My first few weeks as a freshman at the Institute, I felt very strongly that I had come to an alien place where I didn't belong. For starters, I found the Southern California autumn strange compared to any of the Long Island seasons I'd grown up with. Many of the trees changed color, but the weather stayed hot and dry, and the acrid smell of smog never went away. The vaguely Spanish-style buildings, the pervasive palm trees, even the different-looking street signs all combined to make me feel lonely, and far from home.
Although the other students I met were nice to me, I didn't seem to be making any real friends so far, and that made me even lonelier. Being bookish, slight, and non-athletic, I hadn't had much in the way of friends in High School, but I'd hoped that things would be different here - and, as I said, there were LOTS of differences, but unfortunately none that made me feel any better.
I sat down to lunch - alone - and wondered how such a prestigious school could serve such bad food to its students. (I should note that that wasn't all that different from high school.) As I picked at my meal, not really hungry enough to finish it after the first few bites, another guy sat down across from me.
"Hi, I'm Mark Anderson. Mind if I join you?" Several inches taller than me, maybe 6'2", and built like a football player, Mark had a kind of rugged good looks. He wore his dark- brown - almost black - hair a bit shorter than fashionable in 1976, but his bright (if slightly crooked) smile and sparking green eyes offset his tough-guy look, and I found myself smiling back at him.
"You mean you don't have a reservation?" I giggled before I could stop myself. Mentally I kicked myself, knowing that kind of smart remark makes people dislike me, but Mark seemed unfazed.
"Don't you have me on your calendar?"
"Oh wait, I see it now - it was just filed under 'jock.'" I giggled again. Ouch! These things just come out of my mouth, you see, and I only realize how bad they are AFTER I've already said them. I thought about how my dad always told me I was my own worst enemy, but, again, Mark just smiled at me.
"That's gotta be me then," he made a show of flexing an arm. Given he was wearing a tight white T-shirt that said "Minnesota" on it, I could not only see the muscles in his arm, which were substantial, but I also got a hint at his well-muscled torso.
"I suppose I can't contest ID like that." I smiled to keep that from sounding cold. Anyway, at least I didn't embarrass myself this time. I started shoveling some of the icky food into my mouth - partly just to keep myself from saying something else stupid.
"So what sort of ID do YOU have?"
"Mgmph?"
"I mean, did they give you a name, or should I just call you 'Goldilocks?'"
Oops! I guess I can be just as stupid when I don't say anything at all. I choked the food down as fast as I could. "Sorry. I'm Josh Miller."
"Pleased to meet you, Josh." He held out a large, slightly rough hand, and I took it, half fearing that he'd crush my hand or something, like some of the boys I'd known at home might have done, but he just squeezed it gently. Maybe the Institute really was different from High School in some nice ways too.
"Glad to meet you too, Mark. So what year are you?"
"I'm a frosh, same as you. I'm in your Physics, Chemistry, and Math classes. You never noticed me?" He sounded disappointed.
"Well, it's only been a couple of weeks, and there are over two hundred people in each of those classes. Also, most of the action tends to be up at the board." I stopped myself before I could say something worse.
He looked surprised for a second, then grinned again. "Yeah, now that you mention it, I don't think I WANT to do anything to attract attention in any of those classes. Did you see what happened in Physics this morning?"
"You mean the idiot who 'corrected' Professor Goldstein?"
"Yeah. I don't think I'm ever going to speak up in class now."
"I think that guy must have had lousy science teachers in high school and he was used to correcting their mistakes. He didn't realize things are different here."
"Definitely. You could hear that in his tone of voice. I mean, it would have been bad enough if he'd been right, but to be such an asshole and be WRONG!"
"Well, I think what made it worse was that Goldstein had told us he was taping the class for some sort of PBS special."
"I can still hear him. 'Did I make a mistake?' Then, real cold, 'No, that's correct. Thanks for ruining my tape.'" He shivered in a real exaggerated way. "Goldstein basically ripped him a new asshole in front of the whole frosh class." He paused for effect, "ripped him one and then stuffed him into it."
I thought for a moment about the topological implications of being stuffed into your own asshole, and then I just burst out laughing - so hard I couldn't stop. Mark laughed with me, not quite as hard, and he seemed genuinely delighted his joke had had such an effect.
