NOTICE: This text contains adult material. If you are under 18 years old, if this material is illegal where you live, or if you find this material offensive, you are choosing to read on at your own risk.
At the date of submission of this story, the Nifty Archives website is registered with www.surfwatch.com, www.cyberpatrol.com, and www.netnanny.com in a good-faith effort to help parents monitor and control their children's internet access. This author does not endorse or represent these software products or the organizations sponsoring them, nor does this author guarantee their effectiveness.
Your comments are welcome and appreciated. Please send email to almosteight@hotmail.com
I grew up in a small conservative farm town in the Midwest. In high school, I seemed to have things pretty well made. I was on the basketball and baseball teams, got good grades, ran with the popular crowd, and generally had a good looking girlfriend to take out (not that there was anywhere to go). In a place like that, those were the important things, and I pretty much had them covered.
While I was always pretty athletic and good at sports, I was a little on the thin side. I was 6'1, 160, with blond hair and blue eyes, kind of a lanky athletic build. I matured late so I was pretty young-looking even as a senior in high school, but good looking enough to get my share of dates. I was 16 years old before I figured out how to jack off, but wasted no time catching up after that. By the time I was a senior, I had had sex with a number of girls and was pretty confident in my sexual experience and abilities.
For college, I traded that town for a slightly larger one and a large Midwestern University. I had been looking forward to college for as long as I could remember. thinking ahead to four years of making new friends, partying, and maybe a little bit of studying. I wasn't nervous about leaving for college at all. I guess since I had always had things pretty easy, I figured college wouldn't be much different. I wasn't worried about fitting in - making friends or finding girls to date - since that had never been a problem before.
Freshman year In the back of my mind, I guess I did have a little apprehension about the growing interest I was having in guys. I didn't identify as gay AT ALL and had no desire to be gay. I had never known a gay person other than the rumors I had heard about certain guys from my high school. These were always the effeminate guys, though, and not people that I identified with at all, since I really hung out with more of the athletes and more regular/masculine guys. So, in the back of my mind I was hoping to live with a good looking athletic guy and had all kinds of images of what might happen if we got to know each other.
All of that proved quickly to be just so much fantasy. I lived with two guys my freshman year. They were both nice enough guys, but not particularly attractive and certainly not athletic. I was pretty disappointed the first day of school when I met them.
That disappointment didn't last too long, however, when I started to meet some of the other freshmen on my floor. There were a couple of pretty good looking guys and then a couple more who weren't necessarily that attractive, but they were cool guys and interested in the same kinds of things that I was. If I look at the friends that I still have from college a couple years later, most of the guys are guys from my floor who I met in the first couple of weeks there and lived in my dorm. I guess that says a lot about how proximity and fate can impact you in ways that you just can't control.
While I had an underlying curiosity about guys, it wasn't really at the forefront of my thought process. If anything, I pushed all thoughts about that stuff to the back of my mind, trying to avoid the unthinkable. I was more consumed with getting along with my friends, getting drunk, and the seemingly futile efforts to get laid. We were at a catholic school, and it quickly became apparent that sex wasn't going to come as easy with the girls there as it did in high school. The lack of action was the topic of quite a few conversations after nights partying or in the bars.
There was a group of 8 of us from my floor that became pretty good friends. It's strange to me that even though all of the guys identified as straight, the 8 of us were probably the best-looking of the 30 freshmen on my floor. But that was the case, and it was fine by me.
What was also strange to me was the degree to which homo-eroticism flourished in that environment. My friends from high school never talked about jerking off, or their dicks, or anything remotely "gay" like that. To these guys, on the other hand, anything was fair game. Guys were constantly doing things that completely surprised me about that.
For example, we had shower stalls that had curtains, five stalls in the bathroom each meant for one person. With probably 100 guys on the floor, certain times of day would cause a back-up waiting for the shower. It was nothing for one of my friends to rip open a shower curtain and ask to "climb in" with the other guy (always just among our friends, not other random guys). There is no way you could have jerked off in any of those showers without risking someone pulling the curtain open on you.
Or, a guy would say, "I'm gonna go spank it" and leave the room to go back to his bedroom to do just that. They were constantly whipping out their dicks in one way or another, casually or whatever. Someone would say "hey look at this" and you'd look over they would have their cock out. It was all a big joke. Most of the time it was just soft dicks and guys were just doing it for a laugh.but occasionally it would progress into showing hard too.
As with any group of guys there was also constant discussion about someone having a little dick or someone else having a big one or whatever. I am just under 8 inches myself but never really felt that it was too big. in fact I guess I always thought it was kind of small so I didn't really get involved in these conversations too much. Well, after enough of these talks it became widely known that two of the guys in particular thought they were really hung. One of them was a little Irish guy who played on the soccer team named Mark. Mark had dark brown curly hair and fair skin, typical Irish looking guy - good looking but not incredible or anything. He was small and wiry, maybe 5'8, 140 pounds. The other guy was named John, and he was about 6'0 and 175, blond hair. He was a really cool guy and good looking, but he tended to attract more girls with his charm than anything.
Anyway, one day we were having the usual discussion about who had the biggest dick and all 8 of us were in the room. After listening to these two guys go on and on, everyone started taunting them to prove it. It didn't even really take that much to get them to do but finally they decided to have a contest and whoever had the biggest one the other one would get him a beer the next time we were out. I don't remember how they got them hard, but maybe it was just the thought of the contest or they rubbed them a bit, who knows, but next thing I know, they are both standing in front of us, pretty much side by side and they drop down their pants and they are standing there in just boxers and we could all tell that they weren't kidding. A little more prompting and the pulled down their boxers, and it was like FUCK>>
This wasn't like whose dick is 7.5" and whose is 8". These two guys each had between 9 and 10 inches. they were so big that it was goofy to see and we were all cracking up laughing. They had them out for a good couple minutes while we all marveled at them. Mark's was really long and thick, and since he was a little guy it looked even bigger. He didn't have any body hair at all, just a little bush of brown hair around it. It was so big that it didn't even stand straight out from his body but it drooped toward the floor. It was close, but John's was bigger. It was totally thick all the way from the base to the head, almost as thick as my forearm. They finally put them together, basically side by side but not touching, and John was declared the winner. What is funny is that even after that "contest" once in a while they would get prompted again to get them out to measure up and they would always do it. I guess if you are that hung and proud of it it's not a big deal to whip it out.
While I certainly enjoyed these kinds of displays, they also made me a bit uneasy. Having those thoughts about guys I was always worried about showing too much interest in what was going on, so I always kind of hung back in the background, following along but never really initiating anything myself.
Most of freshman year that was all that basically happened. There was a lot of looking and goofing around but it was all a big joke. Even though I had interest in other guys, it was never enough to really compel me to do anything about it so I just kind of sat back and let the world go by and that really wasn't a part of it. I was pretty oblivious and wasn't really into guys bodies or checking out guys or anything like that at all.
Toward the end of the year, something happened that I guess changed that mindset a bit, and made me think more and more about acting on some of those feelings. It had nothing to do with my friends, but at the same time, it changed the way I looked at them and thought about myself and what I was interested in.
