Fraternity Rush Week

FRATERNITY RUSH WEEK, PART 3

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NOTE: This story, involving two college freshmen, is set in 1990, before most people had ever heard of (let alone seen) a cell phone, and the primary underwear options for guys were boxers and briefs. Truly, the Dark Ages.

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I awakened to the unmistakable sounds of a Friday morning drifting up from seven floors below. The beep-beep-beep of the garbage truck gave way to the familiar commotion of trash day as, one by one, the dorm's dumpsters were emptied, and then dropped back onto the concrete with a crash. I squinted at the alarm clock atop the temperamental heating and air conditioning unit, which always kept the room a little too warm or a little too cool. The glowing blue numbers taunted me with 5:27 AM, which meant I could nestle back against Travis' warm, naked form, and try to prolong this -- whatever THIS was -- for another couple of hours.

Travis, however, had other ideas. Trying what was undoubtedly his best not to disturb me, he climbed clumsily over my body, his morning wood grazing my arm. "Fuck, sorry," he whispered as he nearly tumbled onto the floor. I smiled and admired the view, first of his five-and-a-half-inch boner, and then of his firm ass. Finding his footing, he scanned the room for a moment, before settling on my discarded boxers. "I'm borrowing these," he said, not waiting for an answer. "I need to take a serious piss."

I directed him to the closest of the floor's two restrooms, and watched as he pulled on my too-large underwear. Cinching them tight around his waist, he walked out into the hall, a little unsure of his surroundings. It was only then it occurred to me that he might encounter my resident adviser, who woke up early each day to go running, and prided himself in knowing everybody who lived on the floor. I laughed at the idea that he might spot a half-naked Travis stumbling down the hall and immediately deduce he just had his cock sucked and his ass fingered by that quiet guy in Room 720.

Travis returned after a few minutes, still holding tight to the waistband of the borrowed boxers. Locking the door behind him, he staggered to the center of the room. "Fuck," he chuckled, "I think I'm still drunk."

"Better than hung over," I suggested, and he nodded in agreement. Still trying to will the boxers to remain around his waist, he surveyed the small, cinder-block cell, as if seeing it for the first time. "I've never been in a dorm room before," he realized.

"You haven't missed much, I promise," I replied.

"So ...," he began, letting the word hang in the air. My stomach sank. This was it, I realized: Travis was about to concoct an implausible story about blacking out, and then spend the next three years hoping to avoid me on campus. "When's your first class?" I was dumbstruck; in my imagining of this seemingly inevitable conversation, his first question was something like, "Man, what happened last night?"

I managed to relay that I had English Composition at 10. "Cool," he said, "I've got class at 11. We can stay in bed for a few more hours, then?" I made mental note of his phrasing -- "stay in bed" verses simply "sleep" -- but knew I shouldn't overanalyze the word choice of a still-drunken freshman. Travis then glanced down at the baggy boxers that covered his nakedness. "Um, I may have pissed on these a little. Sorry."

"No big deal, I have to wash them anyway," I lied, knowing full well that those boxers would now never see the laundry room again. With that, Travis loosened his grip on the underwear, allowing them to fall to the floor. His piss-proud cock had subsided, but only somewhat. As he climbed over me, back into bed, I tried to steady him, placing one hand on his arm and the other on his muscular ass. I'm not ashamed to admit I copped a feel.

"Hey!" he said, a grin stretching across his face as he flopped down beside me. "Hands off the goods, perv!" We both laughed as he joined me beneath the blanket. It was quiet for a few moments as we lay on our backs, our warm bodies touching in the tiny bed. Travis cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "So ... last night." Surely, he wasn't going to claim beer-induced amnesia as we lay naked next to each other? "That was ... fun."

"Last night?" I teased. "You mean the scavenger hunt, or the darts?"

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Travis' mouth fall open, and then transform into a wide grin. "You dick!" he said, playfully pushing me. "Here I thought you were all quiet and shy. But I guess once you suck a guy's cock, you get all mouthy."

"It's part of the job description," I responded, and we both cracked up, shaking the bed beneath us. We regained our composure, and grew quiet once more. This time it was my turn to disrupt the lull. "So," I began, and then hesitated before charging on. "Are you gay, bi or ... what?"

The question lingered for five or six seconds before Travis finally replied, "What."

"I said --"

"I heard what you said," he cut in. "That's my answer, `what.'" He went quiet again as he gathered his thoughts from an alcohol-fogged brain.

