+++If you want to see a grown man cry, then hang out here when you are under age (under 18). I know you don't, so please take your leave quietly so as not to disturb your elders. Of course, you may return when you are of age.
Windmere College assigned dorm room for incoming freshman. We were asked not to request a change until one month trying it out.
I would have immediately gone down the dorm office and asked for a change of room. Why? Because Giles Dumont was my roomie. I would never pick him out for being a gay boy. He was a big, raw boned boy of French Canadian ancestry. He was about 6'3" with wide shoulders and manly face. But, Giles announced as soon as my foot locker was dragged through the door. "Welcome to our little home William, my name is Giles. I am, incidentally, gay. I hope that won't bother you. Are you gay, perhaps?"
I stared at him a moment trying to look fierce. "No I'm not and I would prefer that you don't talk to me. and even better, not look at me."
"Oh my, you are skittish. I promise that I won't attack you, besides you aren't my type."
I was glad to hear that, although I was slightly curious as to why I wasn't his type. I'm not into checking out dudes or even knowing the difference between them, but before I could think I blurted out. "What's your type?"
"Well," he said, sitting up with an interested look on his face. "You're the clean cut ivy league type, especially by your clothes and those school boy glasses. I like 'em a bit rougher with three days beard growth and hair on their chests. Are you hairy?"
Again, before I could monitor myself, I said, "No, my chest is smooth."
He laughed, he knew he had trapped me into talking gay stuff with a gay guy. I compressed my lips and vowed not to say one more word to him and continued unpacking.
We both left the room a few minutes apart, me to get some food and he to...I guess find some other fairies to play with. I met some of my buds and I went with them to their dorms and we played cards and had some vodka on the rocks. About eleven o'clock I staggered back to my dorm.
Giles was in bed. His naked upper body was exposed. He was reading a book. "Hey Billy, if you are going to upchuck, use the waste basket over there."
I slurred, "I never get drunk." I whipped off my shorts and fell on my bed and was out in a second. In the morning I had a hangover, or something. Yes, the usual headache but I also a sore throat and my body felt hot.
I closed my eyes again and moaned.
Giles got out of his bed and came over to me. I slit my eyes. Oh shit, he was naked with his long cock swaying as he walked. "Are you okay?" he said with genuine concern.
I mumbled through my thick throat. "I"m fine. I'm going to get up now. Turn around, I'm bare below the waist."
"How shocking!" But he did turn around and gave me a view of his muscular ass.
"Can you please cover yourself?"
"Oh I forgot. I'm so comfortable being naked. I'll throw a sheet over me."
I struggled to get up but I was strangely weak. This was no hangover. I was seriously sick.
He stood at the end of my bed looking like a Roman senator. "Babe, should I call the school medical office?"
"No, just wait a few minutes and then you can help me get down to the infirmary."
Now gay or not, he was a friend in need. He put one of my hands on his shoulder (after he was dressed of course) and he put his arm around my waist. We made our way to the clinic. I was getting worse by the minute, weak and dizzy. When I sagged, he held me tighter. In spite of my abhorrence of fags, I was really appreciative for his help.
The nurse kept referring to him as my mate and giving him instructions on how to take care of me. "We don't have to hospitalize you, you only have a little temperature. We'll give you a thermometer, check him every two hours. I believe he will be normal by morning. Give him fluids and an aspirin every four hours. That's it. Goodbye."
I was a little cheered that I wasn't dangerously ill and was almost able to walk back on my own two feet, but a staggered twice and Giles put his big muscular arms around my waist to steady me. At last we got into our room. He undressed me and covered me and I fell into a fitful sleep.
I awoke as the bright sunlight entered the room from the dusty tall window. There was Giles, standing at the foot of the bed holding a tray. "I brought you some tea and toast."
I thanked him and ate it. He watched me like a mother hen. I knew that I'd have to talk to him about all this. "Giles, I understand that only a gay guy would have the compassion to take care of a sick roommate. I appreciate it. I thank you, but please, no more tender solicitation. It embarrasses me. I don't like to be so close to a guy."