I had heard a number of times about the bathroom in the basement of the library. It was always kind of giggled and whispered about as the place you shouldn't go because that is where the "fags" went. I guess to me it was intriguing, but never really enough to generate interest in going. I also didn't really think it was a real thing.more of an urban myth type of thing. But it always kind of hung there in the back of my mind. During finals at the end of my freshman year I had been studying really late one night. At that point the library is open 24 hours, and since I was a pretty good student I would basically just camp out there during finals week, leaving only to eat or sleep or to actually take an exam. So one night it was the middle of the night and I had been studying for a while. I decided to take a break and that point thought I should go bust a nut for a little stress relief.
Instead of going to the small bathroom on the floor where I was, I went downstairs to the bathroom in the basement. It was pretty big, with like 15 stalls on one side and about 15 urinals on the other, divided by a big wall. Well since I was going to be jerking off I went to one of the stalls farthest down from the door. At that point I was pretty naive and was basically going way down to the end to keep anyone from catching me jacking off. The bathroom was empty since it was so late, so I settled in to about the last stall and started to rub one out. There was some graffiti and shit on the walls, but there is always that kind of stuff, so I didn't think too much of it.
I was there for a few minutes and someone else came in. I could hear him walking and the steps were getting closer. Well, sure enough he took the stall right next to me. Like I said, I was pretty naive, so I was thinking dammit now I am gonna have to wait til this guy is done. I thought it was a little strange that with all those empty stalls he took the one next to me, but again I was clueless so I just kind of sat there quietly, waiting for him to finish. And waiting.
Pretty soon I started to hear noises coming from that stall, typical shuffling sounds. It took me about two seconds to figure out that this guy was jacking off too. Being (still) clueless, I had no idea that he was there to meet someone else, I figured that he was just doing his own thing. I was straining my ears to hear him because I thought it was hot, but I was afraid to jack myself because I thought he would hear me and get pissed (!).
So this went on for a few minutes, and then I started to look around a little bit. When I finally turned my head to the side, kind of behind me, I could see reflection in the tile that went into his stall, and what I saw freaked the hell out of me. This dude was staring back at me in the reflection. I was like, shit I got caught. So I froze and sat there. More jerking sounds. I looked again, and he was looking at me still. so I looked back and this time he smiled and looked down toward his cock. I couldn't make out his dick or anything but I could see his arm moving up and down as he was stroking it.
That made me immediately hard and I reached down and grabbed my own dick and started to do the same. So I am working on my own dick now, and all of a sudden I see a hand reach underneath the partition, making jerking motions. The guy wanted to grab my dick. I couldn't believe this was happening at all.
I was totally paranoid and freaking out and afraid that someone was going to come into the bathroom. There was no way I was going to stick my cock down there because I was afraid I was going to get caught. I looked back behind me again and he was still looking at me. I couldn't tell too much about him, but he looked pretty decent looking and had on a baseball cap. I just shook my head "no" and started getting myself put together to leave. So I'm waiting for my hard-on to go down so I can pull my pants up, and all of a sudden he reaches under the stall again. This time he has a piece of paper and he hands me a little note. All it says is "Meet me at the 5th floor bathroom in 5 minutes."
The upstairs bathrooms are different than the big one in the basement. The are single bathrooms that lock from the inside; only one person can go at a time. I grabbed the note and flushed it down the toilet and I got my pants up and I got out of there. I was so freaked out and nervous, there was no way I was going to meet this guy. I thought about all the possibilities, that he was gonna beat the shit out of me, or that he was someone I knew trying to play some kind of trick on me or whatever. I basically just panicked and got out of there and went back to study.
When I finally did go to bed again, I laid there thinking about that guy and wondering what exactly that whole situation was about. I had no idea that kind of thing happened on a regular basis and no idea how that night was going to change the next three years for me so much. Since it basically happened at the end of the school year, though, I basically had the whole summer to think about it before anything else could happen again.
So I finished my exams and went back home and spent the summer more confused than ever. I dated two girls that summer. That isn't all that spectacular until I mention that they were roommates at a nearby college, and that I dated them at the same time. We had a great time that summer, and basically between one girl or the other I got laid pretty much daily. A couple times I even persuaded them to work on me together. They never did anything with each other, but it was still incredibly hot to have two naked girls in bed with me at the same time.
Since this is supposed to be more about my growing interest in guys, though, I will leave out the details of those two and that summer, moving on instead to a more adventurous time with guys.
Sophomore year My second year in college my roommate situation changed dramatically. Since there were 8 of us guys who pretty much wanted to live together, we were basically forced to separate out into smaller groups. We ended up splitting into two groups of 3 and then 2 others in a double room. I was in one group of three, and my two roommates: you guessed it, Mark and John. Talk about feeling inadequate. two hung roommates like that is enough to give the most confident guy a complex.
Anyway, it was a blast living with those two. Even though we hung out with the larger group most of the time, there was always an hour or two before bed that we would talk and goof around. I, of course, had plenty of stories to share with them about my summer and the two girls I had hooked up with the whole summer and they would constantly ask me to repeat the stories.
We had a set of bunk beds and a single bed. My bed was on the top of the bunk buds, and Mark was on the bottom, and John had the bed across from him. Right from the start I could tell that Mark was jacking off almost every night after we had all started to drift off. The bed would shake lightly and I could hear little noises now and then. I would pretty much do the same thing, so for all I know he could tell I was doing it as well.
Well a few weeks into the semester we were both in the middle jerking off, I
suppose we both thought secretly, and all of a sudden John yells out "would you two homos quick whacking off please, I'd like to get some sleep."
Mark immediately starts laughing and that gets me going so pretty soon we are all cracking up. I just said "well I have to do it to get to sleep" and Mark agreed, but no one wanted to have to listen to it (except me of course) so we agreed to keep the radio on a little bit so that we could do our thing. That was how we settled that issue for the time being, and I guess it worked out ok, although I would have liked to have seen that discussion go a little further. That would come later on, though.
Meanwhile, I had certainly not forgotten the encounter I had at the library at the end of the previous year. The problem was, I was acutely aware of the rumors about that place, and I was paranoid even to be seen going there. I studied in a group with my friends most of the time, and I was sure that I couldn't slip away without somebody getting all into my business. Add to that my confusion about what exactly went on there (like, did you kneel down under the stall, did you just watch each other, etc.) and I pretty much avoided the place for the first part of the semester. Until mid-terms.
Once again I found myself studying around the clock, and once again I found myself wiped out and horny in the middle of the night. So, to the basement I went.
This time there was already somebody in there, way down at the end in a stall. I was almost shaking I was so nervous, but I was so damn curious that I had to just go for it. I took the stall next to the guy and sat down. I started looking around at all of the graffiti on the walls, some of it gay some of it anti-gay, some pictures of dicks some pictures of chicks, all kinds of stuff really. And then, toward the bottom of the partition I noticed that someone had written "tap foot for bj" and underneath it someone else had written "silently, as a visual sign."
So I am looking at the lower part of the partition and then my glance goes down further and it's the guy's leg from the next stall. And his foot. And it's tapping, silently. And if there was a time when all of that shit kind of clicked together and made sense, this was it. I am watching this guy tap his foot and it's like, Holy Shit, this guy is here for the same reason I am. So I slowly start tapping my foot. And every time I tap, he taps back, and now I KNOW that something is gonna happen.
