Fraternity Rush Week

FRATERNITY RUSH WEEK, PART 4

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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.

Thanks everyone who offered feedback on the previous three chapters! Please send any comments to writerstuff@yahoo.com.

PREVIOUSLY ...

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."

My face flushed, my mouth went dry, and I lost all ability to speak, which is probably just as well, considering I had no idea how to respond. In our drunken horniness, we'd gotten careless -- not to mention loud, very loud -- and now I would have to pay for that, with sniggers in the restroom and hallway, and "FAG" scrawled in shaving cream on my door. I had loved every second of sucking Travis' cock and eating his ass, but by the end of the semester I would no doubt be left wondering whether that was worth my status as the pariah of the seventh floor. However, my panicked glimpse into a tortured future was interrupted by Ryan.

"Hey, man," he said, looking me in the eye again. "Don't worry, I'm not going to say anything, about the weed or ... the other thing."

Ryan offered a faint, comforting smile, and then turned away. "Talk to you later, Keith," he said, adjusting the backpack on his shoulder as he walked down the hall.

I closed the door, and leaned back against it, the energy draining from my body. Never exactly an impressive sight to begin with, my dick had all but retreated from view during my exchange with Ryan; torn between fight or flight, my wiener chose the latter.

"Must be fucking cold in the hall," Travis chucked from across the dorm room, noticing my shrunken state. I reflexively covered my package and glared back at him, triggering an immediate change in his tone.

"K? What happened?" he said, leaving my bed to join me at the door. "Stop that," he said, moving my hand away from shriveled dick and balls. "Who was that?"

"Ryan, one of the guys next door," I replied. "He smelled the weed and heard ... what we were doing."

"Oh, shit!" Travis exclaimed, wide-eyed. "Do you think he'll rat you out?"

I was quiet for a moment, and then realized I'd been holding my breath. "No, I don't think so. I mean, he said he wouldn't." I realized then that if Ryan had wanted to make trouble, he would've tracked down our resident adviser, or gathered a crowd to let them know what he'd heard, presumably last night AND this morning. "No," I concluded, suddenly more confident, "he won't."

"Cool," Travis said with a smile, as he reached down to jiggle my withered balls. "We'll have to be quieter." I couldn't help but laugh at the implication we would be doing this again, hopefully sooner rather than later.

"Now shove the towel back under the door," he continued, providing me with an excellent view of his ass as he strolled back across the room, "and we'll blow the smoke out the window."

Travis sat perched on the edge of the metal heating and air-conditioning unit that stretched along the wall between the two beds. One leg was tucked beneath him, and the other dangled over the edge. His soft cock rested against his inner thigh, drawing my attention from the pipe he held to his mouth. I stood naked in front of the window, enjoying the cold air from outside, and the smell of the smoke as it snaked its way out of the room.

"You OK now, man?" Travis asked as he pressed the pipe to my lips and lit it. I inhaled deeply and nodded. "Good, good." He rubbed up and down the length of my right arm, a move undoubtedly intended to be comforting. My dick interpreted it differently, however, and began to thicken.

"Well, someone's waking up," he observed with a grin before surprising me by rubbing his thumb over my knob. I shuddered, and then realized that anyone looking out the windows in the building opposite -- a girls' dorm -- might get an early-morning peep show. I decided to instead sit on my bed, where I fondled my little dick as I watched Travis intently. He was so sure of himself, and seemingly possessed no modesty. I wondered if I could ever be so casual about nudity.

"You gonna jerk off again, horn-dog?" he asked, looking down at me as smoke rolled out his mouth. Out of habit, I moved my hands over my hardening dick, earning a disapproving expression from Travis. "Don't ever cover your cock, K," he said. "You have nothing to be embarrassed about. Show me your boner."

I blushed and moved my hands, exposing my five-inch spike to Travis. "That's better," he said, smiling. "You gonna bust a nut for me before we get cleaned up for class?" He turned so he was facing toward me; his own cock began to spring to life. "Do it, man. Jack that fucker for me."

Without removing my eyes from Travis, I started stroke my stiff prick. He smiled approvingly as he took another drag off the pipe. My other hand found its way to my balls, where it began to gently pull and twist. "That's it," he whispered, "get into it."

As I did, Travis gripped his own cock, matching me stroke for stroke. He raised his foot and gently stroked my nut sack with it, sending a shiver through my body. The big toe then worked its way beneath my balls, nudging and probing. I leaned back, spread my legs and felt the digit pressing at my asshole. There was no way it was going to slip in, but I enjoyed the sensation nonetheless. I'd never given any consideration to feet, beyond their practical purposes and their occasional odor, but at this moment, Travis' were the most erotic things I'd ever encountered, besides his cock. Oh, and his ass.

"You dirty fucker," Travis smiled, working a bead of precum out of his dick. "You want to fuck my foot?" I smiled back and thrust my ass against his probing toe. He was clearly enjoying this as much as I was.

