tonight. He wanted to look as dressed up as he could, so he got out his black Carhartt jeans, which were the nicest-looking pants he owned, and his shiniest black work boots. He had a very tight long-sleeved ribbed black shirt, with a really wide neck that showed off his collar bones well, and that he thought he looked handsome and sorta suave in, so he got that out.

Then he wondered, jock or no jock? He decided on jock, cause Reed loved him in one, and he figured it'd look sexy peaking out from the top of his loose-cut jeans, giving Reed a little glimpse of things to come. He rummaged through his drawer and found a nice one: a thick-waisted Champion that rode his hips and waist beautifully, looked spray-pained on, and had a very thin, very revealing pouch. He pulled it up snug, adjusted his thick cock, and looked in the mirror. Nice, very nice. He circled his cocktip, oh-so-visibly outlined in the thin, tight mesh, then ran his finger up and down the shaft. He could feel the blood start to rush in. Shit, he was horny. He turned left and right, studying the mouth-watering outline his meaty young cock made in mesh, and the way the body-hugging jock set off his abs and quads and ass so well. Yep, Reed should love this, he thought. You look damn tasty there, Taylor.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. He strode over, his thick, semi-hard cock straining the mesh of his jock obscenely - it was nestled plumply in there, big and thick, like a curled-up, sleeping boa constrictor, ready to stretch out and strike at any moment. He grinned broadly when he opened the door to find the blonde-haired shower stud standing there, looking a little nervous, towel wrapped tightly around his slim, muscular hips, allowing the length and girth of his very sizable cock to be easily gauged.

"Hey," said Chance, "how ya doin'? What's up?"

"Oh, hey, hi," the blonde said, voice shaking. "I'm Tag Malone. From down the hall? I noticed you were in the shower earlier - " Tag had to pause. Chance in his jockstrap - which Tag thought was about the sexiest thing a stud could wear - was somehow even sexier than Chance nude. He chest was pounding so hard from lust that he knew if he tried to speak any more he would start stammering.

I'll bet you noticed me earlier, Chance said to himself, licking his chops, cause he knew right where this was gonna go. He saw Tag's eyes burn a hole through the straining pouch of his jock. Hot damn, this was just what he was hoping for - a little appetizer before the main course with Reed. The preliminary bout.

"Oh yeah, sure. Come on in. Chance Taylor," he said, extending his hand. The blonde, who had his towel held tight in one hand and a shampoo bottle in the other, and his eyes rivetted on Chance's incredible cock, nervously fumbled the shampoo bottle to the hand holding the towel, in order to return Chance's handshake, and dropped both the shampoo and the towel, revealing his own beautifully shaped, thick, cut cock, dangling down perfectly from a cute blonde bush. Chance laughed and picked up the shampoo and towel and handed them both back to Tag.

"Your hands must stil be slippery from the shower," Chance said slyly. "I saw you soapin' yerself up pretty good in there."

Tag blushed, pinched the towel tight around his waist again, and said, still overcome with nervous, throat-parching lust, "Is this your shampoo? I think you left it back there in the shower."

Such a clumsy, obvious pass immediately endeared him to Chance. It reminded him of the strip-tease he did for Reed the first time they were alone together, when his libido was guiding his moves. Nervous guys trying to be bold enough to get with a dude for the first time make all sorts of kooky passes, he knew. Chance was gonna help this hot dude along every step of the way.

"Mebbe I did, come on in." He ushered Tag in. "Have a seat. Wanna beer? I was just tryin' to figger out what to wear on my date tonight. My boyfriend's taking me to a dance concert, and I ain't never been, so I just ain't sure what ta wear."

"Dance concert?" said Tag, surprised and excited - figured, though, such a hot stud like this would wanna see the Turner Dance Company. "The Josh Turner Dance Company?"

"Yep, think that's the name I recall. You heard o' them?"

"Yeah!" said Tag, a little of his nervousness falling away, now that they had something to talk about. "In fact, I'm goin' tonight, too. Believe it or not. With my gi - , with a friend."