"I completely understand." He went back to his bed and opened a book. He glanced over at me as I was groaning.
"You okay?" he asked, putting down his book.
"Yeah, don't worry about me. I'm just a little weak and achy. That must have been a short-term flu because my head is cool. It's just the after effect."
I turned over onto my back groaning again from the effect. Giles got up, the sheet partly covering him. As he approached he said, "Now don't get your petticoats in an uproar, but you need a little TLC."
He sat on the bed and began lightly rubbing my arms, kneading my neck and then as he could see that I was relaxing from his attention, he asked, "My I rub your stomach. My mom did it for me when I was not well and it really helps."
Before I could consider whether or not this was proper for a girl-guy to do to me, I felt his big Canadian Woodsman hand on my slightly hairy belly. He made soft circles with great gentleness. I murmured with satisfaction as his touch brought a comfortable feeling that radiated throughout my body.
"I can do more." he said softly. "I can make you a happy boy. Shall I?"
I know I was nuts, but in my weakened condition I didn't have the strength to refuse. I nodded my head slightly. "Good!" he breathed and continued softly swirling his hand over my belly. Soon the circle widened and he was passing through my pubic hair each time. Then my cock began to react. It rose up in a curve toward his hand, as if to temp him. He did waste a moment in sliding his big hand over my cock and held it there, motionless.
"Okay babe, we've come pretty far along. Are you here for the ride? You want me to give you a happy ending?"
I said nothing. I could hear both our deep breathing. My cock was now fully erect and plastered against my stomach. He saw that. "That's you answer, your cock answered for you."
He began a almost unnoticeable movement on my cock shaft. I took in a sharp breath.
He stopped, "Shall I quit?"
He was forcing me to act like a queer by making me agree to his exciting me. I was partly ashamed by also way horny. I loved that hand. It held the power to bring great pleasure. This time I spoke out loud. "I'm not a homosexual, but I know what feels good. I decided to use you for my pleasure. If that suits you, go ahead."
He laughed. "If that logic makes you feel better, that's okay with me. Frankly, I'd let you say anything so as to get you to ejaculate into my mouth. I want your sweet, button-down, ivy-boy spooge.
This was disgusting. I never heard anyone ever talk like that, but now we had reached this level, I grabbed his muscular shoulder. "Get busy Canuck, blow me."
Now I have had about six blow jobs, all from girls of course. Now I know deep down that the girls hated during it and that was a bit of a burn off. Also, they was pretty bad at it. The best I had was from a pro, but this blow job he was beginning was already way beyond those.
He licked my cock like a lollipop. He took the head between his lips and licked the piss slit. I was beginning to get noisy. When he moved down the shaft and began suckling and moving up and down I went into speech. I tried not to, but soon I was saying, "Yeah, that's good. Keep sucking you homo. I getting hotter and closer. Suck harder, use your tongue."
I also found that I was caressing him. Unbelievable! A dude! Still I rubbed his hair lovingly and took his ear lobes in between my thumb and forefinger and stroked them. I rubbed the back of his neck. I considered rubbing his tits, but that seemed over the top gay. Pretty soon I stopped thinking. I was delivering lots of leaking pre cum, and soon I was going into my pre orgasm. I was moaning loudly and humping my thighs. Sweat was breaking out all over my body. Suddenly I stiffened and my prick got harder and longer. He was humming. He knew I was about to deliver. He put his arms around my ass and held me from slipping out and doubled his efforts. With a shriek, I feared almost girlish, I began pumping spew after spew into his sucking mouth. He swallowed all I offered and finally sat up, flecks of my milk on his lips.
"That was yummy," he said smiling with victory.
When I had pulled myself together, I said, "Giles. That was the one and only time. Get used to it. I'm not homosexual, no repeats. I was just weak from the flu. I'm going rest for awhile then get up and get some lunch.
"Sure, sure, that's what they all say. Enjoy your lunch. I know I enjoyed mine."
End Part One
Giles may know our boy better than he knows himself.
Was that the one and only time? See part two.