Chapter Thirteen
I was dreaming I was on a scorching beach lying in the blazing sun on the sand, no towel and no swimsuit. I also had to pee really bad, so I sat up and looked for a bathroom nearby, but of course there was none. My cock was huge and impossible to hide, but no one seemed to to notice. So, I decided to go into the waves and pee in the ocean, but my legs wouldn't work properly, it felt like my leg muscles were dead, and the sand was sticky or squishy, and so I crawled into the shallow water near the edge, where the warm water lapped against my naked skin. When the water reached my hands, I was feeling like I was able to pee, but the raging erection between my legs wouldn't permit it.
I was starting to wake slowly, and the heat and humidity of the late summer morning was still like a wet warm blanket, but a light breeze swept across my bare skin, emmenating from the small desk-top oscillating fan, which, in turns, blasted some of the warm air on me, and then across the room on my roommate John. It made a soft whirring sound that was comforting and almost lulled me back to sleep, but the morning wood and need to pee brought me back to full consciousness.
I was still naked and laying on my back, my cock pointing across my abdomen to just past my navel, and it was bobbing slightly with every heartbeat. I reached down and fondled my recently-shaven balls. With my eyes closed, I explored my genitals that felt like smooth soft silken skin, my nuts hanging lower in my sack than usual, due to the extreme heat. It felt great, my fingers grazing across the smooth skin, which made the balls move ever so slightly with the light touch.
My bladder was soon uncomfortably full, so I decided I'd better get up. I rolled over halfway to check the clock, which said 10:30. I glanced across to John, facing the opposite wall, also laying on top of his sheets, a light sheen of sweat coating the back of his neck. His naked back curved down to a narrow waist and his lightly hairy buttocks were pointed right at me.
I stood up quietly, not wanting to disturb him, and tip-toed to the door, where I grabbed John's towel, which I held in front of my crotch as I made my way to the bathroom down the hall. No one else was up, but there was the sound of water running in the bathroom, and as I entered, I could hear someone was in the shower.
I went to the urinal and pissed -- in spite of the boner -- and returned to my room. I left his towel in a heap on the floor, and flopped lazily back onto my bed. My dick was softening a little, but still at least 6", and it seemed to be enjoying the freedom and exposure. My cock was starting to stiffen again as I relaxed on this quiet Saturday morning. I had no where to go, no schedules to keep, and other than going back to sleep, I had nothing urgent to be doing. So, I smiled to myself, and started rubbing my cock, relishing the sensations of the warm air blowing across my body, the touch of my hands on myself, and the new feeling of not needing to hide and be secretive about it.
I realized that only a few days before, I might have done this alone in a bedroom, but never would I have imagined doing it with another person laying so close, and even if John were to wake up and see me, I admitted that it wouldn't be weird, it would just make me hornier. I grabbed my balls with one hand and encircled my cock with the other, running the hand gently around the rim of my dickhead.
I started to replay in my mind some of the sexual encounters I had already in these first few days of my freshman year: in the bathroom, in the showers, in the laundry room. And in this bed. The faces of these amazing and cute young studs swirled before my closed eyes. I wasn't sure I had anything like romantic feelings for any of these guys, but I started to feel like my sexuality (and my seemingly huge cock) wasn't going to be a barrier to making friends here at college, it was actually an asset.
My hands were now performing a very familiar routine. A process of self-gratification I had perfected over the past few years: Slow and gentle strokes from the tip to the base of the shaft, alternating with light quick strokes of just the mushroom head of my penis. And the handling of my balls, fingers toying with my the inch-long spot between my ass hole and the scrotum. The only new technique I decided to add to the routine was a little more asshole exploration, running around the puckered anus, and even pushing a fingertip in a tiny bit, feeling the wet heat inside me, and running the other hand to the top of my piss-slit where precum was now making my cock head slick between my fingers.
I must have moaned slightly, because I heard John shifting in his bed. Holding my position, I twisted my neck, and saw he was now rolled to his other side, facing me. His one arm was over his face, the other hand and cock tucked between his bent thighs. Holding my breath, I thought to myself, "If his eyes are open under there, he could certainly see me easily, but if he's sleeping..."
As if answering my unheard question, he slid his arm down to reveal his angelic face, mouth hanging open, his eyes clearly closed. I continued masturbating. For the first time, I was watching another naked man while jerking off, and it was really hot. I mean temperature-wise, HOT! The gentle, but rhythmic movement was making me sweaty, and in spite of my attempts to stay quiet, I was sure the bed was making some noise.
I looked back to the ceiling, and closed my eyes as I started to edge closer and closer to climax. I stopped moving and just felt the light breeze, enjoying the sensations pulsing through my body. I held my shaft firmly at its base, pointing it at the ceiling and stroked it lightly, then running a finger around the tip and down the thick veiny ridge and back again.
I heard a quiet gasp. "Not yet," he said with a husky whisper. Looking over , I saw John. Clearly enjoying the scene, he also was stroking his morning hardon, and following my every move. When I ran my thumb and finger from the top to the bottom, he did the same. I grabbed the base of my dick and shook the thick rod back and forth. He mimicked that as well. I stroked top to bottom tightly ten or twelve times in rapid succession, and he copied me. I stopped. He stopped. I held my balls, and pulled them as far from my body as I could without tearing them off, feeling them pulsing with energy. He groaned as he tried to do the same.
I sat up and faced him. He sat up too. We stroked like two mimes in a mirror for a few minutes, both of us getting sweatier and hotter, but seemingly daring the other to look away. We continued like this, matching every stroke, every pause, every pull on the nuts, every new gob of spit to lubricate our cocks, until suddenly his eyes rolled back into his head, his mouth opened wide, head tipped to the sky, and he flopped back on the bed as his cock erupted in eight long ropes of white cum. He was moaning, spasms rocking his whole body until he finally came to rest with a huge sign of pleasure.
I stood and walked over to his bed. I wanted to see the cum on his chest, his bed and his thighs. He was still laying there, eyes closed and panting. His hands began to smear the cum across his skin, I caught a whiff of his spunk in the breeze of the fan, and that put me over the edge. I saw flashes of red and gold and streaks of light behind my eyelashes as I began to spurt across his naked body, from his knees to his chin, adding to the sticky goo already there. The waves of pleasure took control of my whole body. I had both hands firmly on my genitals, my head rocking forward and then all the way up, arching my back with each stroke.
John watched me as I came, looking into my face as the cum hit his flesh, and he was really enjoying it! He smiled lustily at me as I slumped to my knees. He quickly scooped some of our mingled semen into his hand and greedily licked every drop.
"I think we'd better go shower, don't you?" John asked.
"Yeah, but my towel and all my laundry is still in the basement," I answered him. "So, I'll run downstairs and get my stuff. I'll meet you there in a few."