The following is essentially a true account from my university days, partly from what I remember and partly from what I remember being told by good friends who are still good friends today.

I moved into our fraternity house my sophomore year, and that was when and where I started to learn that I was not so different from a lot of other "straight" guys. My roommate was a junior named Dave, one of the premier house jocks. He had a build similar to mine -- only better defined: no huge chest or arms, but a torso plated with ripped musculature. His stomach was deeply chiseled, and he had the sturdy legs of a sprinter -- which he was. He had lettered his first two years in both track and football and was a starter this fall. For a phys.ed. major he was a fair student and had a good sense of humor. We got along great right from the start, and being a better student I was more than willing to help with his homework whenever he asked. Dave seldom wore a shirt or shoes in our room, even in the winter, and early on I learned to be at ease in the presence of his male sexiness. The first time I complimented him on his build he obliged me with an extemporaneous muscle show, then made me peel down and flex for him. We would sometimes do gorilla poses for each other, punch, grapple, jab, all the buddy stuff I used to enjoy with kids back home. During evening study hours, whenever he'd look over and smile, I'd get an instant hardon. There were other athletic types in the house with exceptional physiques, but I was convinced that my roommate topped the chart.

Early on I became aware that Dave would never excel in academics, because he lacked the gift of sustained concentration. After maybe an hour and a half at the books he'd pull on a shirt, switch off his desk light and disappear. Since I had never seen him light a cigarette, I knew that this wasn't a smoke break. I'd just go on studying, and later he'd come back into the room, maybe study for a little while, then after hitting the showers he'd undress and retire upstairs to the big dorm. If I asked him where he'd been, he'd say "Just shootin' the shit."

Then one night when he came back from one of his long study breaks I noticed that he had a big rip down the side of his t-shirt. "Christ," I said, "you get into some kind of an argument?" He just grinned, pulled off the mangled "t" and wrapped it around my neck like he was going to choke me with it. When I stood up and resisted we locked up and crash-landed on the couch, only I ended up on the bottom.

"Get off me, asshole," said I, "Phew, you're all sweaty!"

"That's man-smell, punk. The proud aroma of a jungle tiger."

I was really enjoying this, and when he turned and started to stand I threw my own choke-hold on him and pulled him back onto the couch and wrapped my legs firmly around his waist. I was no track star, but my scissors coaxed a loud groan out of him and he wheezed, "I give, asswipe."

"Are you gonna tell me what you've been doing or do you want me to break your neck?" I poked his rib with my free hand. Then we both started to laugh, and when I let go he just relaxed and collapsed back against me. "Tell me!" I demanded. God, I wanted to shove my tongue into his ear, but I suppressed the urge.

"Man," he said, I can't keep studying all fucking night the way you can. After just so much reading I'm all tense and need to go out and blow off some steam."

"Yeah? And what kind of steam blowing makes you so goddamn sweaty? You can't go tracking down pussy this time of night, Studly."

He sat there for a minute, and then squeezed my thigh. "You really want to know?" I locked my mighty arm around his neck again. "Yeah, I'm curious, you stupid jock. Roommates are supposed to share with each other. Aren't you my bro, bro?" He tried a head butt against my neck, and I noticed that even his hair and his shoulders were soaked. "C'mon, tell me.".

"I usually go visit for awhile with Danny."

Danny was the president of our house. One of the perks of that high office was a study room all to himself. Before it was sold to the fraternity, our house was a three-story mansion, and what was now the president's room had been the former master bedroom, complete with a fireplace and an adjoining bath. Danny was a guy born to be the president of a fraternity. He was good looking and outgoing, a varsity athlete, prep school background, money (unlike Dave, whose folks could never have sent him to college without major scholarship help). He wrestled, played tennis and rowed crew, and was in pre-law. Quickly my imagination went into gear, picturing Dave walking into Danny's room. Danny had broad shoulders and was a couple of inches shorter than Dave. Bigger chest and arms, like a gymnast. Round ass. If you were into sculpture, you'd probably hire Danny for your model.

"So you go hang out with our president practically the entire evening while I grind my way through American lit. How did you manage to destroy your shirt?"

"Him and I like to wrestle. That's how we relieve the mutual tension. We're a real even match, see? We get down and tangle and life is all cool again. Man, we fight like we're out to kill one another, and it's the best part of the whole fucking day."

My mind was now swimming in images of these tough animals in combat. It was a humungous turnon. I had to know more.

"You want to borrow my Suzuki again this weekend?" I asked.

"You know I do, buddy old pal. Like you say, roommates are supposed to share."

"Then you've gotta tell me everything about you and Danny's private fight nights. Every minute, every hold, every word. Agreed?"

"You really that interested?"

"I'm really that interested. Since it's getting late, tonight you can just cover how it all got started. Is that agreed?"

Dave turned his head toward me, and I could tell that he was going to enjoy telling about it as much as I was hearing about it. "OK."

His bare back was against my chest, and his legs between mine. I grabbed a pillow and propped it behind my head. Now it was my turn to perspire, as my cock slowly expanded inside my shorts. When the back of his head came to rest on my shoulder, I thought I was going to lose it, but I was determined not to spoil things with such a great story about to begin. I cleared my throat and waited.

"I guess you'd say it began last semester, when some of us were helping Danny wash his car. He and I had pledged the year before, but I couldn't afford to live in the house until then and so we hadn't gotten that well acquainted and had never competed in anything together, which is when you really get to know whether you like a guy.. During hell week they made all the pledges put on a smoker down in the basement (This I knew, because that event happens every year. I was the last member of my pledge class to get pinned, by the biggest guy in the class, a fact of which I have always been proud), but the opponent I drew was Ray Stevens."

"Really? Who won that one?"

"Are you kidding? Stevens thinks he's Hercules, but I had him on his back crying "Uncle" while all the other pairs were still on their feet. He was so pissed off, he wouldn't speak to me for days."

"Sorry for interrupting. You were washing Danny's car."

"Right. We were paying him back for rides. Anyway, when it came time to rinse off the car somebody started getting wild with the hose and we ended up in a big water fight. At one point Danny grabbed the hose out of my hand and jammed it in my shorts. I picked up a sponge full of soapy water and chased him clear across the rear lawn. We went down and I tried to shove it down his ass. Then the other guys pig-piled right on top of us and we switched opponents. Afterwards, when we were going into the house to clean up, Danny threw his arm around me and said how much fun that was and how we needed to get together for another round since we hadn't really finished that one. I told him I was up for it any time, and he slapped me on the butt."

"So, did you and he wrestle that night?"

"Oh, no. I had a part-time job that semester down at the `Y,' and those nights I wouldn't get back to the house much before midnight. Besides, him being on the wrestling team I wasn't sure how much I wanted to risk getting my ass wiped."

I brought my hands up to his shoulders and slowly massaged the muscles of his back and neck. "Dave boy, you know you're one tough stud. Stupid, yes, but craven, never. I can't believe you're afraid of anybody."

"Hell, I wasn't afraid. Just proud, I guess. I don't like to lose at anything. Anyhow, that's how it all began. Do I get the bike Saturday morning?"

"My word is my bond. Just remember, whenever you want to borrow it again, you owe me one more installment." I picked a textbook off the floor and slammed him on the head. "God to bed, Kong."