This goes on for a minute or two, and then I see a big shadow as he is basically looking under the stall partition. I moved my face over so that he couldn't see who I was, but I know that he could see me stroking my hard dick. And then he disappeared.
I was really confused then, and I tried to look under the stall myself, but I didn't see anything. I didn't hear him leave or anything so I had no idea what was going on. Then I just sense something and figure it out. he has gotten up on the toilet and is staring over the wall at me. I look up and see him.
I guess first I was looking to see if it was someone I knew and once I knew that wasn't the case I calmed down a little bit. Then I was checking to see what he looked like. He was about my age but looked a little older (remember I looked pretty young), dark hair, kinda big from what I could see. He didn't smile or anything just was watching me. This lasted a few seconds and then he got down and I heard the door open to his stall, and then the next thing I know he is standing in front of my door, peering in through the crack. Well I was nervous but I was so damn horny that I didn't care. I reached up and I opened the latch and slowly opened the stall door. There he was standing out front and he was pulling on his dick. He wasn't just kind of big, he was huge. At least 6'5 and big and built. Decent looking. Since I was at a football school I immediately assumed he was a guy on the football team.
We just kind of sat and watched each other for a bit, each of us tugging on our dicks. Then he started moving into my stall. That got me nervous, like what if someone else came in. I still didn't quite figure out what he wanted but as he started shuffling in further and further it hit me. he was moving toward my mouth. He wanted me to suck his cock.
I didn't know how I felt about that, really. But the closer and closer it got, with this big guy just sort of looming over me, I just kind of opened my mouth and the next thing I know I was taking it into my mouth.
I remember thinking for a big guy, he really didn't have that big of a dick at all, maybe about 6" and not really thick. But, it was the first time that I had ever sucked anyone so I wasn't too good at it. I don't think this guy had really done much either because he was just holding my head a bit and sliding his dick in and out, probably only for about a minute and then all of a sudden, I had this odd taste in my mouth. He had busted his nut into my mouth. He then kind of pulled it out, backed up and left. The whole thing from the time he tapped his foot until he left was probably less than about five minutes.
So I am then spitting in the toilet, trying to get this nasty come taste out of my mouth, but at the same time just incredibly turned on and jacking my dick off. Took me about 30 seconds to blow my nut onto the wall of the toilet stall (so that's what all those streaks are. man I was naive). Then I had to leave. I was paranoid leaving there as much as anything, about someone seeing me come out of there and wondering what I had been doing.
That episode really freaked me out. I had wanted to do something like that for so long, but at the same time I was so averse to being "gay" that it caused me some hard feelings. Did it make me "gay" that I did that? Would people be able to tell? What if I ran into that guy around campus? At the same time, I wanted to go back and do it again. For the most part though, paranoia kept me away from the bathroom for the rest of the semester and that was my only encounter during the first half of sophomore year.
The second semester was a different story though. As you recall, my friends and roommates in the dorm were all about showing off their dicks every chance they had. It was no different this year, and living with the two hung roommates who were so proud of their endowments made for nonstop shows. During the first semester, John had started to date this chick and almost immediately at the beginning of the second semester he started spending most of his nights at her place.
Well one night in January we had gone out to a local bar for some beers. It was a school night so we didn't really go too hard or too late, but we got back with a nice buzz. John immediately left to go to his girlfriends place and Mark and I were alone. As usual we were giving each other shit about something or other, and all of a sudden, like usual, he's got his dick out and waving at me. Well I was drunk so I was pretending to be annoyed so I ran up and tackled him and we started wrestling. He was small, but really strong and so it was a good match. Finally he worked himself on top of me and pinned me down. The thing was though, his dick was still out of his pants and now it was half hard after wrestling around. The way he was positioned on me his cock was almost brushing up against my chin.
He started to taunt me with it, saying shit like "you know you wanna suck it. Suck it. Come on Adam." Well I wasn't wasted but I was definitely buzzed. I looked up at him and he had this look on his face that was, I thought, only half joking. I couldn't tell if he was testing me or what, but at this point it was like this guy has his dick right there and it's a sweet ass dick. I don't even remember specifically how I took that last step, but I remember closing my eyes and tilting my head down a little bit and moving forward.
And the next thing I know I can feel his dick in my mouth. And I am sucking my roommate dick. He wasn't rock hard at first but pretty soon he sure was. I couldn't hard get any of it in my mouth beyond the head, but he changed positions and moved so I could get some more. And again I am sure it was terrible but I was trying hard to do it well. I was just sucking and had my eyes closed because I was afraid to look at him.
Finally I opened up my eyes and looked up at him feeding me his cock and he had this look on his face of just absolute disgust. He was fucking my mouth, or trying to, and just looking at me like I was a dirty whore. He wasn't saying anything any more and I sure wasn't either. And then he stopped and pulled it out, and he started to tug at it. Just a few strokes and then he blew his load all over my face, just shot after shot all over me.
He got done, and he just looked at me with this awful horrified disgusted expression. Then he hauled his dick back into his pants, turned away and walked out of the room. I was almost paralyzed, even though I had his jizz running down my face. I was panicked and didn't know where he went or what was gonna happen so I finally got myself up. I went and got a towel and wiped up as much as I could. And then I walked down and I took a shower.
The whole time I was incredibly weirded out. Like the first time that something had happened in the bathroom, I was wanting it to happen, but once it did I really had no idea what it meant, or what would happen as a result. And to make it worse, this was with my roommate. I was going to have to see him all the time. Was he going to tell our other friends? I was not a homo, there was no way. I was sick to my stomach and scared to go back to the room, so I showered for a long time.
Finally, I toweled off and wandered back to the room. I walked in and all the lights were off. I could just make out Mark, sleeping - or pretending to be sleeping - in his bed. Relieved I guess that I didn't have to deal with anything right then, I put some boxers on and climbed into my own bed and tried to get to sleep.
The next morning and for a short period of time afterward, things were a little awkward between us, but we never spoke about what happened, which was fine with me. I think we both just kind of pretended that it never happened. I was simultaneously very turned on by what had happened and also repulsed. After a few weeks of ignoring the issue, though, things largely returned to normal between the two of us and we just hung out as usual. At one point about three weeks later, Mark was going to play basketball and he asked me if I wanted to come along and I did. That was about the first time we did anything together, just the two of us, after the incident, and if anything it signaled to me a return to normal.
Early in the semester John and I had swapped beds, since he wasn't sleeping at home very much anyway. His girlfriend had a single room so he stayed over there all the time, and since it was a pain in the ass to climb up to the top bunk I pretty much just made the switch one day and told him after the fact.
Well, about a week after Mark and I played basketball a bunch of the guys went out drinking one night. I had some paper or exam or something I was working on so I couldn't go. I ended up going to bed at some point before anyone got home, taking advantage of having the place to myself to get in a good jack off session before I feel asleep.
At some point in the middle of the night I heard Mark coming in. He must have been pretty drunk because he was stumbling around a bit, like he was trying to be quiet but just wasn't too successful. I was in a deep enough sleep that I really only woke up for a few seconds and then drifted back into sleep. I woke up again a little bit later because I felt something warm against my face. Half asleep, I reached up to wipe whatever it was away, and my hand came into touch with Mark's stiff dick. He had come up to me and was rubbing his hard on against my face, more specifically my mouth, while I was sleeping.