"Cool! Are they good? By the way," he was padding to his small fridge, body - in that tight jock - mesmerizing Tag as it rippled sensuously, where he pulled 2 bottles out of Grain Belt out, "did you say 'yes' to a beer?" Chance figured a beer would relax the boy's inhibitions, and soon the fun could start. He felt his dick swell and lengthen excitedly in its tight pouch. This kid was sure hot.

"No," Tag said, nervous again because when Chance turned around, he could now trace the awesome length of his dick through the jock's straining material. "I mean yes. I mean I didn't say, but yeah, sure, I'd love one."

Chance threw the beer across the room to his new friend. Surprised, Tag raised both hands to be sure to catch it, dropping the towel and shampoo again, which made Chance crack up.

"Nice catch. Mebbe you better leave the towel off. It's just us dudes here anyway. Here, I'll join ya, if it'll make you less self-conscious," and he pulled off his jock and tossed it on the chair with the rest of the clothes he'd picked out for that evening. The short, sharp, involuntary gasp from Tag as Chance's long, veiny meat was exposed in all its luscious, uncut maginificence was audible. Chance pretended not to hear.

He hopped up on his bed, cock waggling, and stretched out his beautiful girth. He patted the area of the bed next to him. "Take a load off," he said pleasantly.

Tag left the towel on the floor and gingerly walked to the bed. He was in very uncertain waters here. He had been so overwhelmed with Chance's beauty and his own frustrated desire back in the shower, that this stupid attempt to see the hunk again had seemed like a goood idea a couple of minutes ago. Now, though he was still excited to be here, to be able to feast his eyes on the most beautiful male body he'd ever seen, he felt way way over his head. But it was like his dick was doing all the thinking now - it knew what it wanted, needed, and the rest of Tag was along for the very wild ride. He fought for composure as he eased himself down on the bed, a respectable distance from this boy he'd like to lunge at and cover from head to toe with his tongue.

"Now 'Tag,'" Chance said, as the boy settled onto the bed, "what sorta name is that, exactly? Like 'Tag, you're it'? Or short for Name-Tag? Or what?"

Tag laughed, "It's a nickname. My full name's McTaggert McCready Malone. 100% Irish."

"Cool! Great name. A real mouthful." He sized up Tag a little more. A very boyish, fresh-faced kid; his hair was dry now and Chance loved the spiky cut he had; plus, he noticed for the first time the boy had freckles. Those soft red lips were gonna feel so nice on his cock. Damn, was he ever a cutie. He gave a very frank look to the boy's dick, lolling nice and thick along his thigh. "Yep, a real mouthful."

The space between them was getting too charged too fast, making Tag nervous again. He noticed the huge pictures of naked men on the walls, the naked man on the cover of a magazine on the nightstand. He knew he was getting hard and tried to fight it.

"Hey, you asked about the Josh Turner Dance Company," he said, after clearing his throat and taking a deep swig of cold, smooth beer. "They're incredible. I went Friday night to the first program. I think you'll love it. It's an all-male company," he said, trying to sound intriguingly ambiguous as to his sexuality, "and based on the kind of artwork you have on the walls - ," he motioned to what was obviously a poster for a gay porn film and to the framed photo of a gorgeous male nude in bed, "and your reading material - ," and he pointed to the stack of stroke books, "you'll love how beautiful his dancers are. They're some of the most absolutely gorgeous, best-conditioned men I've ever seen. Well," he blushed, "outisde of a guy like you, I mean. Plus, they are so fucking talented. So damn graceful and muscular at the same time."

"Shit," said Chance, idly stroking his dick as he lay there, loving the direction this conversation was going, "I was hoping it'd be something like that."

"Not only that," said Tag, warming to the setting, so jazzed to be with a gay guy, to be able to be frank about their mutual attraction for men, so amped to be surrounded by all the gay accoutrements Chance had in his rooom. He'd even noticed a cock-ring and lube on the nightstand, which struck him as so fucking hot. This was a lifestyle that seemed at once dazzling and desirable to Tag. He took another big swig of beer, and then, shifting on his side, he stretched his own body out, opposite Chance, so his head was at Chance's feet, and his half-hard cock flopped down almost directly across from Chance's. He tried not to be too obvious in staring at Chance idly playing with that mouth-watering cock. He hoped his own sprawling dick would tantalize Chance into stroking it. Fuck, how the hell do you make a very sexual pass at a guy, he wondered.