"I've fucked a bunch of girls," he said in a way that didn't sound like bragging, "and I've been blown by a couple of guys -- I mean, other than you ..."

As he trailed off, I couldn't help but wonder about the circumstances of those blowjobs -- drunken fumbling, adolescent curiosity? -- but I didn't dare to ask. Realizing Travis had reached the end of his answer, I tamped down the butterflies in my stomach and, finally, whispered, "I'm gay." It was followed by a nervous laugh that veered dangerously close to tears. "You're the first person I've ever told."

"Aw, man," Travis replied. Beneath the blanket, he gave my bare thigh a reassuring squeeze, and then left his hand there. "I mean, I kind of thought so, but I'm glad you felt comfortable enough to tell me." Another pause. "This is the first time I've slept naked with a guy, and ... had a guy's finger up my butt."

"Those were firsts for me, too," I offered, adding, "I'm a virgin."

"Yeah? You've never done anything with a girl?"

"Not really," I mumbled, suddenly embarrassed, "unless you count kissing my prom date."

"No," Travis snickered, "I don't."

"Asshole," I replied while joining in his laughter. His hand remained on my leg the entire time, causing my five-inch boner to throb and my face to flush.

Once our cackles faded, Travis continued our dorm-room confessional: "You ever wear tighty-whities?"

"Sure," I shrugged, "when I was little."

"You're still little," Travis replied.

"Wait, is that a joke about my DICK?" I fired back, half-kidding.

"What? No!" he responded, a little too loudly. "No! I mean that boxers are for old men, and you're -- we're -- young!" He squeezed my leg again, and continued. "I'd never ... I mean ..."

I was about to let him off the hook when he slid his hand from my thigh to my stiff prick, and gently squeezed. I shuddered in response. "Your dick is fine, man. You should stop worrying about that shit."

He didn't let go of my throbbing cock, and instead said, "I've never touched another guy's dick before, either."

"Really?" I breathed, my voice quivering. "You never jerked off with a friend or anything?"

"Yeah, sure," he said, and squeezed again, as if taking stock of my little spike. "I jerked off with my neighbor a bunch of times, back in junior high, but we never touched each other. We just looked at his brother's crusty porn mags and beat our meat on his bed. Nothing like this. It's really warm ... and hard."

Travis gripped my dick again, and then lightly stroked it, his hand only grazing the hard flesh. I thrust upward, reflexively, eliciting a chuckle. "You like that, K?" he asked, his voice suddenly husky. I could only nod. "Say it." Raising up, he reached over with his other hand and threw back the blanket to reveal both of our naked bodies; he was just as hard as I was. "Tell me how much you fucking love it."

Finding my voice, I declared, "I fucking love it!" Knowing full well that the early risers on the floor would be stirring, I tried not to be loud, but I couldn't help myself. "It feels so fucking good." I bucked my hips for emphasis, pushing my prick into his fist.

"Yeah, that's what I want to hear," Travis breathed as he rubbed his thumb over my knob. "So fucking hot." I wasn't sure whether he was referring to my hard dick (in retrospect, probably not) or my eagerness to do what he said (more likely), but I couldn't have cared less.

Travis released my prick, but I had little time for disappointment to set in, as he quickly straddled my body. With a hand planted on either side of my shoulders, Travis eased himself on top of me, his larger boner pressing against my own. We both groaned at the contact; I thrust upward, creating more friction. The bed rocked and the box springs squeaked as we picked up the pace. Our cocks became slick with precum, but I couldn't say who was the source -- Travis, me or both of us. Not that it mattered, of course.

"That's goddamn hot," Travis panted as he ground his dick into mine. I grabbed his muscular ass, and pulled him even tighter against me. "You like that, K, fucking our cocks together?"

The obvious answer was "Well, duh," but I knew Travis wanted to hear me say it. "Fuck, yes," I replied, and forced three fingers into his damp ass crack. After another couple of thrusts, Travis stopped and rose up, planting his left foot on the floor. "Show me how much you want my cock," he commanded.

I inched down the bed, until my mouth was just beneath his leaking cock. Grabbing his ass, I forced him closer, so the head of his dick crossed my lower lip, leaving a trail of precum. I slurped it greedily, causing Travis to groan and thrust. It wasn't the most comfortable, or the most practical, position, but I would have stood upside down underwater if it meant getting more of that cock. Pressing his hands against the wall above my headboard for leverage, Travis drove his rod in and out of my mouth. It's difficult to say which was louder, our moans and groans or those of the bed.