I opened my eyes wider, still not quite sure if I was awake or not, and as I started to focus I could see Mark standing there. He had on just boxers and nothing else, and they were pulled down below his hips. He was rubbing his hard dick and still trying to rub it against my face. I didn't know what was going on, whether this was some kind of trick or just another joke, or what. He was having a hard time standing upright, obviously drunk, and then he spoke.
"Suck it."
That was all he said. And in another split second where figuring right from wrong was the last thing on my mind, I opened my mouth. And he slid it in. Or, at least the head and as much as he could. Once he had it in my mouth a little ways, he started to get more aggressive. He started to grab the back of my head and try to force me to swallow more of it, but I just couldn't. I'm sure I was nailing him with teeth nonstop, but he was just jamming his cock in and it was so big that there wasn't much I could do. And then he started talking dirty. Well not dirty erotically, but dirty and mean. Stuff like "suck it you little pussy bitch.I know you want it faggot" - that kind of thing.
As drunk as he was, he must have been pretty turned on because it was another pretty short episode, less than a couple minutes. That was fine with me because my mouth just couldn't keep up with his thrusting and my jaw was getting sore. He didn't even say anything, just kind of gave one last thrust and once again I tasted that strange taste in my mouth. This time it didn't taste so bad and I kept his dick in my mouth and just started to swallow what I could. I didn't get it all, but most of it.
When he finished shooting, he simply pulled the waistband of his shorts back up and walked over to his bed and climbed in. Didn't say a word. For my part, I didn't really press the issue either. Despite the eroticism that I felt about the incident, I basically just rolled back over and fell back asleep.
Morning came, and again no discussion. But things really weren't that awkward this time around. The last time, we had kind of avoided eye contact or being in the same room or space with each other for a while. Maybe we were sorting each other out or something. I felt dirty in a lot of ways about what happened, but I guess I didn't think about it in a negative way, like that I was being used. I was in fact kind of turned on by the fact that this hot guy had some kind of interest in me. If nothing else, I wanted to let him know that I was ok with it and that I wasn't going to freak out.
If I remember right, that second time it happened was on a Wednesday, because I think it was only a couple days later, Friday, when it happened again. This time I had been out as well but we came home kind of drunk and went to bed. At some point later, probably not very long at all, I woke up to the same thing I had sensed a couple days ago. I opened my eyes, and sure enough, there was Mark standing over me, sticking his cock into my face. I opened my mouth and repeated the same thing from the last time almost exactly. me having a hard time sucking him but him being aggressive and talking dirty to me and then blowing his load into my mouth before climbing back into bed.
Well that seemed to open the floodgates, and for the next few weeks it happened almost every night. Regardless of whether we were drunk or sober, or if we went to bed at the same time or not, I would wake up in the middle of the night with Mark's dick in my face, I would blow him, and that was that. There was little variation. Sometimes I would try to reach down and stroke myself while I blew him, but he didn't like that too much. It was obvious that he was only into getting off and had no interest in anything remotely reciprocal.
I did get better and sucking dick, that was probably the biggest change. And I started to get into it more, instead of just being passive about it I would start to change positions so that I could work more of it into my mouth. I couldn't ever come close to getting the whole thing in, but after a few weeks of daily practice I was getting at least half of it. It started to take a bit longer for him to cum too.
Basically all of this happened in the dark of night. In that respect, it was kind of other-worldly. As if not talking about it or anything during the light of day was going to help pretend that it didn't happen, or that something wasn't going on with me that I wasn't sure I wanted. I was feeling more and more like a fag, and that was scary to me. In the heat of the moment it never mattered and I never hesitated once to suck on his dick, but during the daytime, when I had time to think it over and worry myself, it bugged the hell out of me.
At first, getting a nightly load was enough to keep me from out of the bathroom again. Through spring break or so, I never even ventured there again. Only one other thing happened to me before the spring break and that was in another venue that I had never even considered, but another place where my eyes would be open to what kinds of things went on under my nose, probably every day.
Late in my freshman year and over the summer I had begun to lift weights. I was trying to bulk up my frame a bit. I was a decent athlete, especially at basketball, but I was small enough that I had a hard time holding my ground against the bigger guys. I played several days a week and was good enough to usually get into games on the "A" court at the gym (where the better players played). Lots of the varsity athletes from other sports played here, and most of them were huge and muscular compared to me. Trying to box out or drive against them was tough duty at about 160 pounds.
So I started lifting a few days a week. By the end of the summer between my freshman and sophomore year I had put on a little bit of muscle, but not really that much from an appearance standpoint. My strength was improving pretty rapidly though, and my game improved some as well. I made steady improvements throughout the first semester and was pretty regular about getting to the gym.
During the first semester I would bump into a guy I knew from one of my classes, his name was Mark too, at the gym. We hit it off and before too long, we started to lift together. Mark was shorter than I was and boxier. He had been lifting all through high school and so he was really built, and he knew a lot and helped me along. He was probably about 5'9 and weighed about the same as I did, and had this square jaw that made him look older even though he had a baby face.
We usually went in the late afternoon and it was always pretty mobbed in the weight room when we were there, so there was always time between sets when we were waiting for equipment or something, so we had a lot of time to talk and check out other people who were working out. In the weight room, it was mostly guys, but in the cardio area next to the weights, there were always a lot of girls. That, of course, was part of the banter.checking out the girls. Lots of them were really not too attractive. It wasn't like you would expect at a college gym - hot girls in tight clothes - instead, it was more like girls who were in sweats and who didn't give a shit, trying to lose a few pounds. Once in a while though there would be a hottie and we would make the cursory gawking effort.
Mark really only knew me from class or from the gym; there wasn't really a reason to want to get to know me better, so it wasn't like we hung out beyond the gym. I would see him around once in a while but it's not like we were on the phone every night catching up with each other. He was just a regular guy, and while I remotely was aware that he was attractive, I didn't really think too much of it.
The week before Spring Break was mid-terms, and of course that meant schedules were all fucked up. I don't remember what day it was or anything like that, but I just remember that Mark and I couldn't coordinate our schedules to lift at the same time, so I ended up going myself. My dorm was only a few buildings away from the gym, so typically I just walked over there and didn't worry about showering or anything afterward; I would just go home to do that.
Well, this particular time, I must have had something going on after working out, because I had brought my crap to change into. I played some hoops and then lifted and had to shower. No big deal, really, I just went down to the locker room and grabbed a towel and went to clean off.
The shower room was it's own room, and like the dorms, they were set up as separate stalls. But there were two rows of stalls that faced each other, maybe 5 or 6 stalls in each row. There were curtains to pull across the shower for privacy. I remember that there were a lot of full showers and I wandered down and took the one on the far end.
I remember immediately noticing that the guy across from me only had his curtain closed like « of the way, and I remember because I was thinking that it was strange. I didn't even really look at him, I just got into my stall and dropped my towel and pulled the curtain across. The curtain didn't really pull all the way across and there was a gap between it and the wall of the stall, again not really something that was a big deal. At least then. But after a minute or so of showering, I was turning around or doing something that made me look out through the gap, and I caught the guy across from me looking at me. He looked away quickly.