He continued, "But they always do one dance in the second half - a long one - totally naked. It's so fucking hot, bro."

Fuck he wanted to stroke that huge, tantalizing cock in front of him.

"And it's not like they're wearing much of anything in the other dances. It's a real celebration of the male body. It's sold-out, I hear. We're lucky to have tickets."

He was all flustered. Chance just kept eying him like he was the dessert cart, but didn't make a move, just kept on lightly stroking his own cock, teasing him, it seemed. He couldn't stop his own cock from rising awat from his body in full hard-on mode. He finished his beer in one gulp and motioned to the photo of Reed.

"That's an incredible photo, dude. Really amazing. Hot as hell."

Chance saw Tag was finished with the beer and flipped his nimble body over his new friend to fetch him another, making sure his semi-hard prick did a nice sexy brush over Tag's straining erection. He chuckled to hear the boy's gasp.

"That's a photo of my boyfriend, Reed," he said oon his way to the fridge. "It was taken by a pretty famous photographer we know. Guy named Jesse Stone."

He handed Tag the beer he'd opened, then slowly, sensually crawled over him to get back on his side of the bed, scraping his half-hard thickness across Tag's thigh. By the time he settled himself, he saw Tag trying desperately, futilely, to cover his raging erection with the hand that held the beer. So cute, thought Chance. I'm gonna have to put him out of his misery soon. Damn, Taylor, he laughed - yer gettin' to be such a tease.

"Jesse Stone!" Tag said, breathless with nervous lust "Course, I shoulda known. My girlfr - this girl I know took me to one of his shows over the summer. She even bought me the catalog cause she saw how much I dug it. His photos are so amazing, so beautiful. I've never seen anyone capture the beauty of male musculature so well. So fucking hot yet so incredibly cool and artistic. He's maybe my favorite photgrapher. This is a great photo of his. Classic."

He stared at the photo cause he was afraid to look back at Chance, afraid his lust would make him scream or cry. But he couldn't keep his eyes off him.

"Your boyfriend's beautiful, by the way," he said, looking at Chance's sexy face, those thick lips, the beautifully buzzed head, then - dammit - back down to that cock. He felt his tongue lick his lip and he hated himself for it. He jerked his gaze back to the photo.

He didn't know how to play this scene at all - he didn't want this hot stud to think he was straight, but it was clear he was the clumsiest, most nervous gay guy in the world. As he studied the photo, he thought of seeing that photo show this past summer; it was a kind of landmark in his coming out to himself. He couldn't believe how fucking aroused he'd gotten by these gorgeous photos of nude and nearly-nude men. He kept babbling on and on about it to Cynthia, probably revealing way too much about his deepest desires. She'd bought him the catalog on their way out, as a gift (she was so damn cool like that) cause he was oohing and aahing so much. Man, the times he'd jacked off to Jesse Stone's photos of hot, hunky, big-dicked guys in that book. Shit, he'd spilled so much seed over those pic's, the pages started sticking together.

"Yep," said Chance, coolly, "my boyfriend's absolutely gorgeous. And Jesse's photos are pretty fucking amazing."

"Hey," he added, "you should see some of the pictures he took of me. I think he's gonna use one in his next show. Plus, I'm gonna be one of the guys in his next calendar."

"For real!?" Tag croaked, in nervous, stunned surprise, "you're gonna be one of the calendar men?" He'd seen Stone's calendars for sale at the photo show - he'd leafed through one, enough to get utterly horned up, but quickly stopped cause he thought it'd make him look obviously gay to Cynthia, drooling over beefcake like that. He looked Chance up and down. Yep, this dude was a pin-up boy, no doubt about that.

"Fuck, dude, I'm not surprised." Tag was blushing and hard as hell now. "You've got an awesome body, man. Probably the best I've ever seen."

"Thanks, man," Chance said, in his honey-coated twang. "You got a real fine body yerself, Tag. Listen, you wanna see some of the photos Jesse took o' me?"