Wiping the tears out of my eyes, I finally said, "See, if you'd done something like that, I'd definitely remember you."
"Yeah, but then I'd never be able to get a reservation to eat with you." He was quick! I make a mental note to remember that he couldn't be the dumb jock he appeared to be; realistically speaking, he could never have got into the Institute if he were. I wondered if he'd passed on some attractive offers from schools with serious athletic programs just to come here.
I chuckled again and he smiled real big. I felt really warm and happy inside, and felt like I'd made my first new friend here. As I went off to my afternoon classes, I no longer felt lonely and alienated, and the whole world seemed brighter somehow.
After class, I went back to my room and started on the homework, my philosophy being to get assignments done as quickly as possible so I could enjoy my free time without work hanging over my head. Not that I had much interesting to do in my free time here. Anyway, before I'd got very far, Mark knocked on the door and poked his head in.
"You busy?"
"Just starting on Physics, why?" My smile revealed that I didn't mind being interrupted at all. He grinned back.
"Want to do some exploring?"
"Sure!" No way was I turning down a chance to spend some time with my new friend. "What did you have in mind?"
He grinned real big at that for some reason. "I'm curious what's inside the old Chemistry building."
"The one that was damaged in the '71 'quake? Can we get into it?" It gave me a real pleasure saying "we."
"I think so. I scored a master key from a friendly Senior."
"Really? Is that okay?" I wasn't sure how much trouble I was willing to get into, and this warred with my desire for Mark to like me.
"I think so. Most of the upperclassmen have them. The Institute really trusts people to follow the Honor System."
I though about asking if that meant we shouldn't abuse the privilege by doing things like entering condemned buildings, but all I said was, "Okay" and followed him out.
Approaching it in broad daylight made us both nervous, and we didn't dare try to open the doors of the main entrance, which faced the quadrangle. However, there was a sort of a tunnel that passed under the building at that point, and we could see a door that entered it at the basement level. Mark tried the key, but it wouldn't turn.
"Damn! I was sure this would work!"
"Let me give it a try." Our house on Long Island had some old, cantankerous locks, and so I felt like something of an expert on making keys do their jobs.
"Sure." He handed me the key. I jiggled the key a bit, got it to turn, and in a few seconds, I triumphantly opened the door. Mark was amazed. "Looks like you're pretty good with your hands." He rewarded me with a big smile and a pat on the back. Not a hard slap, like you'd expect from a jock, but a gentle, friendly pat.
I smiled back, "I'm full of surprises." This seemed to please him a lot, and he patted me again as we made our way into the dusty basement. I just beamed.
The place was filthy, and filled with old wooden desks. We slowly picked our way through them in the gloom and soon enough found our way to a staircase. Up on the next floor, though, the ceilings were very high, all the furniture had been cleared out, and the building was filled with sunlight that streamed in through the tall windows that ran all the way around the floor.
"Wow, this is spectacular!" I turned around slowly, marveling at it. "This is really, really cool."
Mark beamed, "Yeah. Glad you came?" He squeezed my arm. "Let's look upstairs."
The upper floors were similar, except that as we went higher, more and more windows had been boarded over. The stairs to the fourth floor lead up into almost complete darkness, and we ascended cautiously. The stairs ended here, so we knew this must be the top floor.
"Let's see if we can find the roof access." I stepped forward, really into this now.
"Okay, but be careful." Mark followed, not far behind me. Then I bumped into a table I hadn't seen in the dark, and Mark bumped into me from behind.
"Oof!" He didn't really hit me that hard, but his arms flew around me as he caught his balance again. "I'm sorry. You okay?"
"No, I'm fine." It actually felt nice standing there with him pressing up against me, and he kept his arms around me. "Anyway, it was my fault. I should have gone slower."
I felt his nose in my hair and heard him inhale. "You smell real nice, Josh."
"Uh, thanks." I felt kind of funny about that; that seemed like a real strange thing for him to do. I wondered if he was making a joke or something, but, if so, I didn't get it.