I supposed it could have just been an awkward moment, but my curiosity got the better of me, and in a few seconds I looked again. Same thing. Now I wasn't too bright or clued in, but it was obvious that this guy was checking me out. So I just looked through the gap back at him, and in a few seconds he was looking at me again. This time, he kind of looked back and forth a couple times, like he was trying to figure out if I was doing the same thing or not, and then he finally settled in and we held each other's gaze. And then he looked down. And so I looked down. He was soaping up his dick that was completely hard.
Boing. That's all it took. It was hard to make out this guy completely because my shower curtain was somewhat in the way and of course we were both drenched from showering, but he was a really skinny kid and almost hairless. He had brown or black hair and pale skin that was so tight you could see every bone in his body. Of course I was checking out his bone more than anything and it was just an average 5 or 6 inch hard dick.
As soon as he saw me checking him out and getting hard, he started to stroke it pretty hard, stopping only to get more soap from the dispense to lube himself up. He motioned for me to open the curtain a bit more, and I did, and then followed suit. I got some soap and lathered up my nuts and cock and started to match him stroke for stroke.
I was paranoid that someone was going to walk by and see me jerking off in the shower, so every time I heard someone coming in or out of the room (there is a door) I would turn away until I knew it was ok to proceed. After a few minutes of this I could see his face begin to tense up and he was obviously about to cum. He leaned up against the stall wall and must have shot his load all over it, although I couldn't really tell because of all the soap and stuff. Nonetheless, the thought of it was enough to bring me over the top and I turned toward the drain and shot my wad toward it. It was fricking hot.
I turned back to him and he simply nodded at me and reached up and closed his shower curtain, and that was the end of it. I was pretty dumbfounded that this happened and it made me wonder who else was showering for reasons beyond cleaning up. I figured I might try to shower a bit more often at the gym to see if I could run into this guy again. Or maybe someone else.
As I write about and remember these episodes now, it probably comes across like I was pretty stable and able to handle most of these situations without much probably. That is actually about opposite of how I felt at the time.
After each of these "gay" things happened, I would be repulsed with myself for letting them happen; and not only that, but for liking and enjoying them and wanting more. A common thought was that I would do something one more time to get it out of my system, and then I would stop. But, like the unspoken contract between Mark and I about things happening only in the dark of night, I was starting to figure out deep down that this wasn't really a phase or experimenting at all. it was who I was. As my hand found my cock for my nightly stroke session, I would be thinking about Mark, or about the guy in the shower, or even other guys who I knew or had seen around. That scared the shit out of me. But that didn't scare me half as much as the thought that someone might find out about me.
Spring Break gave me a bunch of opportunities to outwardly profess my heterosexuality. That year we went to Cancun, and it was a week of outrageous quantities of booze, pot, and sex. the straight kind. Mark, John, me, and three of my other roommates went down together. We all piled into the same room to save money, thinking that there would be nights when some of us wouldn't make it home.
The night we were there, I met a girl. We were in a bar called Carlos and Charlies, just hanging out and getting started drinking. It was pretty early in the night. John and I were hanging out and checking out a blond girl across the bar (among others), just shooting the shit and being stupid. Out of nowhere the blond girl and one of her friends (the obligatory slightly heftier friend) approached us. My first thought was that I was going to have to be entertaining the chunky girl while John worked on the blond. I had always thought of him as a lot more attractive than I was and he had a charisma that seemed to get him girls' attention all the time. I also thought the blond was out of my league.
In just a few minutes, it appeared that I had it figured wrong. Her name was Suzanne, and she was interested in me. Whoa. Before long John wandered off and her friend wandered off and we continued talking. And talking. For hours. We just clicked for whatever reason and hit it off big time. My friends kept on trying to interrupt us and were giving me a lot of shit from behind her back - making gestures and all the typical mature college guy things. She knew it too, but was so cool about it and just waved it off.
Later, my friends left to hit other bars, and I stayed behind. When her friends wanted to leave, though, it caused a bit of a problem. They didn't want to leave her behind because of safety issues. That is a big difference between guys and girls. my friends left with a big thumbs up, and her friends weren't going to leave without her no matter what.
So I ended up going with her friends to another bar for a while. And then finally we decided to get out of there, and headed back to her hotel. She was staying on basically the other end of town from our place, but I didn't care. We ended up on the beach, just sitting and talking and making out, through the whole night. We even fell asleep on and off. The one thing she did tell me at one point when we were making out and I was kind of on top of her and grinding, was that she wasn't going to do that. THAT. Well, that was ok with me and I didn't have a problem with it, so we ended up just pretty much laying there and talking most of the night.
The week progressed pretty much with the two of us spending all of our time together. It was a very different spring break from what I had expected it to be, because we would go out and party (and she was a definite partier!) and have a great time, but I never had to be worried about if I was going to hook up or whatever, like my friends. My friends also gave me a boatload of shit about all the time we were spending together and I think some of them were annoyed by it actually. At the same time, I think that they were pretty jealous that I had this hot girl all over me and they didn't.
Mark, I think, was particularly not happy. He didn't get laid all week, and since I wasn't around at all to be his "bitch," he was probably stuck with his right hand. And, of course he was the worst about laying into about getting laid, constantly asking if I fucked her and all of that. I never did, and again that was fine with me. That kind of freaked me out a little that I wasn't being too aggressive with trying to get laid, but you have to understand that the connection was different with her than it had been with other girls I had been with.
At one point I remember asking her why she had picked me out, from all the guys that were around that night. And she just said, "You looked fun, but you also looked harmless and innocent." Well, she is probably right about that in some ways. I do have a bit of a baby face that people constantly associate with innocence, but all I could think when she said that was if she only knew.
The week flew by, and before we knew it she was heading back to the East coast, and I was heading back to the Midwest. Of course we made plans to "stay together" but the reality of that was pretty unlikely, I knew. Nonetheless, I think that the whole situation only added to the confusion I was going through, regarding whether I liked guys or girls or both or what.
The guys of course thought I was the stud of the trip. They were totally asking about details nonstop and giving me a hard time about everything. I tried to downplay things as much as possible, but in the paranoid state I was in about having people think or suspect anything about me, I pretty much left the door open to having them believe that Suzanne and I had been screwing all week. I never explicitly said that we had, but I certainly didn't deny it either.
And so we got back to campus and it was just a couple months until the end of the school year already. I got back into the regular routine of school, going out, going to the gym with Mark, but not sucking off the other Mark every night. He tried again, but it didn't work the same this time and it caused a rift that lasted the rest of the year.
We got back on a Sunday evening and John immediately went to his girlfriend's, as usual. Even though he had bagged two different girls during the trip, he hadn't seen her in long enough that he had to get some and didn't even unpack before he was out the door.
Our room was basically in the middle of the other two rooms that our friends had, not exactly between them, but close enough. It was also the smallest room, so we all didn't hang out there very often, but there was a lot of traffic between the rooms at times. Mark and I were unpacking our stuff and just joking about and reliving the trip, when he gave me this kind of sinister look and hopped over and flipped the switch on the door.