He didn't wait for an answer; he bolted from the bed and returned with his laptop. He sat down opposite Tag, and put the computer on the bed where they could both see it.

He clicked open the file with the jpeg's Jesse had sent him.

"HOLY SHIT!" Tag said. "Dude, you are so fucking hot!"

"Thanks, man."

Tag was so immersed in the steamy photos, he didn't notice Chance had swung his legs over his own, and scooted his ass up so their butts and cocks were about an inch away. Chance kept clicking through the photos, watching Tag get harder and harder, loving the sight of that beautifully shaped rod poking about ten inches straight up.

He pressed his ass tight up against Tag's now, and lightly clasped both their long, stiff jock-pricks together. Another boy's hand for the first time on his hard thick meat, the realization, at last, of his strongest desire, sent a jolt through Tag that made his cock jump and twitch.

"Now," Chance said, in his softest, sexiest, purr, "should we get around to doin' what it was you came here to do?"

"Aw fuck, man! Aw fuck!" All the nervousness evaporated from Tag, and he was left with pure, body-rattling lust. The cruising they'd done for the last few minutes was a deliciously excruciating prelude to this glorious consummation. Chance had their two dicks pressed so wonderfully tight together. It was the hottest time he'd ever had with another human in his life. It was even better than he'd dreamed. He would probably shoot in maybe one second, his cock and balls were so electrified.

"It feels so fuckin' good," he panted in sharp, short breath, "your big hand jackin' our cocks together like that! Damn, Chance, I gotta confess - I ain't never been with a dude before. AW SHIT! That feels so fuckin' fine." He just savored every wonderful new sensation; tghey were going off in his body like fireworks now.

Chance contniued to jack both their hard cocks together gently, fingering Tag's cocktip sensuously on the upstroke, caressing his ballsac on the down. His other hand was playing over the boy's cut abs.

"Just lie back and enjoy it, bro. Lemme try'n make yer first time special as hell. Show you why you been achin' for another dude fer so long."

Tag melted into Chance's bed. He had just enough muscle control to place his half-drunk beer bottle on the floor next to him, then he surrendered to his desire. He put his arms down on either side of himself, settling into pure pleasure. His fingers brushed something: it was wet crinkled material. He grabbed it tightly as Chance stroked their hard young pricks together in slow, exquisite torment. Suddenly he figured out what his fingers held - a still-moist jocks. Chance's, most likely. Eagerly, he brought it to his face and breathed deeply. The strong, sharp, tangy scent of jock-musk enveloped his head, adding another wonderful layer of boy-lust to this perfect moment.

"Mmmmm, that's a sweet piece o' meat you got there, Tag. You look so fuckin' sexy lyin' there."

He felt a twinge of sadness as Chance pulled his hand off their cocks, but then gasped as he felt a hot, moist tongue trace his aching, throbbing meat up and down.

"OH SHIT, YES, CHANCE!! Shit, dude. Oh please, lick my cock, bro. Suck it, please. Oh fucking YES!" His voice trailed off to a small, teary whimper.

Chance lavished all his oral skills on the boy's long, stiff prick. It was so beautiful - not enveloped in thick, veiny foreskin like his, but totally smooth and sleek. His mouth felt wonderful gliding up and down it. The pink, pointy head was a joy to tease and tickle with his tongue. Up and down his head bobbed, taking more and more in. He felt Tag's sensuous hands playing over his skin-smooth buzz cut, gently pushing his head down on his sex-starved cock.

"AW FUCK, BRO! You don't know, man. This is like a fuckin' dream! Can't believe this is happenin', man! Aw fuck, your mouth feels un-fucking-believable!"

He put the jock in his mouth, to stop himself from rambling on. The sweaty mesh on his tongue was a contact high. He sucked whatever juice was in their sharply between his teeth.

Chance alternated between sucking and licking, stopping every now and then to jack that sweet smooth thickness and jostle Tag's tight ballsac. He let his finger wander down towards Tag's crack, to see how the boy felt about that.

"AW YEAH, DUDE!" Tag ripped the jockstrap out of his mouth to cry. "Play with my ass all you want! It's so fucking sensitive! So fucking hungry!"

