This story is about male/male relationships and contains graphic descriptions of sex. You should not read this story if it is in any way illegal due to your age or residence.
This is a work of pure fiction. This story is the sole property of its author and may not be copied in whole or in part or posted on any website without the permission of the author.
Questions and commentary can be sent to djakeeba@aol.com
Please consider donating to keep Nifty going. Details at http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html
TRAGEDY ON THE POTOMAC by Steven H. Davis
Chapter 7
The fall semester found me taking a number of fairly easy survey courses at the University to get a head start on my required credits before picking up a few classes for my major in the spring. I managed to get a drama class in there as well, but it didn't feel the same as it did in high school, where theater had also been my primary social outlet. We were all strangers, and no one really made an effort to get to know each other.
I was still confused and unsure about how to make my way into the DC gay community, and frankly somewhat terrified of being out at school. I knew the university had a gay student group, and I even knew where the office was. It was on the 4th floor of the student union, like all the other activities offices, and I walked by it a few times one day at lunch, not pausing but looking inside through hasty sidelong glances as I strode with apparent purpose down the hall.
I had made several cowardly loops around the maze of hallways and offices when I started walking slower each time I passed the door. The Gay Alliance looked remarkably spartan compared to some of the other offices, which were festooned with posters, fliers, stacks of papers and knick-knicks. This one contained only a pair of large, standard-issue desks arranged to face each other and a lone bookcase with only about twenty books.
The pretty blonde girl reading a book at one of the desks must have noticed my repeated fly-bys in the hallway, as she asked if there was anything she could do to help me. I stammered and stuttered for a moment before I managed to get out that I was looking for the Gay Alliance office.
"This is it," she said, pointing to the other desk. "Donny should be back in a little while. You can wait or come back."
I nodded and walked into the office, and I must have looked like I was feeling guilty about being there, but the girl didn't seem to notice and went back to reading her book, which I saw was Marx's Communist Manifesto. Having been raised in right-wing Texas, the thought of being among communists horrified me, so I sat down at the other desk and pretended to look at the walls, which -- being completely bare of anything and painted flat white -- were not much help.
After what seemed like an awkward eternity, a young man of about nineteen came into the office. He had short black hair, wire-framed glasses, and a neatly trimmed mustache-beard combo, which didn't normally appeal to me, but looked adorable on him. He wore pegged jeans, penny-loafers, and what looked like the softest fuzzy sweater ever made. He smiled when he saw me, and my first thought was Aww, he looks like a teddy bear!
"Hi," he said, extending a hand. "I'm Donny."
I stood clumsily, knocking my knee on the desk, but kept a smile on my face and sucked up the pain.
"I'm Rick," I said. "Rick Spivey."
Donny glared at the girl and led me out into the hall, whispering conspiratorially when we were out of her earshot.
"That's Becky," he told me. "We have to share an office with the Progressive Student Union. They're Maoists."
"Maoists?" I really had led a sheltered life.
"Yeah," Donny replied. "Don't worry about them. They usually keep to themselves. You want to go somewhere and talk?"
I looked into his soft grey eyes and nodded my assent. There was something about this boy... he seemed gentle, kind, yet fiercely intelligent. In some ways he seemed much older than nineteen, but in others he seemed as shy and conflicted as Taine. Maybe that was what intrigued me about him, and I followed him across the street to the local bar, a British-style pub called The Red Lion. Inside was all dark wood, red leather and brass studs, dim lighting and neon beer signs above the small bar. We ordered beers and Donny led me upstairs to a small seating area, where we could be alone at one of the few empty tables.
"It gets busy at night," he said apologetically, but I was just fine being alone with him.
We talked for about forty minutes, each slowly sipping our beers. The drinking age in DC at the time was eighteen for beer and wine, twenty-one for liquor, and I had celebrated my eighteenth birthday just a few weeks earlier with Vedzma and Tolya at a restaurant in Georgetown. This, however, was my first real bar since coming of age, and I felt very adult sitting across from this fascinating young man, who blew my mind when he told me that he was considering leaving school to enter a Franciscan monastery.
"You're going to become a monk?" I almost choked on my beer.
"I'm seriously thinking about it," he answered. "Does that bother you?"
"No, no," I assured him. It didn't bother me so much as that I had literally no frame of reference with which to process it.
He explained it to me a little, gave me a brief but detailed history of the Franciscans, and then asked about my background. I gave him a sanitized version of my family history, including the part about how -- as Rex and Tynah had adopted me when my mother went in the army -- she was now technically my sister while I was technically my own uncle. Donny shook his head and whistled.
"I know," I chuckled. "My roots would give Alex Haley a headache."
We finished our beers and, as neither of us had classes until later that evening, Donny took me back to his dorm to show me his room. We weren't in the door five minutes before our arms encircled each others waists -- his sweater was amazingly soft -- and our lips met in a deep, passionate kiss. I had never kissed anyone with facial hair before, unless I counted the brief backseat fumblings with the stubble-rough Mark in the back of Kathy Witcher's car several years before, but Donny's beard was soft and silky, and his lips were like velvet.