He turned and started toward me, and was rubbing his crotch through his pants. I was caught of guard, since this was a different approach than I had seen from him before. He started unzipping his fly and said something like, "I've been saving up for you all week since I didn't get any."
He had fished his cock out of his fly by now, and was within a few feet of me. His dick wasn't completely hard but was stiffening fast. My mind immediately flashed to Suzanne and I don't know if it was that, or if it was the new approach that threw me off or what, but this time I took a stand against him. And I was mad.
"What the fuck is your deal, man?" I said, and I got up and pushed him away, hard.
He stumbled back but didn't fall, but he was so used to me just going along with him without speaking or anything that I completely fucked him up just by doing that. He backed off, but he got this look on his face. It was a combination of fear and anger and disgust that I don't think I had seen before.
He started muttering at me, spitting his words out. "You fucking pussy faggot. I know what you want. Don't fucking pretend to me that you fucked that chick." All kinds of shit like that. He just kept on coming with it too and didn't stop. I was floored and all I could feel was this pit in my stomach. This empty sense that someone knew more about me than I knew about myself. I don't know how long I lasted, standing there. I just remember my eyes welling up and trying to cover them up as I pulled myself together and ran out of the room.
In the hallway, I ran into one of my other roommates, Brian, and he looked at me practically bawling and I couldn't stop. He was calling to me "What's wrong" as I sped past him down the hall.
I was scared and paranoid and didn't really know what to think. While it wasn't like he had anything on me. he couldn't exactly tell people that I had been sucking his dick or something, because that would be admitting something about himself. But even though it didn't make too much sense, that is exactly what I was most afraid of. I kept thinking over and over about what I was going to do and imagining the worst scenario, like if I went back to the room and all of the guys would be there waiting to beat the shit out of me or something. I was upset and too afraid to go back.
That episode marked a dramatic change in my relationship with Mark. Where before we had basically ignored what happened at night and just went about being friends as usual during the day, we now avoided each other as much as possible. I started sleeping a lot in the other guys' rooms, "accidentally" falling asleep on the couch watching TV and stuff. Mark avoided me as well, and not in a way that was sheepish or anything; he was bitter and pissed off and it showed a lot of times. He would make remarks under his breath around me. I couldn't tell what was going on behind my back, but several times my other roommates questioned what was going on. It put me in a pretty tough position, trying to explain that nothing was wrong, when they knew in fact that there was.
Despite the fact that he wasn't around very much, John was probably my best friend. He didn't lift with me but we played hoops together a lot and spent more time together with just the two of us than any of the other guys. We had decided that we would live together the next year, no matter what other configuration issues came up among the guys. I was glad about that, because in some ways I was really insecure about my position in the group, especially now with the situation with Mark.
Probably a month or so after Spring Break we had been playing basketball one afternoon. It was finally starting to get warm and we had played outside on some outdoor courts near the dorm. After we got beat (if you lost a game, you lost the court since people were waiting), he wanted to go for a jog, so we took off heading around the campus perimeter.
Almost immediately he started into me in a way that was unusual. He was asking about Suzanne, but more thoughtful questions than the usual. And then he started asking me about Mark and what was going on there. I tried to avoid the typical question as usual, but I really hadn't developed any kind of decent response. After a couple of stops and starts and questions and me avoiding them, John stopped running and motioned for me to stop too. He got a very serious look on his face that told me something was really wrong. I was scared.
"Adam," he said. "Mark told me he woke up one night and you were touching him. He is really freaked out that you might be gay."
I immediately felt blood rush to my cheeks as anger flooded through me. I don't really handle anger very well though and it was only a momentary thing. I couldn't think of what to say; how to respond. It was one of those times when you had to say something without a pause; to do anything else was an admission of guilt. But I froze. The blood settled back down and then drained from my face. I stammered, "I. I.He." and that is all I could get out. Tears were forming now and panic hit me. I did the only thing I could think to do. I ran.
I took off down the path as fast as I could. I was running away. Away from John immediately, but away from everything else at the same time. I was scared to death. In just a few seconds I could hear the footsteps coming behind me as John followed after me. For what, I didn't know and the adrenaline I felt pushed me even farther. I was in good shape, but the sprint I was trying to maintain was beyond my ability, and it wasn't long before I could feel myself slowing down. Still trying to continue as fast as I could, I felt my feet stumbling beneath me, and then I lost control completely and felt myself hitting the ground, rolling along the gravel and into the grass along the side of the path. Seconds later, John was next to me.
"Are you ok?" he asked. I didn't know what he meant. I just laid there, panting.
"No," I said back. And then we sat there in silence. Neither of us knew what to say. I sure didn't. We sat there for a while like that, silent. Every few minutes someone would pass by, but that was the only sound.
Finally, I spoke. "He's lying." I said it straight to his face, looking straight at him and trying to gauge his reaction. I was trying to look through him and in him and see and feel what he was thinking.
He waited a few seconds, trying to figure out how to respond I guess. "Ok," he said. "But when it's time for the truth, you know where to find me."
He got up from the ground and looked at me hard. Serious. And he said something to me in a voice and tone that I had never heard from him before, it was a mix of awareness and apathy and simplicity and not at all what I would have expected him to say. "It doesn't matter."
I can look back now and understand what his tone was, the tone I had a hard time identifying back then. I was prepared for revulsion and for anger and all of those negative responses I had envisioned in my mind, but I hadn't been prepared for hurt. At the same time, I wasn't ready to admit anything to anyone, no matter how they felt about it. Hell, I wasn't even admitting anything to myself. So, as he looked at me and opened up that door for me to step through if I wanted to, I turned my head and looked away. Whatever silent communication was going on between us, I think that he managed to figure out what the deal was with me, and with all the tact that he typically managed in any situation I had ever seen him in, he reached out his hand to pull me up.
"Let's head back," he said.
That was the only time the matter came up for the rest of the year. I became pretty sensitive to what was going on around me and sometimes became paranoid about how the other guys felt or what they might have been told, always kind of fearing the worst. Other than Mark, though, no one really treated me differently.
Mark, on the other hand, kept his distance. He wasn't as hostile as he had been previously, but there was definitely some dis-association going on. It culminated in the last few weeks of the year, as we were figuring out living arrangements for junior year. We were all going to move to an apartment complex next to campus and get away from the dorms. Mark, I learned, made an explicit request to live separately from me. Nobody let on that he had given a reason for that, but I guess since other guys had friends they were closer to among the group, it wasn't as blatant a request as I might have feared. In the end, it was arranged that John and I would stay together in an apartment with Brian and Justin. John and I would share a bedroom.
John actually changed his behavior toward me as well, though his switch was in the opposite direction. He made a lot more effort to be friendly to me and to get me into one-on-one situations. We played basketball together regularly, sometimes we'd go to dinner together without his girlfriend (a big switch), and he started to spend a few nights a week in our room again, which I had to think was for my benefit. He took interest in me almost like a big brother situation. It's obvious now that he knew I was having some problems and issues, that he didn't care about them, and that he wanted to help. The extra effort he made by extending his friendship was something that helped me immensely during those last few weeks of sophomore year. I would find out much later that he had stepped up for me with Mark and basically told him to lay off me, and also to drop the subject with any of the other guys.