Delighted to hear that, Chance spit a few times on the fingers of both hands, then went back to sucking that hard, smooth treat, while his hands worked Tag's tight, virgin hole.

"OH FUCK! FUCK, you are wonderful, dude! So fucking wonderful. Flip around, bro. Lemme get my first taste of thick, meaty muscle-stud-cock. Your dick looks so fucking awesome, dude. I ain't been able to take my eyes off it!"

Chance first crawled up to kiss Tag. The blonde boy's mouth exploded in desire, mashing his starving maw against Chance's warm, thick inviting lips. His tongue invaded Chance's mouth roughly, licking and lapping in short anxious stabs, wanting every experience of this wonderful new sex all at once. Chance pulled back, kissed the lust-dazed boy gently, then flipped his lean-muscled body over on top of him. He went back to sucking the boy's hard, twitchy prick and working open that tight, hot hole, while Tag's eyes grew wide at his first chance to suck cock. Not just any cock, but pure jock beef. Prime stud cock.

He just stroked it up and down tenderly at first, daring to touch his long-sought object of desire. Chance wasn't cut, like he was, so it wasn't just the feel of a guy's dick for the first time, it was the amazing feel of a dude with a foreskin. He jacked the thick sleeve slowly, experimentally, back and forth, delighted as he watched the head become exposed, then totally covered. Too hot! He kissed the thick fold of flesh as it covered that huge cock-head. Then he traced those thick veins roping across the huge shaft; they seemed to make it even more manly, more mouth-watering. He felt down lower, taking that velvety-smooth, newly-shaved ballsac in his fingers, juggling those huge nuts chock-full of sperm. Then back to that thick, juicy shaft. As he grew intoxicated with the feel of thick, hard, veiny, uncut jock-cock, he kissed it hungrily a few times, then licked it labishly, then pressed it lovingly against his face. He stroked it over and over his face, letting his fingers play in the sexy stubble of Chance's shaved pubes. Aw fuck, did boys ever feel hot as fuck. This was the most erotically scintillating time a guy could ever have in bed, he knew. He was giddy with pleasure. Then he started sucking. First the tip, then more. It filled his mouth with an addictive sensation he'd always suspected he'd get from another boy's hard, juicy cock in his mouth.

"Mmmmmm, so fucking hot!" he mumbled sloppily. His instincts took over. And soon he was bobbing up and down, about halfways down the length Chance's cock. He'd stop his sucking to just slurp his tongue along the length of the shaft, relishing the tasty sensation of rock-hard boy-meat. It started tasting different, tangier, and Tag smiled - precum, mmmmm what a treat! And Chance was leaking an oozy mess. He pulled his mouth off slowly and was totally amped to see a long, clear rope of boy-honey stretch from the tip of Chance's cock to his own lips. How hot was that! He went back to work with renewed gusto. As he gobbled that luscious cock, he thought - I bet a muscle-stud like Chance shoots an awesome load. Thick, white, deliciously creamy. Fuck! He could hardly wait. He wanted Chance to cum and cum and cum, he wanted that thick load to fill his mouth and gurgle down his throat and just flood him. He wanted to swim in a pool of hot luscious jock-cum!

In the back of his mind, he knew Chance was opening his ass so he could fill it with this wonderful pleasure-stick, and he was thrilled at the thought. He could just feel his tight ass riding this long, hard dick. Every fucking dream, every sharp desire, every longed-for fantasy was coming magically true.

Cynthia Evans, senior theatre major, climbed up the steps to the third floor of the athletes' dorm, the floor her boyfriend's room was on. She reached the top and strolled down the hall, smiling to herself as she thought about the sly surprise she was springing on Tag. There'd been such a strange vibe to their relationship for the past month or so, and she wanted an end put to it immediately. She'd had a rotten run of luck with boyfriends the past couple years. Her last two steady guys - both incredibly cute boys in the theatre department - each revealed to her after a few months that they were gay. Once, she could understand. But twice? She needed a gaydar transplant or something. So for a new boyfriend, she sniffed around in any other place but theatre - or dance, thanks to the reminder from one of her girlfriends. At a party during finals week last year, she'd hit it off with this gorgeous stud on the swim team. They'd seemed pretty tight over the summer, but things had gotten weird this fall.