"Maybe we should just wait here for a minute so our eyes can adjust to the dark." Still keeping his arms around me - this was getting weird, although I had to admit it felt really nice - he patted me on the shoulder with one hand. His other hand slid down to my stomach, and he squeezed me gently.
"Um, okay." Somewhat to my surprise, this attention was giving me an erection. I hoped Mark wouldn't notice it. I reached around awkwardly and - aiming for his back -- hesitantly patted him on the butt instead. "Oops. Sorry about that."
"It's okay," he whispered, his mouth right next to my ear, "you can touch me if you want to." Still holding me close with his right arm, he let his left arm descend to my crotch and gave me a gentle squeeze there. He make an "uh huh" sound, then "Let me make it easier for you." He released my crotch, put his hands on my shoulders, and turned me around so I was facing him.
"M . . . Mark?" My eyes were adjusting to the dark, and I could see his face now. He was looking down into my eyes with a scary-big smile. He ran a hand through my hair.
"You're so pretty, Josh." I inhaled sharply at that, but didn't do anything else. "I just love your long blond hair." I couldn't believe what I was hearing, but I was just paralyzed. "You're so soft and delicate," he whispered into my ear. He put a hand up under my shirt, and the stimulation was electrical. "How does that feel?"
"It's okay" I said thickly, still not making a move.
"I want you to feel nice, Josh." He pulled my shirt over my head and dropped it onto the table. "Your skin is SO white! Just like ivory." He ran both hands over my torso; they felt a little rough, but still nice. He brushed my cheek with the back of his hand. I shivered. This wasn't really what I wanted at all - nothing I'd imagined - but I couldn't deny it felt good, and I was very hard. Then he pulled off his T-shirt and dropped it on the table.
"I'm scared, Mark." He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me to him. I felt his rippling muscles against my chest and he tried to kiss me on the lips. "What are you doing?" I whispered, trying to pull away.
"Mmmm" he sighed into my ear, then whispered, "What do you think I'm doing?" in a very sexy tone of voice. He pulled back a bit, then started trying to undo my belt.
I reached down and tried to stop him, but he was much, much stronger than I was. "Please don't do that, Mark," I begged him.
Like magic, he let me go and backed up a step, and I instantly worried that now I'd alienated him and he wouldn't want to be friends with me. But he just looked unhappy. "Josh? Haven't you done this before?" I shook my head no. "Really?"
"Really." I choked it out, my eyes were filling with tears. By this point it had occurred to me that maybe he'd never wanted to be my friend at all. That this was all he'd wanted from me. I felt worse than I'd felt when I was lonely, and I felt dirty somehow. I sniffled.
"Hey, don't cry. I'm sorry," he hesitated a moment, then stepped forward and took me in his arms. I'd stood there pretty lifelessly up to this point, but now I wrapped my arms around him and buried my face in his shoulder. He had a nice, clean, slightly sweaty smell. We stood there for a little while. "Are you okay? I just thought it was what you wanted too."
I didn't let go of him. "Well, I thought you wanted to be my friend." I started silently crying again.
"Josh, I do want to be your friend." He gave me a gentle squeeze and thought for a moment. "I want to be your special friend, and I want to take care of you." He lowered his voice, "and I want you to take care of me too." We stood there some more in silence, my head on his chest, feeling his heart beat, listening to his breathing. "With seven guys for every girl at this place, there's not enough girls to go around." I didn't say anything in response to that. "You're almost too pretty to be a boy, you know, and you're soft and effeminate, so I thought you'd be happy if a guy took an interest in you."
This shocked me so much I didn't say anything at first. I'd always been self conscious about how I looked or acted, but no one had ever come right out and told me I was effeminate. I just felt crushed, and ashamed. I guess he felt me stiffen in his arms. "Hey, was that the wrong thing to say?" I just nodded, my face still buried in his shoulder, my tears running down his chest. "Gee, I'm sorry. I don't want to make you cry." He paused again, gave me another squeeze. "Is it okay for me to keep holding you?" I thought about that for a second.
"Yeah." It didn't make a lot of sense, but it felt good the way he was holding me, and his skin on mine was a nice feeling. I sniffled some more, then heaved a deep sigh and stopped crying.