The details of what happened and how I remember them and perceive them now are probably pretty random. As much as these stories revolve primarily around John and Mark, I would say that other than John, the other 6 guys I lived with were all about equal in terms of level of friendship. I was around them all constantly in one combination or other, and despite the awkwardness of the issue between Mark and I and the occasional inquiry, most of the time I really flew under the radar.
I was still talking with Suzanne on a regular basis, and the guys were all aware of that and so I guess that helped solidify my straightness to them, or at least would have made them not have any cause to wonder. I was also a very typical college guy. I could beat most of their asses in almost anything athletic, I could talk pussy with the best of them, and I could hold my own with a beer bong as well. That is pretty much the straight trifecta of abilities. So, despite the turmoil that was going on in my mind, and maybe among John and Mark and I, there really wasn't any overt drama taking place with any of the other guys.
To me, that was ideal, and desperately what I wanted: To be one of the guys. Well, I really still was just one of the guys, but that is how I wanted it to stay too.
A few other things happened in that last couple of months of school that are worth noting.
The first is that I started to spend more time outside of the weight room with Mark. We had a French class together and I guess that pretty much prompted it. French was pretty much a cake walk so I never really studied for it much, but once in a while we would have to do projects, and we would try to finagle to work together on them (most of the rest of the class were hardcore French students who tried to kiss ass way too much; Mark and I just kind of coasted).
Somehow, those project work sessions translated into more frequent study sessions. It was always a very natural thing, the time we spent together. We'd go from the gym to get something to eat or to the library. I don't remember exactly when, but I do recall once in a while being a little bit suspicious about why we were hanging out more and more. Part of that suspicion, I suppose, was coming from inside of me as I felt myself growing more and more attracted to Mark. I began noticing things more, beyond what he was lifting at the gym. He was really smart and funny, and always listened to what I had to say. If I had problems I was bitching about, he would offer suggestions on how to solve them. Sometimes when we were at the dining hall together we would finish eating and just sit there talking for an hour afterward.
Thankfully, the time we spent together went largely unnoticed by most of the guys. There was only one time when someone mentioned something and that was one of those nights where we were hanging in the dining hall after dinner. John, Justin, and Brian walked by on their way out and Justin said, "Would you two homos just kiss each other already."
They all started laughing and so did we. John quickly butted in and said, directed at Justin, "Just because you're still a virgin (he was) doesn't mean you should project your fantasies" and gave him a shove. We all laughed louder.
Other than that one instance, I don't think anyone ever suspected anything. Not that there was anything to suspect, in any case, other than in my own dirty mind. Mark was a good guy, but seemed so much more mature to me. I don't know what it was, but I felt a lot like I was looking up to him almost like an older brother. That was becoming a trend too, not just with him but with guys like John or something. I somehow felt young and immature and like I needed guidance. A boy among men.
Another notable difference during the last few months of my sophomore year was that I did start to take advantage of showering at the gym more often. It wasn't as often as I wanted, because whenever I lifted with Mark or went to play basketball or something with other guys, there was no way I was going to suggest showering, that would have been weird.
Once or twice a week, though, I would be there by myself, and I started making a point of changing and showering there. What I discovered at first was that the episode where the young guy was across from jacking off was an exception. I never came across him again, actually, and the first several times that I was there I didn't see anyone else at all, at least anyone jerking off. >From time to time, I did see some cocks on the guys showering but never anything beyond the innocent shower use.
Then one afternoon I had been working out by myself, and made my way down to the locker room afterward. I chose my usual stall, down toward the end where there wasn't much foot traffic going past, and proceeded to shower. A couple minutes into it, I noticed someone entering the shower across from me. I had the shower curtain opened slightly, but not halfway or anything like that other guy had that one time before.
Anyway, I started to discreetly glance out now and then to see what he was up to. At first, I figured there wasn't much going on, but the third or fourth time I glanced over I saw him look away just as I turned my head toward him. Bingo. It took another minute or two of back and forth between us for us to figure out that we were both checking each other out. As soon as that happened, be edged his curtain open a little bit further to give me a better look, and I did the same.
Well, I don't know if the guy recognized me but I sure the hell recognized him. I didn't know his name or anything, but it was a guy I had seen up playing basketball a bunch of times and in the weight room too. He was taller than me, maybe 6'3, and pretty lanky. He had red hair and really white skin. He also had freckles all over and as I looked down, a bright red bush of hair around his cock. His dick looked like it was a little smaller than mine, and it was standing straight out from his body
We basically just spent a few minutes checking each other out, stroking our cocks. After a few minutes I blew my nut onto the floor and assumed he pretty much did himself, and then just cleaned up and left. I waited a few minutes after he left, because I didn't really want to bump into him in the locker room. I was still pretty embarrassed and paranoid about someone seeing me. Finally, I figured he had had enough time to get dressed, so I toweled off and headed out myself.
I saw that guy in the gym a few times after that and another time in the shower. Either he didn't recognize me or he was as paranoid as I was, because he never acknowledged me in any way. I mean, I wasn't exactly running up to him and asking if he remembered me, but I would always kind of look his way. I would have just given him a polite nod or something, but he never even would look directly at me.
A couple other times I noticed guys in the showers, but they were older guys. Professors or something and that was a little weird to me. I wasn't exactly into getting with someone my dad's age, so when that happened I basically just closed the curtain and left.
I avoided the library bathroom during that time as well. I think because that was the most open place, it seemed like the most dangerous. I didn't even want to go to the bathroom there, because I was afraid someone would see me coming out of there and make some kind of assumption.
As finals approach and summer approached, I was looking forward to break more and more. The situation in my room, while not hostile, was pretty awkward, between Mark and I anyway. I was thinking that the summer would be another fun one hanging out with my two girlfriends or something like that.
John lived in North Carolina, and the rest of the guys were spread all over the place. A lot of them were talking about trying to get together over the summer, but I knew I wouldn't really be able to afford it, or take much time off from my summer job. I knew no one would want to come up to bum-fuck Michigan to hang out, either, so I pretty much was resigned to not seeing anyone over the summer.
Toward the end of finals week, though, John mentioned something to me about coming up to visit. His family was pretty well-off and the only summer work he really had to do was at his dad's company. It was some kind of internship but he didn't think he was really even going to have to work that hard. We chose a weekend in July as a tentative time to have him come up and visit, even though I didn't really think it was going to happen.
Mark (from the gym) was the other guy who mentioned trying to get together. He was from California, though, so I knew I wasn't going to be able to make it out there. The discussion stayed pretty casual and we just decided to exchange phone numbers and we would try to figure out something later on. Again, I really didn't expect anything to happen since summer always seems to fly by so fast.
That summer ended up being far different from the previous one. For one, the two roommates I had dated and slept with the year before both had new boyfriends. That had an immediate impact on my fun, and not even just from the sexual standpoint. They were also both a lot of fun to hang out with and liked to have a good time. Also, a lot of my other friends from high school had started to stay at college for the summer, which meant there wasn't a hell of a lot to do in a small town at all.
Two things got me through that summer. First, I discovered the wonders of the internet. Second, I found that one of my friend's little brothers had grown up.
