Disclaimer: This is an Adam's Gay Reader pulp story (#239) written by Derek Olson. There is no copyright on it, so I wanted to share it with others before it gets lost forever. This story includes sex between adult males. If this is unappealing or illegal in your location, please do not read this story.
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-DurtyRiter
Chapter 5: Coming On Strong
The next day, at practice, I tried to get Felipe into conversation, but I got nothing but monosyllables out of him. I asked him if anything was wrong.
"No," he said. "Nothing."
"Well, how about coming over for dinner tonight at my that house?"
"I can't," he replied immediately and walked away.
You guys know I have a pretty thick skin. Things don't usually get to me, but Felipe was definitely throwing me off stride. I felt like we had a lot of getting acquainted to do and he was brushing me off. Me, a senior, the team manager, for Christ's sake.
Day after day it was the same story. I'd try talking to him about his freestyle time, or his classes, or the weather -- anything! -- and he'd barely answer me. I asked him if he was mad at me. No. Was he mad at Coach? No.
To be honest, I almost began to question my own mental state. Had I imagined the shower scene? Was it all a wild fantasy brought on by -- what? overstimulation? Well, I sure as hell was stimulated by Felipe. That, at least, hadn't changed one bit since I'd first laid eyes on the guy.
One night I was in the library and I spotted Felipe in the smoking lounge. He was sitting off in a comer, smoking a cigarette. I walked over to him.
Seeing me, he started to jam his cigarette in an ashtray.
"Hey, Felipe, you don't have to do that. I won't say anything to Coach."
I winked at him.
"You won't?"
He'd raised the cigarette back to his lips.
"No. I know he's fanatical on smoking but I figure people should be able to do what they want. Of course if he ever sees you smoking, he'll probably kick you off the squad."
"I wouldn't care."
The guy was not happy, definitely not a happy camper.
"Felipe, something's wrong. And you're keepin' it bottled up. I wish you'd clue me in a little."
He was quiet for a minute, just puffing on his Camel. Finally he let out a long sigh, glanced around us, picked up his books, and said he wanted a Coke.
"Okay, let's go to the snack bar. I'll treat."
We were halfway across the quad when he began talking.
"My last two years in high school I went steady with a girl in Albuquerque."
Bummer!
"I thought she'd come to college with me but she didn't get accepted anywhere I did. In the end she decided to get a job and go to night school at the University of New Mexico."
Felipe's voice had a hard, bitter edge. I was hanging on every word.
"We promised we'd call each other once a week during the fall. And we did for the first two weeks. But she sounded . . . different."
I could tell this was difficult for Felipe to talk about.
"Different?"
"Yeah, different. I know her, man, and I know when something's not right with her. Anyhow, she sent me a letter. I got it yesterday."
"Yeah?"
"She's met someone in night school. They started out doing homework together a few times, and then . . . bitch!"
Felipe's anger hung in the air like a black cloud. I didn't know what to say. We walked the rest of the way in silence.
The snack bar was nearly deserted. I bought us each a Coke, and we went upstairs and found a couple chairs near the fireplace. Late September gets nippy up here, doesn't it?
I tried picking up the conversation where it had left off.
"Did she say anything else?"
"She's doesn't want me to call for a while."
Felipe thrust his long, blue-jeaned legs out in front of him and looked off into the distance.
"I'm sorry, Felipe."
Was I really? Not about his girlfriend, not at all. But Felipe needed a little sympathy.
You're smirking, Doug. How come? You think I can't be sympathetic? You just don't know me well enough.
Anyway, I decided it was time to change the subject.
"What are you taking this term?"
"English, Economics, Art History."
"You thinking of majoring in one of those?"
"Yeah, Economics."
We talked for a while about the Economics department at Tuxhill and then I asked Felipe how he was getting along with his roommates. I knew he shared a triple with two guys from Florida.
"I hate them."
I couldn't keep from laughing.
"They're in competition to see who can score the highest with chicks on campus."
"And you . . . don't feel like competing?"
"I could. But I told them 1 had a girlfriend back home. They said it didn't matter."
"Does it?"
"To me it does. Or it did . . . I'm not sure any more."
I let that sink in, on both of us. So far neither of us had referred to what had happened at the gym. We were talking around it. Talking around the issue of Felipe's interest in male sex. Did he like it both ways?
"Felipe, let's take in a movie. The Film Society is showing Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid at 10. We could make it.
He stared into the fire, rapping his knuckles idly on the chair arm. He pulled out his pack of Camels and lit up, tossing the match into the flames.
"I don't know," he said at last.
"Then come to my room."
He turned quickly to face me. I was almost afraid he'd jump me. Instead he drew on his cigarette. And frowned.
