DISCLAIMER:
This novella is a work of fiction. Any similarities with real life is of pure coincidence. This story contains homoerotic encounters between college age adults. Acts include masturbation, mutual masturbation and touching of male genitalia.
Copyright 2014 Max Millan
Give Me 30 Minutes by Max Millan
The last cry of the summer was humid and unusually hot. My shirt was in danger of being drench in sweat while standing and waiting to register for my classes. The fall semester was approaching. Like many freshmen who had no access to early enrollment, I was together with the herd lining up like cattle to some old building that was temporary converted for the purpose of processing newly produced college students. College was not in my plan in the grand scheme of things. First, my parents couldn't really afford sending one to college, and second, I was a lousy student. It was a suggestion from my uncle Joshua to give the Navy ROTC program a try. I saw myself eventually joining the service anyways, so I applied into the program and was accepted. This made my parents, specially my dad, very happy. For my mom, it was seeing her son going to college, but for my dad, it was the idea of having an officer in the military for a son.
My day was not exactly going as planned. When I showed up to my dormitory that morning, I was greeted by the student assistant telling me that the section of the dorm where I was supposed to stay was going an unscheduled renovation. I was assured that I would have a new dorm assignment by the end of the day.
It was a chance meeting when Matt, who came from the same town where I grew up and attended the same high school, saw me standing in line. He was a year ahead of me. By the looked of it, he was done registering for his classes.
"Hey Joe," I heard someone calling me from behind.
I was puzzled on who the person calling me. I looked back and saw someone who looked familiar.
"It's me, Matt. Remember me?" Matt said with some enthusiasm. It's not that unusual that you encounter people that you know from high school in a small college close to home, but it was still quite exciting to see familiar faces in a new place.
"Oh yeah. You go to school here. I really thought you might be attending some big shot university," I said a little bit surprised.
"Nah, I decided to be closer, so I can drive home on weekends."
"That's cool. Same here."
Matt joined me in the line.
"No cutting in line," I joked.
"I'm done registering," he replied loudly, so the other students in the line could hear him.
"Don't you have early enrollment anyways?" I was a curious as to why he was registering together with the freshmen and procrastinators.
"I had to change my Wednesday schedule," he said.
"Which dorm are you staying in?" Matt asked.
"Don't know yet. The dorm I was assigned to needed some work. They said I will get a notice for which dorm has available rooms later today."
"Well, my last roommate was a senior. If you want, you can take his place."
I was really nice to meet someone that I was a little familiar in a place full of new faces. It was also a good thing that I would be staying in nicer dormitory than what was normally reserved for freshmen students.
"That's great man!" I responded enthusiastically. I had no aversion about meeting new people but removing the guessing game on how your future roommate was going to be from the equation was a welcome relief.
"Let's go to the housing office after you get signed up for classes," Matt suggested.
It didn't take that long to have my dormitory assignment. When we got into the housing office, the people working there were more than happy to help Matt with his request. Normally, the spot would have been reserved for junior or senior student. Matt played for the varsity football team. He got some few informal perks like this time. After finalizing the room situation, we went and got my my pickup truck from my original dorm.
"The beds can be separated if you want," Matt said.
"Bunk bed is fine with me. Do I get the top?" I said jokingly already knowing what the answer was going to be.
"In your dreams," Matt replied. "I'm older and bigger, so what you're gonna do?" he said with a grin. It's more of a jest than anything else. He said that he had the lower bunk last year and it was time for an upgrade.
"Jerk," I responded in defeat.
"After you unpacked, let's get something to eat. The cafeteria closes at 8."
It didn't take long for me to unpack and made my bed. Not really knowing exactly what I needed to stay in a dorm, I decided to just bring some clothes, few pillows, a comforter and bed sheets. The room was already adequately furnished. There was a mini-fridge, a couch with enough room for two people, and a decently sized TV with a gaming console splayed on the floor. The bunk bed was hugging one side of the wall by the corner of the room. The two-seater leather couch right next to it by the only window covering the airconditioning system., a TV in the other corner of the room away from the door. On one side of the room are two identical dresser/study desk that are built in to the wall. More storage area above the desk running through the length of the ceiling. I got the empty desk by the door while Matt's study area had been conveniently converted to additional storage area. We didn't have cable, so the TV was mostly used for video games and Monday night football.
