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May Freshman year
Even before the first icy spray of the shower hit my chest, my hands were scrubbing furiously against my stomach. Soon, the skin surrounding the trail of fine hairs that began at my navel and led down into my pubes screamed bright red under my relentless scouring.
I didn't stop until the bar of soap clutched in my hands had completely dissolved away, until the numbingly cold, pelting needles of water had raised shivering goosebumps all over my body, until my teeth chattered and my sharply pointed nipples felt hard enough to cut glass.
I hung my head down heavily under the spray then, finally releasing my bottled breath in one long, body-raking shudder before I turned around to feel the water cascade down my back. Dropping both arms to my sides, my eyes searched my chest and stomach for any remaining evidence of what I'd just done.
Incredibly, there was none.
But that seemed impossible, though. There had been so much of it.
Cum.
And not just mine, either.
Pete's.
Jesus fuckin' Christ, another dude had just jizzed all over me. Fuckin' on me, his ropes of cum pooling up on my chest and then dripping down my abs when I'd finally gotten up from his bed only minutes ago. I'd felt drenched in it, too, as I tried to wipe it all off before I put my clothes back on, my skin still sticky underneath them when I returned to my room.
At least it was late now- thank God- so Mike hadn't been awake to see me frantically strip down naked, grab my towel, and bolt back out for the bathroom in seconds flat. Now, as I stood watching my skin going pale, I tried not to feel anything other than the frigid water hammering at my shoulders.
But slowly- and in spite of what had sent me running in here- my eyes drifted and settled on my right arm. I could see my veins standing blue atop the muscles of my biceps and forearms, highlighted even more than they usually were by their growing contrast with my skin that had gone pale against the cold.
The fingers of my other hand twitched at my side.
I swallowed thickly against the palpable memories flooding through my mind as my eyes tracked along those lines and my dick began to stiffen even under the icy water. When I closed my eyes and lifted my left hand up to my arm, though, it wasn't my own fingers I felt tracing along those ridges as they lightly slid up my skin.
No, it was Pete.
It was Pete's exploring touch that I felt on me, exactly as I had earlier tonight.
Fuck.
I gasped out another pent-up breath, popped open my eyes, and saw that my dick was rock hard even though the rest of my body still shivered and shook.
"Fuck," I muttered out loud this time and slapped a fist against the tile wall in consuming frustration at what I was still doing in here.
I wanted to be done with this shit.
Shaking my head clear, I spun back around to face the shower spray again, turned the water over to `hot' until the air around me clouded thick with steam, and I grabbed hold of my achingly hard dick. It felt so damn good in my hand that a long, satisfied groan escaped only half-suppressed through my lips as I shut my eyes again and staggered back to lean against the wall. My hand was already working up and down the length of my shaft, pumping it as I felt the pleasure throbbing inside my grip.
But that wasn't all that I felt.
No, I felt the echoes of Pete's dick throbbing against my hand, too, because I knew exactly what that felt like now. I knew how the warm, silky skin covering Pete's steely hard shaft felt underneath my fingers, I knew how the weight and the shape of his dick felt different in my hand from that of my own, and I knew that I could feel the thundering beat of Pete's heart racing through him there.
I knew it, and I felt it all again now as my right hand stroked up and down my wet, slick dick. I thought about Pete's strong hands on me while I traced my own fingers along the defined lines of muscle in my chest and abs, replaying the electrifying, tantalizingly slow journey Pete's touch had taken down my body with my own hand now.
My dick throbbed impossibly fuller, too, as I remembered what I'd seen in Pete's eyes as he looked at me then.
They were...
My dick swelled again inside my grip.
It was...
I sighed under the warm shower spray and threw my head back against the wall, the ragged sound of my own breath reminding me of how Pete's had grown heavy and uneven as I stroked his thick dick in the same way I was now working my own. I could practically feel Pete's strangled breath washing over my throat where his lips had burned kisses into my skin, struggling to keep those sounds of his pleasure from escaping beyond the paper-thin walls of his room. But I had known. I had known exactly how good Pete must have felt because I was right there with him, too.
My right hand gripped tighter around my shaft as I picked up the pace of my strokes and thought about how absolutely amazing it had been to touch Pete in the same way, with this same purpose, to make him feel what I now felt tingling through my whole body, and to give him what he had given me. I groaned through my teeth, louder this time, while I remembered how soft Pete's skin had been under my fingers, how incredible it had felt contrasted with the steely hard strength of the solid muscles in his arms and chest when they had tensed and tightened as I brought him closer... Closer until Pete's toes must've curled up just like mine were now under my suddenly weak and sagging knees, until his low-hanging balls had drawn up tight to his body, until it was no longer building but coming, until Pete had gripped both of his hands in my hair to pull my mouth down over his, until his lips breathed a strangled, silent cry against my own that had somehow screamed even louder than any shout he could've ever made, until I felt Pete's whole body tensing beneath me as his hot cum exploded all over my chest and stomach and dripped down my hand still wrapped tightly around his dick, until...
"Ffffuucck!!!....."
. . . . . . . .