I'm not sure whether he sensed my discomfort or merely sought to increase his own pleasure, but Travis shifted his body again, so that he could feed me even more of his cock. As he began to thrust downward, his smooth balls smacked my chin. I gripped his ass in an attempt to draw his five and a half inches even deeper into my mouth. "Take ... my ... cock, K," Travis ordered, each word punctuated by the thrust of his hips. He continued his assault for what was probably another minute but felt like ten. "Stop, stop," he finally gasped as he slid his dick out of my mouth. My lips followed, trying to hold on to my leaking prize for just a few seconds longer.

He shifted again, so that he was straddling my face, providing me with a view of the area I knew was referred to as the taint ("Tain't my balls, and tain't my asshole"). I inhaled a heady blend of scents that I could only begin to identify. Travis lowered himself and groaned, "Lick it."

I'd spent enough time in school locker rooms before and after gym class to know the phrase "Sit on my face," usually spoken by horny teen boys as they described what they wanted some cheerleader to do. I, of course, was so preoccupied with sneaking peeks at those boys as they changed into or out of their gym clothes that I never gave any thought to the mechanics of the acts they discussed. What's more, despite all the attention I lavished on my own asshole, I had never considered licking someone else's. It didn't repulse me; it's simply that, in a time before online porn, I never imagined it as something two guys might do.

But there I was, with Travis' balls press against my nose, and his cock hovering above me. I flicked out my tongue, tasting the sweaty nether region of an 18-year-old who hadn't showered in at least a day. I wasn't judging; I enjoyed the taste, and the smell. He groaned and rocked as my tongue bathed his taint. I reached for my throbbing, leaking spike, but was interrupted by Travis. "Uh-uh, not yet."

He moved again, giving my tongue an unobstructed path to his ass. "Eat my butthole, man," he panted. Something that was most likely precum dripped into my hair as I reached up and spread his ass cheeks apart. He pressed down, and my tongue danced across his pucker.

"Motherfucker!" Travis proclaimed. "Finger my hole, K. Stick a fucking finger in there!

Always eager to oblige, I pressed a middle finger against the knot, even as I licked around it as best I could from my current position. It slipped in, drawing a hiss from Travis. Twisting the digit back and forth, I worked it in deeper. Above me Travis rocked and began to stroke his hard cock. After a few moments, he abruptly stopped.

"Wait, wait," he said as he climbed off of me, and the bed, and stood on the floor. "My fucking leg was starting to cramp," he chuckled, massaging his right calf. "Get on the floor."

I slid onto the floor, and then turned to find myself presented with Travis' sculpted ass. He was bent over the bed, his upper body lying on the mattress. His head turned, he looked back at me. "What are you waiting for? Start eating, fucker."

I quickly got onto my knees, pulled his cheeks apart and ran my tongue up the length of his furry, damp crack. I heard a muffled groan as I went to work, licking and slurping every inch of exposed real estate. It was sweaty and slightly musky; the combined scent and taste traveled from my tongue to my brain before racing down to my dick. I forced the tip of a finger back into the hole, an intrusion greeted by an appreciative "Oh, fuck, yeah" from Travis. He pushed back, inviting deeper exploration. As the digit twisted and turned, my tongue continued its own journey up and down the crevice. Travis began to jerk his cock as he rocked back into me, his steady stream of moans interrupted only by the occasional "Fuck!" and the whines of the bed.

"Eat that hole, K," Travis groaned, thrusting his ass backward for emphasis, as if I might not know what he meant. "Stick your fucking tongue in there."

I hesitated for no more of a second before withdrawing my finger to replace it with my tongue. While I'd never actually eaten ass, I was familiar with the flavor of my own; everything from my fingers to carrots had been jammed into my hole, and then placed in my mouth to add saliva as necessary. But the first real taste of Travis' was, well, intoxicating: bitter, sweet and a little sour at the same time, with more than a hint of copper. Immediately hooked, I pulled Travis' cheeks as far apart as I could, and pressed my face against his ass, driving my tongue in as far as his hole would permit. "Aw, goddamn," he groaned, grinding against my face, "deeper!"

His tight hole loosened slightly, permitting my tongue in just a little farther. I drove it in and out, adding the occasional lick or slurp for variety, to the chorus of moans and curses, which barely masked the sound of Travis jerking his cock.