While in high school, we never really hang out together although we knew each other. We pretty much stuck with our own batch mates. He played football in high school, so his main circle of friends were mostly the jocks. They were quite popular, and they were proud of it too as they strutted along wearing their jock jacket. He was very popular and knew how to use it. One time during lunch break, we were sitting at the same table, and he pointed at one on of the girls.
He whispered with a grin, "I heard you can easily go to third base with that girl Susie. I tried it myself," he said with naughty chuckles.
"Well, I have to investigate," I remembered saying. This turned out to be true. Susie was more than experienced with brief encounters with guys. She was not shy letting her hand do some extra work while making out. She liked hanging around with jocks which made her both popular and loathed by the other kids in school. I wonder who was using who in this case.
We arrived at the cafeteria and there was a long line. Matt walked directly to the cashier and showed his ID, and she let us in.
"One of the benefits of being an athlete," Matt chuckled. "By the way, they won't complain if you ask for extra serving if you are with me. We are allowed for extra serving on first visit. Regular students have to go back for seconds if they want extra."
So I was there standing behind Matt looking at him, wondering how much he physically changed. He just looked taller and much of his body seemed to have grown bigger compared to how I remembered him back in high school. College must had one hell of a training program. He was wearing his old football jersey, a pair of cargo pants and flip-flops. He was about 6' 3" and weighed around 250lbs. He normally wears a 4 o'clock shadow and short ruffled hair that was a little longer on the front that he liked to spike up. Matt was a big guy but not in the buff side. He was what I call more rounded. He had a nicely proportioned set of arms that you expect from a guy with his stature but his thighs were slightly more developed because of his football training as a defensive end.
After fetching our suffer, we scouted the cafeteria for an available table .
"You seem to enjoy showing off that you play for the football team," I joked.
"Hell yeah, it gets you places here," he responded.
"That must be nice," I said.
"Well, I work my ass off. I better get some benefits out of it."
"What about playing for the love of the game?"
"That's what they like to tell you, but it's actually a lot of work for almost nothing. You really have to love the game to put up with it."
"Got that."
Watching Matt almost inhaling his food was a sight to behold I do eat a lot, but he was doing it as if it was like nothing. If he didn't grow old with bad case of concussion related illness or diabetes, I would be surprised I said to myself. The rigor of the football training was the only thing saving him from ballooning to unimaginable size. He somehow was able to keep himself fit despite the calorie requirement that came with the position he played.
"Why not wear some nice shirt and tighter jeans? I would if I were you," I asked.
"It's different from high school," he said. "There is no longer the need to look cool. It's amazing how the switch to thinking that way happened so fast. You only need to look good on special occasion. And besides it feels like people are looking at me when I do that," he continued.
"What's the point of having that body if you are not going to show it?" I chuckled.
"You like showing off?" he asked.
"Not really, but I wouldn't be shy about it."
"I'm just conscious about the bulge showing off too much. And besides, I want extra room," he laughed.
"You're a big guy, but you know that your shoe size doesn't mean shit," I joked.
Matt gave the standard response, the middle finger.
The day went quickly. It seemed to be the case when you need to do a lot of things. After dinner we went back to the dorm and continue putting my stuff away.
"So what are you majoring in?" Matt asked.
"I don't know yet. My parents wants me to get some engineering degree. But you know me, I'm no Einstein. How about you?"
"Economics," he answered.
"Not Physical Therapy or some degree that they invented for jocks like you?" I replied jokingly.
I got a two word respond and the first word rhymed with duck. "I'm no bonehead," he continued.
"I'm just saying. That's what I heard." I said and laughed.
"Well, there is a truth to that. I know at least two of my teammates who can't even spell their own name even if their life depends on it, but they are damn good players. They are taking some Physical Education courses."
"So what is your schedule like?" Matt asked.
"Most of my classes are in the morning."
"Same here. Football practice and workout most afternoons 'til 7 or 9PM."
"On Wednesdays, I go half day for my ROTC and whole day on Saturdays," I continued.
"ROTC?" Matt sounding surprised.
"Yup, they are covering most of my college expenses or else I can't afford college. I might try signing up for the service if this college thing doesn't pan out."
"I know the feeling. Most of the players are renting apartments outside the campus. It's free to stay here, so why not."
"Anything I should know about living in a dorm?" I asked.
"Like what?"
"You know, . . . rules?"