Her fear, which she barely could admit to herself, was that she'd attracted another closet case. He'd been so into good-looking guys lately, it was getting ridiculous. Movies, videos, photo shows, dance concerts, even wrestling matches on TV. But she humored him, on account of she was so into good-looking guys herself. Then, a couple weeks ago, chilling in his dorm while he was showering, she'd got the urge to finger herself as she flipped through that photo-show catalogue she'd bought him over the summer, full of hot naked guys (why the hell did she buy him that, she wondered?), and she almost froze when she realized about two-thirds of the pages were stuck together from dried cum.

OK, so maybe he's bi, she convinced herself. Anyway, tonight was the night. She was going to barge in on him and give him the hottest fucking sex of his life. She was gonna burn that little cutie down. He was gonna be so drained, he'd pant after her from now on with his tongue hanging out of his mouth.

As she stood outside his door, she thought about how hot she looked. She was wearing only a suit jacket on top, nothing under, open just enough so the hard, ripe mounds of her pert young breasts were semi-exposed. She had high heels, fishnets, and the smallest little wrap-around micro-mini she owned. She planned to pull the skirt away almost immediately to reveal a frilly black garter belt and her very sexy-looking shaved pussy. She smiled as she thought about her imminent conquest.

She felt her hair - worn up cause he'd once said he liked it that way - to make sure no loose strands had come down to ruin the image. Then she knocked, moistening her bright red lips.

No answer. She knocked again. That's odd; he'd assured her he had tons of homework to do. Maybe he was at the library.

An incredibly hot muscle-jock strode by, nude, on his way to the shower, and Cynthia, a little breathless and unable to resist staring at his cock, stammered, "Have you seen Tag Malone?"

"Actually," he leered, looking her up and down, "I think I saw him go into Taylor's room about a half-hour ago."

"Which one's that?" Cynthia asked.

"Down the end of the hall, on the other side. 303."

"Hey," he shouted, after she'd turned and started down the hall, "if you can't find your friend, come on in the shower and you can wash my back. My front, too!"

She gave out with a short, sharp "you wish" bark of a laugh and continued to sashay down the hall, swinging her hips to give the muscle-jock something to jack off to in his shower.

As she reached 303, she'd figured Tag was maybe studying with another guy. Or taking a break from all his homework, maybe playing some video games.

She knocked lightly on the door. No answer. And then she began to make out the sounds coming from inside the room. Loud swearing and hollering. Were boys fighting in there? It sounded like a struggle. She knocked again, a little harder. Still no answer. Maybe they were wrestling. She laughed - the things these college jocks find to amuse themselves with.

She decided she'd just open the door quietly, let Tag catch a glimpse of her standing there looking so desirable, and she'd lead him back to his dorm like a puppy-dog for an hour of serious fucking. Plus, it would be neat to tease this Taylor guy, too. She moistened her lips again, checked her hair, made sure her jacket was exposing just the right amount of tit, and opened the door.

It was a strange combination of hatred, self-pity, sadness, frustration, and just plain annoyance that swept immediately over Cynthia when she saw the scene in room 303. There, on the bed, was the most amazingly beautiful hunk she'd ever seen. Absolute heart-stopping muscular perfection. If this guy was a male stripper, he could name his price. It was almost the hottest thing she'd ever seen in her life - to watch him, kneeling on the bed, writhe and ripple in sexual abandon. The only thing that prevented it from being totally arousing was the fact that it was her boyfriend's hot, hungry ass he was plugging.

