This story is a translation of the Russian original, with names and vernacular made to sound as American as possible for ease of reading by an internatonal English-speaking audience. However, keep in mind that it's set in Russia, and make allowances accordingly. The Russian original was first published as a series of journal entries on a Russian gay meeting site qguys.ru. Please also note that English is not my native or even first foreign langauge.
P.S. Just to dispel any confusion that may have crept in, this story is pure fiction, even if parts of it may be based on actual events. Which parts - that's for me to know, and for some you to find out, eventually :-)
THE DORM ROOM PART IV
December Jolts
"Two programming language papers due, one information science paper, and three on algorithm theory: I was nearing the end of my rapidly fraying rope! And it's December 1st tomorrow already," such were my defeatist thoughts as I sat one fine Saturday evening red- and bleary-eyed staring blankly into the computer screen, with only a couple of thick syllabi, textbooks, a plate with sandwiches – or, rather, crumbs from sandwiches - and the 5th cup of strong coffee in as many hours, to keep me company.
"Enough is enough," I finally decided. "All that caffeine is making me jittery. There are some lucky bastards out there who can drink 10 cups of the stuff straight to cram in a crunch and get away with it, but I'm not one of them, damn it. After all, I tasted my fist cup of coffee only here at the U. But I quickly got on with the program; all those all-nighters I've had to pull made sure of that. It seems all I do is cram to the point of exhaustion for endless papers and exams, even with all the help the guys are always willing to throw my way. Maybe I should get going while the going is good and try to transfer to another school while I'm still a freshman? But if I leave and can't get transferred somewhere else, I'll get drafted, and dodging it is the eternal preoccupation of all the 18-19 year olds, or rather, the males. Do I or do I not like my major, I guess that's the question. I spend at least 8 hours a day in the labs and lecture halls, then toil away on the computer till 3-4 in the morning, especially before quiz hell weeks, midterms and the rapidly approaching finals, sometimes staying up through the night. So I'm definitely beginning to flag. Food for thought, right there. But... when lines of code you are writing start coalescing into a nice piece of software that works like a whistle, you feel like you're on cloud nine. Blah-blah-blah... creating something out of nothing... blah-blah-blah... Okay, what've I just been thinking about? Did I just draw a blank? No way, that's it, tomorrow is Sunday, I need a break in the worst way, so no cracking the books tomorrow, no siree, I'm going out and having a blast. Who with, though? The boys are gone home for the weekend, Art is nowhere to be seen, Dennis is busy at work. And it's too late to try to piggyback on somebody else's plans for tomorrow. I guess I can call Valerie – Val; haven't seen her since Thursday, been missing her."
The computer turned off and the torture implements – i.e. books and class notes – shoved in the drawer, I headed the hell out from the room.
"Still, November hasn't really been all bad: I've gotten back on track with my grades, begun taking better care of my body – gym on Tuesdays and Saturdays and swimming on Thursdays – with early results in the form a four-pack for now, already in evidence. I've also finally done the deed and kissed my virginity goodbye! Make no mistake, it was awesome, but I guess all the while I was focusing not so much on the incredible sensations flooding through my body, but on the fear of getting caught in the act, it's being the dorm and all. Val seems to like it fine, though, so we've been doing it regularly either in my room or hers. Sure, it would be sweet if we could get hooked up for a nice quiet place where we could have some much needed privacy to enjoy the romance, but that's just wishful thinking in a dorm."
Reminiscing rather fondly now on how we'd almost been caught red-handed – as it were – by Val's roommate the other day – "Although, come to think of it, she may have caught a glimpse of me trying to hurriedly shove the freshly used rubber under the bed," I chuckled, "If she did, then Val sure has one super tactful rommie," – I headed to the kitchen in search of something to munch on. To my whoops of near-ecstasy I saw that Dennis had made pilau – Middle-Eastern-style risotto – for dinner. One of his relatives was a chef, and that's how Dennis came to learn to cook finger-lickingly good pilau. He must have been waiting for me to have dinner together as the food stood untouched. "I should go get him. He has work early tomorrow, so it's early taps for him tonight."