"I've got some beer. A tape deck. All the amenities."
Say yes, you gorgeous freshman hunk. Just say yes!
"Man, I think you want something outta me. Am I right?"
Those deep brown eyes of his were boring holes in me. I decided to go for broke. Nothing ventured.
"Yeah, you're right."
That seemed to startle him. He looked away from me, reached for his Coke, drained it. Ran his hand down his thigh, kneading the muscle. I flashed back to the scene of Felipe standing in the shower, soaped all over his steamy body, his cock springing to life.
"Okay, I'll come up for a beer."
Real nonchalant. Noncommittal. But what was Felipe buying into, I wondered. How far would he go?
I'd just have to wait and see.
We gathered our stuff and walked to the fiat house. Once we were alone in my room, Felipe took out his pack of Camels.
"Wait, Felipe," I said.
"Hey, what do you mean, man? You gonna give me a lecture?"
"Uh unh. Gonna give you something better."
I went to my top dresser drawer and took out a couple marijuana joints. Felipe smiled. I put both joints in my mouth, lit them, and handed one to the freshman. Then I lit a candle and doused the lights.
"What's this, some kind of religious ceremony?"
I'd never heard Felipe wisecracking before. It seemed like a good sign.
"Maybe," I said. "Depends on what you worship."
Felipe walked over to the window, looked down at the street, turned, and faced me. His next words caught me totally off guard.
"Why don't you take your shirt off?"
Hey, wait a minute, whose show is this, anyway?
This wasn't the scenario I had planned. I figured as a senior I'd be taking the initiative here. It suddenly dawned on me that I hardly knew this guy at all -- what he was looking for with me. And somehow that made everything a lot more exciting. I decided to go along.
I stripped to the waist. In the flicker of candlelight, the scalloped curves of my chest would be clearly visible to Felipe, I knew. And he was looking at me. Looking hard.
"Come over here," he said.
I walked to him.
"Turn around."
Cojones. The swimmer-boy from Albuquerque had balls.
His hands came around the front of me, rested on my hard belly for just a second, then slipped up toward my pecs and settled on them. I've got well-defined pecs from all the curling I do in the weight room. Nothing I like better than a good pair of pecs.
Felipe grasped my meaty pecs like they were tits. He cupped them. I knew he'd done this with his girlfriend. It didn't bother me -- in fact, for some reason it turned me on.
He worked the flat of his hands in circles around my nipples, brushing across them on every other sweep. They surged to life in his hands, stiffening to hard protruding tips. Felipe played with them, pinched them lightly, made them respond to him.
Meanwhile our bodies had closed together. Against my butt I felt the hard mound of Felipe pressing forward.
His hands roamed downward now, across my stomach, onto my inner thighs. He held me by the thighs and pulled me up and back against him, against his hardness. It took me by surprise. Brought a sudden leak of pre-cum from my already hardening cock.
He reached for my belt buckle and undid it. Told me to bend over and take off my shoes.
How could I bend over in front of a hot stud like Felipe? It went against every defensive male instinct. Besides, it meant he was in charge, which was a reversal of what I had always insisted on. None of what was happening made any sense in terms of what I knew about myself.
It just shows I didn't know everything.
I leaned down and yanked each shoe off. I wasn't wearing socks. When I stood up again, Felipe reached for my fly and unzipped it. The pressure of his hand on my growing meat sent a jolt through my pelvis.
"Pull 'em down."
There was nothing harsh about his voice. It wasn't the barked command of a drill sergeant to a private. He was just saying, I like your grass, I like your body, and -- drop your trousers! I almost spun around and punched the kid out. A frog talking to me like that!
But I was into it. Don't know why. I didn't understand it then, and I can't explain it now. But I was into it.
I dropped my jeans to my ankles and shuffled them off. That left me wearing nothing but a pair of boxers. He ordered me to drop those, too, and son of a bitch, I did. Whatever the kid had in mind, the ball was in his court. Or balls.
He drew me back again, into the warmth of his denim crotch. His hands held me fast, while his mouth found the sensitive crook of my neck just above the clavicle. He sucked on me. I knew I'd have a hickey in the morning. I didn't care. I'd given up trying to script the scene.
My dick was jutting up proudly by now, hard as steel.
For a long time he worked my neck and shoulders with that suctioning. I had never experienced anything like it, but then I'd never been made love to by a guy who usually got it on with women.
Finally he propelled me from the rear toward my bed.
"Lie down. Belly down."
Fuckin' Felipe! I wanted to kick him in those bulging cojones of his. But the engines of lust were too revved up by now to risk a stall-out. I did what he told me. Only I couldn't lie flat cause of my raging hard-on.
"You can watch."