The internet wasn't exactly new then or anything, but we had never had a connection at home before, and all of my access at school or anywhere else for that matter, had been on shared computers in public places. So I hadn't had much time to explore the underbelly - or the things I really wanted to explore. Well my parents had finally gotten a computer with dial-up internet access, so I spent a lot of time checking things out. Once I figured out how to delete the trail of sites that I visited, I was all set to go.
I would do searches for "gay" and "guys" and all kinds of shit, looking for pictures and porn of guys. I didn't really like most of the site thought. I didn't like porno kinds of guys at all, the ones who had all their body hair shaved or had these really ridiculous tans. A lot of them just looked all gay. Most of them had pictures of guys who were really super muscular who totally had to be on steroids, but that just wasn't really a turn on at all. It was like they were over-compensating or something.
Once in a while though I would find a good site with amateur guys, or at least they were shot to make them look amateur. It seemed to me that a lot of these guys were straight too, or at least that they didn't look gay. It was (and still is) such an odd distinction to make, but there is this intangible quality in a guy that I found to be so attractive, and that is just the normalcy factor, that it looked with a regular guy you might see walking down the street. The muscle head guys or the pretty guys who are more the classic "model" types just really didn't have any kind of impact on me. And they still don't really.
It was probably the middle of the summer before I came across something else on the internet that would have a really important impact on me. Chat rooms. I had heard about chat rooms and stuff but I never had AOL, which is where the majority of them were I supposed, and I guess it never clicked to me that chat rooms served all kinds of purposes. Then I stumbled upon a gay chat room during one of my sessions exploring the internet, and my perception changed entirely.
The chat rooms were organized by either geography, or also by category (like gay, bi, college, etc.). I was from a pretty small town and so there certainly wasn't a room for it, but there were a couple larger cities between 50 and 100 miles from me, and these had their own rooms. I was surprised, too, that they had a pretty active contingent of guys.
My first few times in the chat rooms, I basically just chatted and followed along with the conversations. You could put in a profile that described yourself and it would allow you to screen out other guys (or they could screen you) that you might want to talk to in private. Some of the guys had pictures of themselves to send over email, but at that point I didn't. Today, almost everyone had pictures, but at that time, it was less likely.
My naivete about things in general applied to the chat rooms as well, at least at first. I had met one guy on there and chatted with him a couple of times, and he seemed pretty cool. He had the same interests, and was closeted too, and was just a couple years older than I was. He lived about 70 miles away and after a number of times chatting, we arranged to meet up. His name was Jay and I was going to meet him at his apartment when his roommate was gone.
Like I said, I was pretty naive about things and basically accepted his word for who he was and that he was discreet and straight acting and all of those things that were important to me, and that he was good looking. I had gotten a general description of him and as I drove over to meet him, my mind wandered furiously, trying to imagine what he was going to look like and what was going to happen. I was pretty damn excited about it.
So I drove all the way there and I managed to find where he lived. At that point my excitement turned to extreme nervousness. I couldn't imagine how I was going to meet another guy and what we were going to say, and what if he thought I was butt ugly. I think I drove around his block like 10 times, trying to get up the balls to stop and go up to his door. Finally, I was like "fuck it" and I found a spot to park and got out of my car and walked to the apartment.
I got outside of his door and took a deep breath and rang the bell. When the door finally opened, I got my very first lesson in chat room bullshit. The guy was at least 10 years older than me, he had a couple of earrings (very gay, to me), he had this frosted hair, and was generally exactly everything I did NOT want or look for in a guy. Then he gave me this big smile and kind of waved his hands around and was like "Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii..."
I didn't know what to do so I just kind of shook my head "no" and turned and walked away. He didn't really even yell after me or anything and I think he must have pulled that shit before, too. So that was basically an enormous waste of time for me, and I was pissed. Not so much for the time I had spent driving, but for all of the time I had spent chatting with him and wondering about him and that stuff. Once burned, however, I quickly became more astute with guys in the chat room. I didn't meet anyone else for the rest of the summer, in person at least.
I did make one "friend" online that summer. It was in the college room, and it was another college guy from the east coast. He sent a private message to me one day and we chatted on and off and emailed for the rest of the summer (and beyond). His name was Chad, and he was about as confused and fucked up as I was, and maybe even moreso. We had times where we had "cyber sex" a few times, like where we would type about what we were doing or wanted to do and simultaneously jerked off.
That was ok, but it was actually the deeper conversations that we had that were a lot better. We talked all about how afraid we were that we were gay, how we were confused, about my experiences and his experiences, which were both really limited at the time. Neither of us had a picture of ourselves, so we pretty much had to go on general descriptions. All of his stories added up and I just generally got a good feeling about him that he was being honest with me, and slowly I began to rely more and more on our almost daily chatting and emails. It was a huge relief to know that I wasn't the only one who felt the way that I did, and I think that he felt the same way.
One time he accidentally let slip his last name, and he absolutely freaked out that I was going to somehow track him down and do something like out him. He was even more paranoid than I was about that stuff, which I found hard to believe. He was a shortstop on his college baseball team, so he felt he had a lot to lose in that regard.
I remember one thing that turned me on so much thinking about him was that - well, two things: one, was that he said he had a dick that was almost exactly the same size as mine. I don't know why that turned me on so much, but the ones I had seen or experienced had either been bigger or smaller, so something the same size got me excited. More exciting to me, was that he said that he got tons of pre-cum all the time. I never really get any, other than a drop or two if I get really excited so to think about someone getting a lot was really hot to me.
The way he made it sound was like he just got puddles. Like enough to soak through his underwear and pants, in more than one place. Sometimes we would be sitting and chatting and just goofing around talking about sex or whatever, and he would tell me that he was starting to soak through his pants. Man, did that get me going. Just thinking about his cock getting all slimy and wet got me so hard.
And not only did it get me hard, but that is about the first time I started to think about doing something that had been completely un-interesting to me previously. The thought of his wet and slippery dick made me wonder what it would be like to feel it up against - an in - my ass. I would try to avoid thinking about that, because to me that was the ultimate in being gay - being a buttfucker, taking it up the ass, whatever. all of those adolescent taunts were personified by that act. Nonetheless, I have to admit that my nightly (and daily) jackoff sessions started to be consumed by thoughts of Chad sliding his dick into me.
I told him about that a couple times and he seemed to get pretty into it, but that wasn't something he was really into all that much. I think that he seemed to feel ok with it if he would be the one putting it in instead of receiving it. I thought about that to, being the top, but it was the thought of that slick dick that really made me think about trying it the other day.
John and I talked on the phone over the summer a few times as well, but nothing ever materialized in terms of visiting, as I figured. Mostly we talked about the Fall and the new apartment and who was going to bring what to furnish it, and how many parties we were going to have. He had gotten a big screen TV from his parents and was bringing that in a moving truck and we were all planning to pitch in to buy a grill . those were exciting things in those days. Still are, I suppose.
The person I never did hear from over the summer was Mark (from the gym). He never got in touch with me and I never really got around to calling him either. I thought about it from time to time, but never got around to it. I guess I was also paranoid about making the first move.
All in all it was a pretty uneventful summer, though the chat room thing would prove to be a big difference in the coming school years.