Desperate to give my aching tongue and jaws a break, I reinserted a finger. Finding little resistance, I worked in another, triggering a loud but seemingly approving "Fuck!" from Travis. Every thrust or twist of my fingers was met with an appreciative groan until finally Travis panted, "Stop! Stop ... shit." Extricating his ass from my probing digits, he rolled over onto his back and continued pounding his rock-hard cock. I leaned in and began to lick his balls. He slowly, shakily stood, but never stopped stroking. "Lay down on the bed -- hurry."

I crawled onto the bed, my five-inch cock sticking straight up, begging for relief. Standing over my trembling body, Travis quickened his pace. "Fuck fuck fuck fuck," he chanted. "Gonna cum! Fuck!"

With that, Travis shot jets of cum over my naked form, the first volley landing across my lips, the second on my chest and stomach, and the third, fourth and fifth covering my pubes and aching cock. He then fell on top of me, trapping his goo, and our cocks, between us. He slowly humped his soften dick against my stiff little nail, his jizz supplying the perfect lubricant.

"Hold on, hold on," he panted, rolling off of me. I groaned, this time in disappointment. Travis lay on his back beside me, his legs dangling off the edge of the bed. "My dick's getting too sensitive, sorry."

I gripped my own dick, but Travis immediately pushed it away. "No, don't," he croaked, exhibiting what I briefly perceived as a streak of cruelty. But then he rolled onto his side and took my dick into his hand. Lying his head against mine, he began to squeeze and stroke the cum-covered cock. "You're a fucking mess," he chuckled. He was right, but I didn't give a damn. "You gonna shoot your load for me, K?"

"Fuck, yeah," I replied, thrusting upward to meet his strokes. "Gonna blow my load for you!"

"Give it to me, fucker," he ordered, jerking me faster. "Shoot it now!"

And I did. With no warning beyond an "Oh," my hips bucked and my cock erupted, arcing cum over my chest and stomach, and then oozed over Travis' fist.

"Holy shit," he laughed. "You shot cum on my face." I looked at him, and indeed there was a streak across his cheek. "You better clean it up."

I leaned over and ran my tongue across Travis' face, removing the mess I -- we -- had made. He raised a cum-covered hand to my mouth, and I cleaned that up, too. He then collapsed onto his back again. "Jesus, man," he sighed. "That was fucking awesome."

"Yeah," I breathed, "and messy."

We lay there, silent, listening to the sounds of the dorm coming to life. "Wake and bake?" Travis asked. He found his pants, and fished his weed and pipe out of one of the pockets. Smiling, he presented them as if he'd uncovered buried treasure. "Can we?"

I'd never smoked in the room, and had to consider what preparations needed to be made. I figured opening a window and placing a towel along the bottom of the door would be a good start. When I'd finished, I turned to see Travis sitting Indian-style on my bed. He patted the space next to him, and then packed some weed in the bowl. I climbed onto the bed, and sat facing him, our crossed legs touching. Our sticky cocks had wilted; cum spotted our bodies like spackle.

Travis inhaled deeply, coughed and then pressed the pipe to my lips. I took a hit and exhaled. Smoke drifted toward the open window, the smell of pot mixing with that of sex. We traded the pipe back and forth for a few minutes, until we were interrupted by a knock at the door.

I froze, and pressed a finger to my lips as Travis tried to fan away the lingering smoke. I thought if we were quiet, the would-be intruder might wander away. He didn't.

"Keith?" came the muffled voice. "It's Ryan ... from next door."

I jumped up off the bed and pivoted one way, and then the other, unsure of what to do.

"Man, I know you're in there."

I looked at Travis, who could only offer an exaggerated shrug. Naked and sticky with cum, I crept to the door. "Yeah?" I croaked.

"Can you open up?"

I kicked the towel out of the way, and opened the door just a crack, hoping to hide both my nakedness and a nude Travis, sitting only a few feet away on my bed. "Oh, hey, Ryan," I said as casually as possible. "What's up?"

Although I didn't know Ryan very well, he was always friendly. A member of the golf team, he frequently practiced his putting in the hallway late at night, wearing only his boxers. He was easy on the eyes, so I didn't mind the sound of balls -- golf balls, that is -- hitting the door. Ryan was dressed in his usual uniform of a sweatshirt and khaki shorts, with a backpack slung over his shoulder, suggesting he was heading to breakfast and then to the library or class.

He leaned in and whispered, "I can smell the weed out here. You better spray air freshener or something before the R.A. sniffs it out."

"Oh! Sorry, yeah," I replied, relieved. "Thanks for that, Ryan."

"No problem," he said, suddenly unable to meet my eyes. "Um, also ..."

"Yeah?"

"You and your ... friend ... are kind of loud."

To be continued ...