We rolled around on his small dormitory bed for awhile, gradually losing clothes, and I was surprised by how tender and romantic Donny was. He even kissed my eyebrows, softly, and gazed into my eyes like a lover. I liked it, but it made me a little confused. I had spent all summer engaged in hot, sweaty fucking with Jason, and this was a level of lovemaking which I hadn't experienced since my freshman year of high school with Taine Maxwell, and here it was from someone whom I had just met.
I tried to return Donny's attentions in kind, but I had walled off that part of myself after Taine, and wasn't sure I ever wanted to have it back. I was focused on sex, and once I had established that Donny would take the submissive role, I consciously made a choice to put the kibosh on his romantic ministrations and take control.
I flipped him over on his back, which was pretty easy considering that I was about half a foot taller and maybe thirty pounds heavier. He gulped in surprise as I gave a low growl from deep in my throat and freed my hard cock, then yanked his Jockey briefs down and off of his slender legs. His penis was hard, but small and delicate like the rest of him, dusted with silky-soft black hair. I didn't really mind, because what I was after was his slim, tight ass.
Donny looked at me with a shy smile, removing his glasses and setting them on the nightstand before retrieving a condom and a jar of something called Elbow Grease from the top drawer. He put the condom on me immediately, not bothering to suck me even a little bit first. I tried to go down on him, but he caught my chin gently with one hand and guided me up for a kiss while he lubed me and himself with the other hand. I briefly wondered if oral sex was against his religion.
"Go slow," he whispered. "I've never done this before."
This was also surprising to me, as I was accustomed to being the inexperienced one in bed, but I also found it a turn-on. I flashed back to Kathy, Jeff and Mark giggling about how they had corrupted me, and I suddenly understood the thrill. Something inside me had changed since that night of my freshman year, when I had felt hurt and offended by those words. My experience with Taine and the ensuing heartbreak had made me just like them, I realized. I had become cold and callous. I didn't want to make slow, gentle love to this sweet virgin. I wanted to fuck his tight hole until he screamed my name.
And that's just what I proceeded to do.
After I had fucked Donny to a screaming orgasm, I roughly moved him onto his knees facing the wall at the head of his bed. I grabbed his hips and thrust into him, hard and fast, fucking his recently-loosened hole while he clenched his pillow with both white-knuckled fists.
"Oh, God," he moaned. "Oh, Rick!"
I liked this feeling of power. I had been weak for so long. Rex, my mother, the kids at school, even Jason had made me feel like a little bitch for most of my life. Even with Taine, I had spent so much time heartbroken, sad, crying and weeping and sniveling like a girl.
Now I felt strong, dominant, assertive, masculine. I was taking out all my frustrations on Donny's small, vulnerable ass and he loved it. He was whimpering, groaning my name as I rammed my big cock deep inside him again and again, and it felt great. I felt powerful and finally in control of another man, instead of always being the one who was controlled.
I tightened my grip on Donny's sweat-sheened hips and began fucking him harder and faster, seeing in my mind all of the people I wanted to be pounding like this. All those studs in the locker room after whom I had lusted while crying myself to sleep. The three bastards who had raped me over that trash can downtown when I was thirteen. Jeff Salzburg with his smug, cruel dominance and subsequent dismissal of my needy adulation. Taine Maxwell, who had made me love him only to rip my heart from my chest. Even Jason, whose perfection had left me weak in the knees, but who always seemed my superior in every way, even when I was fucking him. This was what I should have given them. This was my power.
"Take it, motherfucker," I growled. "You know you want this big cock. Fucking take it!"
I sounded like a bad porn movie, but Donny seemed to be eating it up. I was making him my bitch, I thought cruelly, and he fucking likes it. I would never be weak again. This was what I really was, this was where I was meant to be, and I was going to fuck every tight little ass in this town. They were going to scream my name and they were going to love it.
Donny began to wince and whimper into his pillow as I savagely plowed his ass, my balls drawing tighter as I felt my climax building. I was the master, I was the stud-god, I was fucking Caligula! When I finally erupted, driving my cock into Donny as far as it would go, he screamed. I unloaded jet after jet of hot cum deep inside him, growling and curling in on him to bite his shoulder and the scruff of his neck like a horny junkyard dog.
I finally relaxed, all the tension and sexual rage slowly draining from my muscles. Donny remained tense, his fists still clutching the pillow, his face digging into it, his body trembling. I smiled, nipping at his neck in triumph, until I realized that he wasn't trembling from pleasure. He was crying. I pulled away from him in concern, and my softening cock left his ravaged hole with an audible plop. Then he began to sob.
I felt terrible. I tried to hug him, to console him, but he only cried harder. His face was red, clenched in pain and self-loathing. I recognized the self-loathing because I had been there myself. I had done to him what had been done to me. And he was a virgin. He was so gentle, so trusting, so tender, and I had made his first time as brutal and animalistic as mine had been. I felt like a monster.
What the hell was happening to me?
Thank you for reading Chapter 7. To be continued...
I'm always happy to hear from readers at DJAkeeba@aol.com. You have all been so supportive and encouraging, and I thank you all for your e-mails.
If you're enjoying this story and others on Nifty, please consider making a donation to the site. Details at http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html