The hunk had Tag's legs stretched out wide on either side, like a wishbone, and his incredibly powerful hips were thrusting like a pile-driver in and out of Tag's ass. With his legs held stretched like that, the hunk was able to ram his hard cock all the way home. God, would she liked to be fucked like that, she thought - halfway to oblivion by the hottest stud she'd ever seen. His back was to her, so she couldn't see the stud's dick, but judging by how far back he pulled his hips as he long-dicked Tag, he must be incredibly hung. She could hear Tag's squeals of delight, begging to be fucked harder, to have his ass reamed, exulting in the lusciousness of the boy's hard, thick jock-cock. Harder! Harder! he cried, like a sex-starved slut. She watched the stud as he pumped - his ass was so damn perfect, all solid, shapely muscle. Cynthia always refused when a boy asked her to eat out his ass, but now, seeing these ripe, sweat-sheened glutes, she wanted nothing more than to sink her face between those cut-marble mounds and eat and eat and eat.

Tears welled in her eyes, and she was about to turn away, when she stayed for one more look. Tag's cock was hard and long and bouncing against his beautiful six-pack as the gorgeous jock rammed him. She wanted a kind of last look. So that's what it looks like hard, she thought longingly - thick, smooth and straight, about 7 inches in diameter, Cynthia guessed, and easily 10 inches long. A perfectly smooth, sensuous pole, culminating in the cutest pink arrowhead tip. Just the kind that would fill her cunt and let he ride her pussy on it till she was fucked senseless. Oh, Tag! Her faced flushed with embarrassment now, stung by this incredible betrayal, she closed the door quietly.

She walked back to Tag's room, took a pen and piece of paper out of the clutch bag she held, and wrote the following:

"Tag, darling. I'm so so sorry, sweetie. I hate to do this in a note like this, but this thing between us just isn't working. I'm sure it's me, not you. I tried to tell you in person, but you weren't home. I hope we can still be friends, as I think you're one of the sweetest boys I've ever known. Here's the tickets for the show tonight. Please find someone to go with - I know how much you're looking forward to it."

That last line was the toughest of all to write. Damn straight he's looking forward to it. That was the only thing he was looking forward to tonight. Besides that ass-reaming he was getting down the hall. She folded the note around the tickets, wrote "TAG" on the outside, and stuffed it in the crack of his door.

Third time's most definitely not the charm, she thought ruefully, as she hurried down the hall, anxious to get out of the ridiculous costume she was wearing. She paused for a minute, and thought about the leering jock in the shower. Maybe Tag and his boyfriend would come in to shower off all the cum they'd shot all over each other, and he'd see her fucking some hot jock in the shower room. Oh forget it, she thought sourly. I'm off men until further notice.

Back in Chance's room, Tag was savoring the exquisite thrill of Chance's long, hard rod electrifying his ass. By now, Chance, standing on the floor beside the bed, had flipped Tag's legs over his shoulders and was sliding in and out with a smooth, steady rhythm, nudging and tweaking his hips this way and that so both his cock and Tag's ass got maximum pleasure. Tag was grooving his ass down hard on that lead-pipe cock, riding it, making sure it hit his wonderfully aroused love-tunnel in just that right place that made his cock throb and thicken. Chance looked down at that long smooth prick, straining against Tag's abs, seeming to pulsate while he watched it. With every smooth ram into that tight young ass, Tag's hefty jock-cock jiggled so sexily. Chance hocked a gob of spit in his hand and jerked that long, teasing shaft.

"OH YEAH!" Tag panted, from way into the zone, "jack my cock, you big fucking stud. Oh fuck me, Chance! Fuck the shit out of me! You own my ass, dude! Jack my big dick until I cum all over myself! Oh God, I am so fucking hot for you, dude. So fucking hot for boys! You are so fucking beautiful! So fucking hot! Fuck me, man. Oh God, just keep fucking me! Just fuck pure, hot, boy-love into me. Fill me with it, dude!"

Chance smiled to himself. Damn, this kid was intense; he musta had it bad for a while now. He jacked that long sweet cock with a rhythm that matched his own fucking. With Tag's legs balanced on his shoulders, he didn't have to hold the boy's smooth ass, so his own ass could just pump and sway to his tingling cock's delight. Shit, was he hard. He loved the feel of his big silky ball-pouch slapping against this cock-crazed stud's cherry ass. He was way close to cumming, so he started rubbing Tag's nuts sensually while he kept jacking his shaft, trying to get them to cum together. He wanted to pull out and splash a huge load all over that cute, almost androgynous face.