"Alcohol is not allowed in the dorm, so we need to be careful about it," he said. Matt and I were still underage, so it was not a devastating information me, however the idea was too seductive to ignore.
"Where do you put it?" I asked.
"In one of my bags. The dorm hall monitors are not allowed to inspect student's belongings without authorization from the school. They check the fridge or do an unannounced inspection if they suspect that we are consuming alcohol, so I put them in the fridge only when ready to be consumed. "
"Oh, even though they said male should stay only on the male side of the dorm and the same for the ladies and no visitors after 9PM, things happen but you just look the other way around," he said with a grin. "Walls are surprisingly effective at blocking noises," he continued.
"And are you one those that I have look the other way around?" I asked.
Matt sheepishly answered, "yeah, from time to time. I'll give you a heads up. Something like 'give me 30min.'"
"You sure 30 minutes and not 2 minutes?"
"30 minutes is just a courtesy, or else I might have to kick you out for a day," he said laughing. "Football has trained my endurance well," he continues.
"Ha-ha-ha. Well that seems to be a safe code. It will be embarrassing if people accidentally read my phone, saying 'hey bud, I'm about to ball someone stay away for a bit.'"
Matt was a good looking guy, so it was not unusual that he got his fair share. Some of them spilled over me when some drunk girl wondered off the dorm looking for him and I was the one available.
"No over nighter though, sleep time is sleep time unless agreed upon," Matt assured me.
"Where am I supposed to go when you do that?" I asked.
"Well, things normally just works out," he responded with a smile.
Days passed and I finally got the hang of college life. It was quite liberating to live on your own. Well, there was a roommate, but you should know what I was talking about. Time was yours. You could do things at your own pace. Going out any time you like and staying out as long as you like no longer required some planning and asking permission from your folks.
Matt and I became good friends. Most of our early conversations revolved around our high school days. We talked about people that we both knew, and things that we did. He said that many of his jock friends had taken the dislike of me for being aloof. I was not trying to be smug or anything. I was just the kind of person that didn't like the attention from people that I was not acquainted. If I knew the person, I was very much animated around him or her. I guess no one really tried to talk to me because of how I they saw. I was actually easy to talk to, although they were somewhat correct to dislike me. I tried avoiding Matt's high school crowd as much as possible because my friends then were the kind of people that many jocks would have make fun of. However as the days went by, high school became more and more distant to me. It was fun but something in my head just suddenly switched to not care so much about it. There is a saying about childish things had to be thrown away in some part of our lives. It might just be happening faster than I expected.
Matt playing season had started, and he got busy training, playing and sneaking in girls in the dorm. His football uniform seemed to be a girl magnet. When he wore it, girls started lining up. I had come to accept the situation with some level of casualty. Aside from small jokes about it we never really talked about it. It was just a fact of life like eating and evacuating your vowels. The away games gave me brief respite from his frequent "gimme 30" requests. Not to mention that I had enough alone time. One of the few issues of living in the dorm was finding your personal time. I wished I had to talk to Matt about it. A quick rub was not my kind of thing, but there was always the danger of your roommate walking in on you if you take too long. I didn't like being rushed when playing with myself. I like to prolong the sensation as long as I could. I normally get some time on Friday nights when everyone was out partying or when Matt was away for a game. Since I had early formation on Saturday, I did not risk getting drunk and hangovered during formation. The drill sergeant could smell a sleepy cadet from miles away, and he would chew your ass for it. Matt normally came back late or sometimes almost dawn, so I had designated Friday nights as me-time. I could be naked the whole time and be extra verbal while I stroke. I even watched myself on a mirror stroking from time to time. Our study desk had a big mirror behind it. It's something that I also used to spot Matt on the top bunk. I learned that he sometimes took his dick out, and he also had a habit of slipping his hand inside his trouser and cuffed his nuts while we were chatting before bed. I never saw him stroke it though. He just looked at it most of the time while carrying a conversation. I'm quite piqued by the idea that Matt did the same spying on me. I might one night just do a silent stroke for a show. I thought to myself.