I looked around to see him stripping. He did it nice and slow, like a tease. First his shirt came off, revealing the fine, smooth mounds of his chest with the dark pips riding the lower edges of his pecs. I hadn't noticed before how big-shouldered the guy was.
Next he kicked off his shoes.
I should have felt foolish lying on my bed waiting for Felipe, but instead it felt intense, almost electric, like time had stopped, like everything Felipe did was exactly right and my only duty was to watch him and wait for him.
Now he peeled down his jeans and tossed them aside. He took hold of his black bikinis and rolled them off in one smooth gesture.
God, the cock on him! It sprang to full erection as soon as it was out in the open. The tip was moist already. My brain got hammered by two urgent messages: it's an incredibly beautiful prick, and if it's headed for my hole it's too big!
"You got any lube?"
I wanted to say, hey, let's cool it for a second, Felipe, let's talk this over, pal. I got to think this over for a while. But I couldn't have him think I wanted to back out, not now. And truth was, I knew I'd never forgive myself if I bailed out.
"Yeah, over on the shelf."
I motioned to the place and he got the tube.
Okay, guys, now comes the 64 dollar question: was I cherry? I know you're wondering that. Well, two of you are. Doug isn't wondering cause he already knows the answer. Let's just say, almost. Only two exceptions, and they both happened my freshman year. Here I was a senior, for God's sake, with my ass ripe and ready for this Hispanic stud from New Mexico.
I felt his hands on my ass, lifting it up, parting it. I buried my head in the pillow. Next thing I felt was the cold lube on the tip of Felipe's finger. He was daubing it right on my hole, working it in small circles around the rim. For the longest time he just kept teasing the sphincter till eventually it opened up to him.
That's when he intruded his thick, tubed-up finger inside me and got a huge groan out of me. My super-stiff cock kept ramming into the mattress, which wasn't real comfortable, so I went up on my knees, raising my ass even higher.
"That's good, that's good," said Felipe. "I think you're ready."
We both knew that! He came in behind me. I felt his sausage -- so thick! -- moving between my cheeks to the small hole that twitched and itched for it.
Contact!
He ground that cock-tip against me a few times, as if testing me, and then pressed forward till he popped in.
"Unnnnhhh," I gasped. It hurt. His flared corona was stretching my anal muscles wide, giving me a mild case of panic.
But the passage was well-lubed and he kept going. As soon as his head was further in, the pain quickly eased. As he pressed steadily onward I began to feel like I was being stuffed by a python. Yet it wasn't painful, just a totally-stuffed sensation.
Felipe was primed to fuck. He was hunched over my back, grinding that hard cock right up my gut.
"You got a great ass, Skip," he said hotly. "Real tight."
"Glad you . . . unhhh." He had just thrust into me so hard it knocked the breath out of me.
"A lot tighter than my girlfriend's ass," he said. I was so high by then, so horny, so spaced out, that I wanted to thank Felipe for liking my ass better than his girlfriend's! What I actually said was: "Your fuckin' cock is huge, Felipe. And you know how to use it."
He did. His humping was so steady, his angles so perfect that he had me headed for meltdown a lot faster than I would ever have expected.
He sensed where I was headed, so he purposely slowed down, ran his hands up and down my flanks, planted some more hickeys on my back. This 18-year-old kid was a master of the slowed-down-fuck. He'd learned how to "tread water" in the middle of a fuck so his girlfriend could catch up. And now the one benefiting from his sex skills was me!
He played me like a well-tuned instrument. Toyed with my balls. Chowed down on the muscles of my sweaty shoulders. Scratched and teased my tits. Nibbled on my ear lobes. And pumped my butt with ever-increasing urgency.
His hot hand encircled my cock. It sent me into a freefall toward ecstasy. No barriers now. No nets outstretched. Just a straight plunge.
"OH CHRIST, YOU'RE MAKING ME CUMMMMM!!"
My hot juice came spurting out in a torrent, spattering my chest and the sheet under me.
Like a perfect lover, Felipe had brought me to climax before he let himself go. But now he tumbled to his own explosive climax. He hammered my ass with a few powerful thrusts and then let loose.
"Oh man, TAKE MY JUICE . . . NOW!"
I felt the sperm-blast deep inside my ass. It bathed the sore tissues of my well-fucked ass, leaving me soothed and exhausted.
A long time later, as we lay in the dark, I spoke.
"Man, you know what you're doing, don't you?
"He laughed, then said with just a trace of bitterness: "I oughta be in good practice after two years."
I put a hand on his chest.
"How that chick could want anyone else but you in her bed is way beyond me."
He was quiet for a minute and I wondered if I'd said the wrong thing.
"Me, too," he said at last, and we both cracked up.