Delirious, Tag thrashed his arms this way and that, savoring each exquisite thrill, when he felt himself rub over Chance's sweaty, discarded jock again. He grabbed it eagerly to his face and sniffed it, breathing in the tangy, heady scent of the muscle-god who was making his ass - his body, his mind, his soul - feel such heights of ecstasy.

"Yeah!" Chance whooped, so turned on by that. "Sniff my sweaty jock, dawg! That's so fuckin' hot! Damn right, the big cock rammin' your sweet ass was sweatin' like crazy in that jock, gettin' it all wet and moist for you. Smell the scent o' the cock you love bangin' that ass o' yours!"

"AW FUCK YESSS!!! I love your fuckin' cock, man! Your Big! Beautiful! Cock! Cock! Cock!" Tag cried, and then erupted in the most amazing mess Chance had ever seen. His cum seemed to shoot out of him, then splurt out of him, then ooze out of him, then gurgle, then erupt again. His abs and chest were coated in what seemed to be a cupful of thick, hot cream. Tag's ass was like a vise-grip on his dick. It was like his ass-cheeks were clawing at his cock, begging it not to leave. He was licking Chance's jockstrap now with a hot, sexy, wanton tongue. Too much, the young stud thought. Just as he felt his balls pull up, he whipped his dick out, pointed it at that sweet face, transmogrified now by lust into the mask of a sex-crazed animal, and shot about six wonderfully satisfying loads.

Tag cried out in sheer pleasure, "FUCK YES! I wanna drown in your cum, dude! Aw, so . . . fuckin . . . hot, man! So . . . fuckin . . . hot!!"

Chance bent down and dug his hand into one of the white mounds on Tag's cream-coated chest, scooped a big glob onto his fingers, and painted the boy's tongue with it. Tag greedily sucked Chance's big bony fingers clean. Then he kissed his first gay lover with all the flooding joy in his heart, all the at-long-last-stoked fire in his groin. His hands rubbed Chance's solid muscles shamelessly, passionately, finally free to act on his head-swimming boy-lust.

"Mmmmmm," he mumbled through hot, gasping kisses. He stroked Chance's long slimy cock, then realizing what was coating it, he bent and licked it clean, greedily, as if he were getting every last piece of meat off a bone.

Finally, he was calm enough to address the smiling Chance with a degree of serenity.

"Oh, dude, you don't know what that meant to me."

"Reckon I do, bro. Doncha think I wasn't in the same boat as you one time? Not too damn long ago, neither," Chance grinned, rubbing his stubbly chin.

"Hey," Tag said, "want a drink, to celebrate?"

"You mean another beer?"

"Nah, I've got like Courvoissier in my room. Come on!"

As they traipsed down the hall, cupping each other's ass, Chance rubbing his long smooth dick in fond affection, Tag thought, I'm one of Chance's dudes now! One of those beautiful naked boys whose sensuous play spills out into the halls, in such hot, sexy abandon. Damn he felt good.

"This is my room," he said when they got there. Then he noticed the note. He read it with a sort of sharp but hollow sadness that didn't linger long. His gayness had arrived, so wonderfully; of course Cynthia had to go. He'd miss her, sure, but like she said, they could still be friends. She must have known. Must have faced facts.

"Everything OK?" Chance asked, seing the odd emotions play across the boy's face.

Tag looked up at his new friend, with an almost excited gleam in his eye. "My girlfriend just dumped me."

"You gotta girlfriend? What're you, bi?"

"Nah, I'm gay. Been pretty sure 'bout that for a while now. But I guess I was trying to deny it or something. So, yeah, I had a girl friend."

He stared at the note, thinking.

"Funny," he said, looking up, "I can't even remember the last time we actually had sex."

Then he looked at Chance with a mixture of lust, friendship, awe, and admiration: "And I sure as hell can't remember ever having sex as good as you and I just had."

"Well," Chance smiled, and took Tag in his strong arms, "welcome to the rest of your life."

They pressed their bodies together, and Tag revelled in the feeling of that long thick cock pressed against his, that strong stubbly jaw nuzzling his. Welcome to the rest of your life.

"Thanks, bro. Let's have that drink!"