... Slowly...
... Weakly... I opened my eyes again and saw through the steam and the haze still clouding my mind that I must've slid down to the floor against the back wall of the shower as I'd shot clear across the stall to the other. The shower spray fell over me now where I slumped on the ground still panting and shuddering from the orgasm echoing through my body, the warm water quietly and indifferently washing away the ropes of cum that had landed on my chest and hand. I tried to lift myself back up to my feet but couldn't summon the energy. So I remained there on the floor waiting for my still-panting breath and racing heart.
And I smiled.
I'd done alright after all.
I kept the promise I'd made to myself in Hannon's room earlier tonight, and I was pleased now that I'd had the self-possession to follow through on it.
But Pete had been surprised by that, though. I could tell. I could tell by the quick flashes of apprehension I'd caught in Pete's eyes every time his hands or his mouth had gone to explore some new part of my body, by how he had steadily watched me as if he expected me to tense up on him at any moment, to push him aside, or to run away. And, really, I understood why. I'd already given Pete more than enough reason to worry about that.
But tonight I tried to make him understand all the things I still couldn't bring myself to say. No, fuck talking... Tonight I had tried to show Pete that I wanted him to touch me exactly like he had, that my body was literally aching to feel that, and that I wanted to do the same for him.
I'd kept that promise to myself, then, and I was glad that I had. Sure, there'd been things tonight that had unnerved me still, but now they no longer seemed so important. It wasn't important that it had felt strange not having to lean my head down to kiss Pete or to catch his eyes with mine since he was a bit taller than me. It wasn't important that his body felt solid and strong pressed against mine rather than soft and silky. It wasn't important that the skin of his cut dick felt different as I stroked his shift than how it felt jacking my uncut one. And it wasn't important that I'd been momentarily sketched out by Pete's cum smeared all over me after I'd gotten him off...
No, the important thing was that tonight I hadn't allowed myself to ruin everything for Pete. I hadn't fucked everything up by letting Pete see me freaking out about stupid shit like that when, really, it had been so awesome to be with him.
And already I knew I could get over those lingering fears and inhibitions. Rationalizing them away suddenly seemed easy enough. After all, it was pretty fuckin' hard to argue with anything that felt so good, so true, so real...
My body abruptly stiffened against the wall behind me.
... so real.
And I thought then about the other thing I'd seen shining so clearly in Pete's eyes earlier tonight.
Pulling myself up off the floor and ducking my head under the shower spray once again, I was suddenly, acutely aware of what had actually sent me running in here...
... And it wasn't at all what I'd thought it was.
No, the acknowledged fear that had driven me into this shower had been just the dying embers of a shameful fire, an insubstantial smokescreen obscuring what was really gnawing at me.
This wasn't about me and another guy. This was about me and Pete.
I pressed my eyes closed under the shower spray, instinctively wanting to blot out where I knew that thought would take me only to have another one ambush me in its place:
Juliana said this would happen.
When I'd broken up with her, she'd said I would meet someone here, someone who would get to me, someone who... oh, shit... oh, shit...
I shook my head against the warm water pouring over me, refusing to even complete the thought.
Because I didn't need that. I didn't even want it, either. I was so much better on my own. I always had been. And that's the way it should be. It always came down to that, in the end, anyway.
Whatever I felt for Pete... I... I loved it. I hated it. I hated feeling out of control like this, I always had.
I'd always been a daredevil, a ridiculous thrill-seeker with my body. I was the guy who'd seek out the steepest slope to ski down, who'd scale the most precarious route up a rock wall. Those risks to life and limb had never daunted me...
... But my heart...
That's where my bruises did not heal. I could never be so careless with my heart. No, my fucking treacherous bastard of a heart had always been completely un-resilient, remembering everything that hurt and remembering all the people who I had hurt.
This is what had scared the shit out of me as I left Pete's room tonight, not the feeling of his cum on me.
Thinking back to how Pete had looked up at me when I'd lifted my lips off of his and pulled my hand away from his emptied dick, I knew now that what I'd seen so clearly written in Pete's eyes was his terrible, aching vulnerability to me.
Instinctively, I wanted to run from it.
I didn't want to fuck with Pete or his head or his heart. I wanted to warn Pete, to tell him he couldn't, shouldn't count on me like that, that he needed to protect himself from what that meant because I knew... I knew how difficult I would be, how difficult and bottled up I had always been, and I knew just how risky all this was...
There were so many things that I knew.
But.
But what I felt...
What I felt was the thrill. That rush. Still. Even now, after I'd gotten up, dressed, left, and come back here, I still felt it. And I felt my trust in truths that had been self-evident for so long crumbling around me; I felt blind and foolish and naïve; I felt just how much Pete wanted this; and I felt how selfish it would be for me to hold out on him now.
I couldn't deny Pete what he wanted.
I didn't want to.
And I felt the enormous weight of just how important Pete had already become to me, too. If I had been afraid before, I was fucking terrified now.
I knew, deep, deep down, that there was no way Pete or I could come out of this unscathed...
But I felt it.
And I smiled.
To be continued.