"Hey, you're the one who started it," I replied, and gyrated my ass. He removed his foot and stood, his hard cock bobbing in the air. Lifting one of my legs, he pushed me back on the bed, exposing my asshole. I momentarily thought Travis was going to fuck me, but instead he coated his index finger with his own precum, and slid the digit against my butthole. After a couple of pokes, it slipped in, drawing moans from both of us.

Travis took to his new role as anal explorer, twisting his finger first one way and then the other, working it in deeper. I stroked my cock faster as I moved my ass to meet his hand. "Wish this was my cock in there, K?" Travis panted. "You want my hard dick up your ass?"

I could only nod and groan. He continued his assault on my hole with one hand while frantically jacking his dick with the other. After fingering me for a couple of minutes, Travis withdrew his digit, and inched his body closer, his hard cock pointing the way. My voice trembling with a mixture of anxiety and excitement, I asked, "Are you going to fuck me?"

Travis exhaled and rubbed the wet head of his dick down my taint and crack, triggering a collective groan. "No," he finally breathed, "not yet." Pressing his cock against my asshole, he continued to stroke in earnest. "But I'm gonna cum all over your pussy."

True to his word, Travis soon let out a gasp, followed by, "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" I felt spurt after spurt hit my ass as he continued to stroke. When he'd wrung the last drops from his cock, he scooped up the jism, and worked it into my hole with two fingers.

I writhed on the bed as I pounded my five-inch spike, rising off the bed to meet his probing fingers. "Oh! Oh, shit," I moaned as the first rope of goo shot from my dick, splattering across my stomach. The second and third merely oozed over my fast-moving fist. Travis continued to slowly finger-fuck me as we recovered from our second orgasms of the morning.

"Wait," I panted, trying to catch my breath, "did you just say my `pussy'?'

"No!" Travis replied defensively, and then blushed. "Um ... maybe? I guess. Was that too weird?" He avoided my gaze as he gingerly withdrew his fingers from my ass and retrieved my boxers to use for cleanup.

"No," I said, wishing he'd reinsert his fingers, "not too weird -- I mean, as long as you know I'm NOT a girl."

He snorted and wiped off his shrinking cock with my underwear. "Duh," he said mockingly, "I jacked you off and just finger-fucked you. I'm pretty sure I know you're a guy, dipshit." He chuckled and threw the sticky boxers at my face. I left them there and took in his scent as I joined in the laughter. "Now stop being a perv and clean up. You're a fucking mess."

I wiped the cum off my stomach and dick, and managed as best as I could with my ass, knowing Travis' jizz had already leaked onto my bedsheet. I had plenty of time to decide whether to do laundry on Sunday or sleep in his crustiness for a couple of days. I was perfectly willing to live in that murky area between unacceptably gross and acceptably perverted for a while.

Travis returned to his perch on the heating unit, and took another hit off the pipe. "Want a toke?" he asked as he exhaled a plume of smoke.

I glanced at the digital clock and shook my head. "We should probably think about getting ready for class," I sighed. "If I smoke any more, I'll be so high I won't make it out of here."

"Yeah," Travis said as he retrieved his pants and returned the pipe, weed and lighter to a pocket. "You have an extra towel, and maybe a shirt? I can go commando in these pants, but I should at least change shirts."

I rifled through my dresser for a clean towel, and a T-shirt that wouldn't be too big on him. It hadn't occurred to me that Travis might want to shower -- although, like me, he definitely should, as we were both coated in dry cum and wreaked of sweat, pot, beer and sex. I experienced a flash of panic as I wondered what everyone would think when we strolled into the showers together, but I figured Travis wasn't the first friend to crash in the dorms. The smell, and sight, of crusty jizz might be a little more difficult to explain away, however.

I momentarily toyed with putting on clean boxers and draping the towel around my neck in hopes of hiding any dried cum on my torso. But as soon as Travis wrapped his towel around his waist, I gave up my plan and instead mimicked him. Grabbing soap and shampoo, I summoned my courage and led the way down the hall to the combination showers/restroom.

As usual for that time of day, it was a beehive of activity, with five guys in various stages of undress -- in towels, in underwear or, in one case, completely naked -- standing at the row of sinks, shaving, brushing their teeth or primping in the enormous mirror. On one side of the central area was a pair of urinals and two toilets, and on the other, four shower stalls. I tried not to make eye contact with anyone, and instead guided Travis toward the showers. Although the first two were occupied, the last two -- my preferred ones -- were empty.

I slipped into the one on the end, hung my towel on a hook just outside, and breathed a sigh of relief that I'd seemingly escaped anyone's notice. I heard Travis turn on the water in the next stall, and followed suit. Enjoying the spray of the hot water, I was immediately reminded I somehow hadn't pissed after a night of drinking, and a morning of sex. With a grunt and a groan, I let loose with a strong stream of pee.

"Ahem," I heard, snapping me out of my trance. My eyes shot open, and I saw the grinning face of Travis peering through the gap of the shower curtain. Reflexively, my hands shot down to cover my dick, even as the flow of piss continued. His grin faded as he raised an eyebrow disapprovingly, an expression I already knew well. I immediately removed my hands from my crotch; the pee sputtered to a dribble.