Dennis wasn't in his room. I turned around, stepped to the bathroom door and knocked. No reply came from within. "Where is he?" I was at a loss what to think and pushed the door, which gave in, as it wasn't locked.
"Dennis, you there..."
Dennis was there. He'd just stepped out from the shower and was still undressed, as in nude, as in without-a-stitch-on-naked! It was the first time I'd ever seen him naked, since it wasn't his habit to flaunt his body by parading around uncovered. Dennis was standing with his back turned to me, toweling his hair off. Water droplets were cascading down the ridges and valleys of his broad powerful back to the narrow waist, pooling in the dimples over the coin-bouncingly firm buttocks.
He turned around to face the door when he'd heard its creaking. Oh! My! God! Full frontal, the view was even more ogle-worthy! The same damn water droplets were rivuleting down the gym-honed pecs, circling around the beautifully erect nipples, down the wonderfully chiseled abs to the beautiful muscular thighs, and if course, the endowment. "Jey-sus, can a dick really be this huge? And he's completely soft. Is he bigger than Paul? No contest there. Am I jealous? Nah, not really, just stunned the hell out! Why am I even frigging thinking who's bigger at all?! I have to let Dennis know I'm here, explain that the door wasn't locked, that I didn't mean it. Why is he so close to me, crowding me out?" were my fever-pith thoughts.
"Dennis, I'm really sorry, man. I know I needed to..." and Dennis was already almost flush against me showing no sign of stopping there, making me inch back to the already closed door, "...wait for permission to enter. I di-didn't mean to barge in. Sor-r-ry."
My retreat was stopped by the door handle – the traitor – pushing into the small of my back. Dennis was just an inch away from me, looking down at me in a weird way. "Like a wolf, the big bad wolf, looking at a baby deer! He smells so amazingly fresh. Just like the day we met for the first time, in the same bathroom," I thought, not daring to look at anything but my feet.
"Dennis, please don't..."
I could finish the sentence I'd started since Dennis closed the remaining inch between us, and gently touched – caressed! - my chin with his left forefinger, causing my whole body to tremble. Then he – very carefully – grabbed my chin with his fingertips and pushed my face up. The look in his eyes! And immediately it all flooded back to me, all the feelings from that fateful first bathroom encounter, compelling me to surrender to him, give myself to him, every ounce of my being – a strange undecipherable imperative. His calm eyes that had already decided everything for you projecting utter confidence that everything would be as they wanted and commanded.
Dennis took a couple of seconds to look at and study me. My heart was beating deafeningly a mile a minute so the neighbors must have heard it all the way up and down the hall! Suddenly, he covered my lips with his in a tickle of a gentle kiss, and immediately my legs turned to jelly. Dennis, feeling this, snaked his right arm around my back and hugged me tight. I was rushing in pulsating waves on the heat of his body, and his clean smell quelled my already feeble attempts to say something to him to get him to stop.
Dennis tore his lips from mine for a fraction of an inch, exhaling at me, burning my sensitized lips and skin with his hot breath, then locking his lips back on mine, this time at full force. His tongue penetrated my mouth, caressing my tongue and doing wonderful tricks such that I'd never even imagined existed! A slightly above whisper moan escaped from me when his burning hot hand crawled under my T-shirt and felt up my tummy. "God, what's happening?! No, no, this isn't right! No-o!" I panicked.
"No, Dennis, stop, please!" I gingerly put up my hands against his chest to push him away, even though if Dennis had wanted to, he would have broken through my little-more-than-token resistance easily.
Not grasping what'd just happened and what I was doing, and shot out from the bathroom, grabbed haphazardly my boots and coat and fish-tailed it out the door.
That night I spent at Valerie's, trying to make head or tail of what the hell had been done to me, focusing on this to the exclusion of everything else. Val, to her credit, did try to get me to calm down and talk to her, but quickly gave up her futile struggle and just made me my favorite lemon tea. Which, surprise surprise, didn't really do the trick either. I finally came down from my agitation only when the dawn was gearing to break and fell into restive sleep sometime after 7 AM...alone on the couch.