"I noticed you a couple of weeks ago, as soon as I moved into the dorm." He rubbed his nose in my hair again. "At this point, all the girls are taken, but you're cute, and you're sweet, and I'd very much like to be your boyfriend, if you'd consider it." Then he kissed me softly on top of my head.
I guess I knew this was coming by now, but his sweet, gentle approach surprised me - especially considering how aggressively he started out. I mumbled, "people would call me names."
"I wouldn't let anyone do that. Anyway, they won't know if we keep it a secret." He kissed me again, on the cheek this time. "And I'll always treat you with respect."
I let out a little half-tearful chuckle, "you'll respect me in the morning?"
Very seriously, "I'll respect you all the time." Then he whispered in my ear, "may I kiss you now?"
I thought about this. It was like crossing the Rubicon. Part of me wanted to, part of me didn't, but either way it felt like something final would happen if I did it. I raised my head to look at him, and, interpreting that as a "yes," he leaned down and kissed me on the lips. Realizing the mistake, and thinking it was my fault - I'd lead him on -- I decided to just go with it, and although he surprised me when he put his tongue in my mouth, I let him do it and even tried to be responsive. He kissed me for a long time, and started rubbing his hands up and down my back. I more tentatively let my own hands explore the solid muscles of his back. Eventually, he lifted his mouth from mine; his eyes were shining, and he looked very happy.
"I'd like to touch you now." He kept one hand on my shoulder and ran the other across my chest and down to my stomach. "So smooth, so soft" he murmured. Then he took my hands and placed them on his chest. I half-heartedly started feeling his well-built pecs and abs. He had some hair on his chest and quite a bit from just above his naval running down into his jeans. "Oh, that feels so nice, Josh, keep feeling me up."
"I'm glad you like it," I whispered. I was real uncomfortable, but I also really wanted him to like me - still - and I was scared what would happen next.
He took his hands off me (and I immediately took mine off him) and undid his belt, then pulled his jeans and shorts down just enough to expose his erection. Even in the dimness, I could see that he was well hung. I stared at it, and offered no resistance as he undid my pants too, pulling my jeans and shorts down past my knees. I felt his calloused hands gently caress my cock and balls, and it felt so good I made a little moan despite myself.
"You like this too, I think." He sounded very happy at this. "Touch me too, Josh."
I shakily reached over and gripped his massive erection. I realized it wasn't that much longer than mine, but considerably thicker - especially the head. We were both cut, but with enough loose skin that we could use that to masturbate each other, and that's what we did. I simply followed his lead, doing the same thing to him that he was doing to me.
"That's so nice, Josh. Your hand is so soft and delicate. It's so nice." He reached down with his free hand and gently stroked my arm and hand. "Your whole body is so beautiful - all gold and ivory." Listening to him talk about me this way was real embarrassing, and I blushed, but didn't say anything. "Will you let me see all of you, Josh?"
"What?" Actually, I was pretty sure I knew what he meant, but I wanted to stall for time.
"Get naked for me. Kick off your shoes and your jeans. I want to see your whole, beautiful body. Please?"
"Um," he hadn't missed a stroke on my dick, though, and I was really horny now, so I kicked off my shoes, then tried to kick off my jeans, lost my balance, and would have fallen if Mark hadn't caught me.
"Let me make this easier," he easily lifted me up onto the table, then pulled off my jeans, which he laid on the table with our shirts, and then both of my socks. I felt really vulnerable and exposed, but it was pretty exciting at the same time. "It's so wonderful to be able to see all of you, Josh." He ran his hands along my thighs, and down my calves. He tried to touch my feet, but that tickled me way too much, and I giggled and pulled away from him. He let his hands find their way back to my crotch, and cradled my balls and stroked my cock some more. "I still can't get over how smooth you are! I just love touching you."
"Thanks," I whispered.
He stepped up to me, to where I was sitting naked on the edge of the table, and pressed his cock into mine, taking both in his hand and once and jerking us together. This actually didn't feel as good as the individual attention had, but I didn't say anything. He kissed me again, and, as before, I wrapped my arms around him and let him have his fill of me. While he was kissing me, on a whim, I wrapped my legs around his waist as well, pulling him closer to me. He made happy sounds, and kept kissing me. I was horny enough now that I didn't have serious reservations, and I actually felt good that I'd done something that made Mark happy.