Travis' smile returned. "I just wanted to borrow your soap," he said, extending a hand. I obliged, and he disappeared, leaving me alone to wash with shampoo. I paid extra attention to my pubes, dick and ass, but did my best not to start something I wouldn't be able to finish, if you catch my drift. Rinsing off my head and body, I turned off the water, and reached outside the shower for my towel, only to find it gone. Thinking it had merely fallen to the floor, I peered through the curtain to see a grinning Travis standing outside the shower with one towel around his neck and the other in his hand.

"Looking for this?" he asked with a smirk. "Come and get it."

I nervously glanced over Travis' shoulder, to where young men streamed in and out of the tiled room, performing their morning rituals. One guy, whom I recognized as a football player, stepped into the shower two stalls over. I'd tried my damnedest during the past semester and a half NOT to reveal my nakedness to the other residents of the floor, and now Travis was determined to make me do what I dreaded most. He, of course, had no such hang-ups, and stood with his ass and dick on display.

"Well, if you don't want it," he teased, and acted as if he were about to turn and walk away. I was pretty sure he was bluffing, but I was afraid to call him on it.

"No, wait," I said, feeling myself blush as I stepped out of the shower. Although it felt as if dozens of eyes were trained on me, I knew -- well, hoped -- that wasn't actually the case.

Travis turned and smiled again, this time approvingly. "Good boy," he mouthed, and handed me the towel. I quickly dried my hair and then turned my attention to my dripping body, intending to use the fabric to cover my crotch as I patted myself down. Travis leaned casually against the wall, absentmindedly scratching his balls. "You ready?"

I nodded, and started to wrap the towel around my waist. "Nuh-uh," he whispered, tugging at the towel draped around his neck. "Like this."

Mortified, I said "No!" in a stage whisper. "Yes!" Travis responded, adding a wink. He turned and then glanced back at me over his shoulder. "Come on, man ..."

My face burned and butterflies took flight in my stomach, but I relented, as I knew I always would when it came to Travis. I placed the damp towel around my neck and followed as he slowly strutted past the row of showers and into the central area. A couple of guys nodded as they passed; I couldn't help but feel as if I was on exhibit. Were they scrutinizing my soft two and a half inches, which threatened to betray me and shrink even smaller? Almost unconsciously, I gave my soft dick a tug, as guys so often do, in hopes of cajoling it to a more formidable state.

Although I'd hoped Travis would pause at the door to wrap himself in the towel, he didn't break stride. I silently prayed the hallway would be empty, providing incontrovertible evidence of a higher power, but I found myself forsaken. Residents walked in both directions, some clad in underwear or a towel, on their way to the showers, and others fully clothed, headed downstairs to breakfast or off to classes. Torn between sprinting to my room or falling behind Travis in hopes he would provide some degree of cover, I chose the latter. That was apparently his signal to slow his pace as he luxuriated in our exposure. Travis was clearly some sort of exhibitionist, and he was determined to force me to become one as well.

Giving thanks that at least the cleaning ladies hadn't begun their morning rounds, I tried to avoid eye contact with passersby, until I saw a familiar and friendly face approach: Gus, a tall, blond business major who frequently chatted with me in the lounge or in the laundry room. He was nice, and extremely good-looking, but this definitely wasn't the way I'd hoped to encounter him. Unfortunately, our paths met just before I reached the door to my room,

"Hey, Keith," he smiled, casting his eyes down my naked body. "Good look, man. Lose a bet?"

"Something like that," I mumbled, my cheeks flushing crimson. Gus laughed and strolled on. I glanced over my shoulder to see him stealing a glimpse of my backside. Unexpectedly my dick began to thicken.

I turned back to find Trevor leaning against the wall outside my room, as casually as if he were fully dressed. However, I couldn't help but notice he wasn't completely flaccid, either; his normally three-inch soft dick was somewhere closer to four, and slowly rising. "I think your friend liked what he saw," he whispered, playfully poking me in the ribs.

I pushed open the door and trudged into my room, with Travis falling in behind. "That was humiliating, asshole," I hissed. "Everyone one got a good look at my dick."

Travis grasped my shoulders and steered me against wall just inside my door, my facing resting against the cool cinder block. He leaned in, pressing his bare chest and stomach against my back.

"Number one, you enjoyed it -- or at least THIS did," he whispered into my ear as he reached around to grasp my stiffening cock. "Number two, `everyone' didn't; most of them didn't notice. And number three, who gives a shit if they did? You need to get over your hang-ups, K."

Travis was hard, too; he nestled his cock vertically between my ass cheeks. "There's nothing wrong with your body, and you have nothing to be ashamed about," he added, squeezing my cock for emphasis. "If a bunch of dudes want to gawk at your dick, let `em. If they don't like what they see, who gives a shit?"

He moved his mouth from my ear down my neck, licking, kissing and nibbling as he went. I moaned, and my body quivered. "But I like gawking at your dick," he rasped, thrusting his own cock against me.

Travis then abruptly pulled away, and lightly smacked my ass. "Right now, though," he continued, "we better get dressed, or else we're going to end up making another fucking mess."

To be continued ...