One Friday night after eating suffer, the room was all to myself. Matt who normally ate dinner with his teammates during football season went out looking for a party with them. No game was scheduled for Saturday, so they took advantage of it. I was getting ready to start my own fun when I noticed that the room was filled with a very familiar smell. It's not unusual for a college dorm shared by two active young guys to start smelling like sweat, feet and sometimes a hint of liquid body substance later in the week when laundry started filing up. But this time, the smell of seminal release was a little stronger and fresh. I jerked off earlier today but that was in the morning, so it couldn't be from my laundry pile. Intrigued where it was coming from, I started surveying the room. As I look around, I saw a crumpled blue shirt that was hanging from Matt's hamper.
Sneaky Matt, "oh, he uses 'gimme 30' for that purpose too."
"He must have a good stroke of his own before he headed out to look for a party."
I picked up the t-shirt, and immediately got hit by the smell. It's still dumped. "Matt must have shot at least three loads to get this much jizz on his shirt," I thought to myself.
As I was inspecting the Matt's shirt, the thought of Matt stroking was having an effect on my cock as it started to get hard.
Something naughty went into my head. "Hhhmmm, I might add my own load to this t-shirt."
I double checked that the door was locked and immediately got undressed and settled on the couch. My cock was now at full attention, and it wanted attention. I gave my cock a good squeeze several times then slowly started stroking. I reached over to one of Matt's drawer and took out his Vaseline. This was looking like a good night for me. I was getting into a good rhythm and my 7.5 inch cock was really hard that it could poke a hole through my undies if I were wearing one. I have an uncut and straight dick with big pair of hangers. I normally shaved my balls and trimmed my bush. It has a uniform 6 inch girth and my foreskin rolls down the head nicely when it is hard. I stand about 5' 11", so my dick looks bigger. I weighed about 185lbs with a little bit of bulge in the middle that needed some work. Aside from that I did look like your standard issued marine now that I was sporting a closely cropped hair.
I adjusted myself so I can see my full body on the mirror. I smirk formed in face seeing what I was doing. There I was slightly slouched on the couch with legs apart for a good view. As I stroke with my right hand, my left hand was gently tugging my balls. I started moaning and gave out some good grunts. I caught a glimpse of Matt's t-shirt and I decided for some reason to check on how much cum stain was on the shirt. I straightened the shirt to see the marks Matt made on his shirt. As I flatten the shirt, I could tell that he was wearing it when he shot his load, and he was a squirter. I could make out several cum streaks on the shirt and several drops all over the t-shirt. The smear showed that he must had used the same shirt to clean up after. He must just needed a release since I would have expected him to proceed with the laundry after. It was not like we did know that we engaged in self pleasure in several occasions but to leave evidence in the open like that was still unusual.
My strokes were starting to get more frenetic, and I was now fast approaching my climax. I hesitated for a bit because I was hoping for a good long jerk off session. The thought of just having another go at it later was enough to encouragement to let my horniness take over, so I positioned myself to hit my target, Matt's cum stained shirt. Not long after I was cumming. I squeezed the last drop and smeared the some drops the made to my hand then sat back on the couch to catch my breathe. I looked down my cock and it was still hard. Not that I was complaining but it normally goes down to semi hard-on after shooting my load. After about 15minutes or so, I resumed playing with myself and added more cum stain to the shirt. It had been almost 2 hours and my cock was now a little tender, so I decided to call it good for the night. After placing Matt's shirt back into the hamper, I put my clothes on and went to bed satisfied.
The next day I came back from my ROTC training, the room smelled fresher. Matt did some laundry including mine but left my clothes for me to put away. He was playing video game when I walked in.
"How was the training?" Matt asked.
"It was alright," I said.
"What do you do anyways?" he asked.
"Nothing really exciting, mostly marching at the moment then a little bit of lecture after."
"Where at?"
"We are using the parking lot behind the library. It's empty on Saturdays. The building that looked like a double-wide mobile home is the ROTC office."
"Oh, by the way I also did your laundry. The room was stinky," he said pointing at my clothes in my bed.
"I wonder whose stink was it?" I asked jokingly alluding to his blue shirt.
"Your socks," he responded immediately.
"Are you sure?" I replied back with a question.
"You need to air out your boots."
"What are you talking about?"
"Smell like something died in there."
"No, it ain't," I protested.
I sniffed my boots to prove that he was wrong, and the smell was undeniable, but I had the urge to deny it. "It's not that bad," I said.
"Not bad? You should have seen your face when you sniffed it."
"No, it ain't," I was still protesting. "Damn it, I lost this one You're not getting me again next time," I said to myself.