I heard his breathing get ragged, and then I felt wetness as he came onto his hand and my stomach. His cum ran down my cock and into my crotch. He must have fired four or five strong squirts before he finished.
"Thanks, babe," he drew a deep breath. "That was SO good!" Disengaging his hand, he let me settle back onto the table on my elbows, my legs still around his waist. I looked up at him, not sure what he was going to do next. He idly smeared his cum around on my tummy for a bit with the palm of his hand, then gripped my cock again and, using his own cum for lube, resumed stroking me.
"Oh that feels MUCH better!" And it did. I squirted on my own stomach in less than thirty seconds. I had to signal him to stop stroking after it quit being nice and started being painful, but other than that, it was perfect.
That, and the fact that I freaked out as soon as I came.
"Let me up!" I was acutely conscious of being naked in a public place - well, sort of a public place - and of being covered with cum.
"Shhh, wait just a moment." Mark didn't seem in any hurry, and with him between my legs, there was no way for me to get the leverage to even sit up.
"Let me go!" I hesitated to raise my voice, because the last thing I wanted now was attention.
"In a minute. Just be still and quiet for a minute, okay?"
Still panicky, but not having much choice, I got quiet. I could feel the cum on my stomach starting to run down my side, and I worried that it would stain my shirt or my jeans. Then I watched as Mark took my socks and started patiently cleaning me up with them. He got my sides and stomach, then cleaned up his own dick, and finally, very carefully, wrapped a sock around my dick, cleaning it up and not overstimulating me.
"Okay, now let's get dressed." He grabbed his T-shirt from the table, pulled it on over his head, and then stepped away, pulling up his pants and fastening them.
I dropped off the table, and the dirty floor felt gritty under my bare feet. I pulled on my underwear, then ended up back on the table to get my jeans on. I was acutely uncomfortable knowing Mark was watching me dress, and feeling miserable and humiliated, I kept looking at the floor. My shoes felt weird on my bare feet - I ALWAYS wore socks, but eventually I was completely dressed. As I stood up again, Mark silently handed me my two cum-soaked socks, which I took, held, and then looked at the floor again. The sticky feeling on my hand and the strong smell of our cum completely destroyed me.
"Sweetie, it's okay."
I didn't say anything. I felt his arms around me again. I tried ineffectually to push him away, but he wasn't having any of that. He took the socks and put them on the table. "It's okay, Josh. I've got you." I'm not sure that really made much sense, but I let him hold me, and I again let myself seek comfort in his embrace, holding him tight as before.
"Did you really never do this before?"
"No."
"Well, haven't you at least fantasized about it?"
"No."
"Not even when you masturbate?"
"I don't."
"You don't masturbate?"
I nodded.
"You expect me to believe you don't jerk off? You really religious or something?" He sounded alarmed.
"No, just I never have."
"That's very weird, you know."
"I'm sorry."
"Hey, hey. It's okay. I just didn't mean for this to be so difficult for you. How old are you, Josh?"
"Seventeen. Seventeen last month."
"Oh. I'm nineteen next month; we're almost two years apart."
"I skipped a grade."
"My folks started me a year late." He held me in silence for a bit. "But I knew how to jerk off when I was eleven."
"They must have taught that the year I skipped." I laughed into his shirt, and I felt him laugh with me. He stroked my hair with his hand.
"You ready to go now?" He sounded a bit concerned. "We can stay here as long as you want."
"Yeah, we can go." I let go of him, and pulled away, and he released me immediately.
"Uh, don't forget your socks." He grinned evilly.
I blushed again, picked up the slimy things, and was at a loss what to do with them.
"Just stuff them in your front pocket and pull out your shirt tail to cover them. We're both filthy and we'll have to shower and change clothes when we get back anyway."
Then he reached over and took my hand, and I let him lead me out and down the steps. As we reached the door back to the outside, I felt him squeeze my hand one last time, then kiss me on the cheek before we stepped outside.
All the way back to the dorm I kept wondering what I was getting myself into.
--To Be Continued