CHAPTER 32 — Streak
The rain slowed, and I gently pressed down on the accelerator. The Bronco was quick to respond. Low clouds filled the sky and the weather had turned cooler; cool for the shorts I wore.
I turned the heater on low and made a mental note to remember to tell Daniel I had the heater on in September. And then I thought back to the night before. We had made love for hours. And it wasn’t just because it would be a week before we would be together again; the night had been special. It was special before I told Dan why I wanted him to pierce my ear. I told him about that because the night was special. And then the night became even more special.
He woke me that morning by stroking back my hair, and when I opened my eyes, he was beside me on the pillow. He kissed me when I smiled.
The summer had changed us. Maybe because we no longer took our love for granted, maybe because of the promises we had made, we were more affectionate.
His kiss was long and gentle, and he left his lips close to mine. “You’re beautiful; you know that,” he said, softly.
I moved to him, reaching behind his waist and pulled his belly to mine. “I must be ugly as hell,” I whispered, smiling, “for you to keep saying that… you trying to convince me?”
He nuzzled my neck. “Yeah, you’re ugly as hell.”
“Is that why you’ve sprouted wood?” I asked, grinding my growing erection against him.
He pulled my top leg over his hip and slid his top leg between mine. “You’re ugly, but you’ve got a fine ass,” he said before sucking hard on my neck.
They say a male of eighteen is at the height of his sexual prowess, and I suspect that, due to opportunity and conditioning, Daniel and I had a bit more prowess than most. We made love once more that morning; for the road.
And now as I drove, I remembered the weight of his slender body on mine, the feel of his hips between my legs… and the memory stirred me. It stirred me sexually, but it also stirred my heart. I felt things so much more deeply now; it reminded me of what they say about suffering… how it widens your soul.
Others might not think I suffered much that summer, but I did. And I think Daniel suffered as well. But suffering is relative, and I smiled as the thought of suffering reminded me of Daniel’s complaints about the dorm food we had at lunch before I left.
“It’s not bad,” I told him. “Almost as good as ours.”
Daniel harrumphed. “It’s Sunday dinner. This is as good as it gets.”
“It’d taste better if I was your roommate,” I said.
Daniel nodded. “Do you really have to go back so soon?”
“Don’t tempt me,” I said. “I’ve got tons of homework and I’m not getting any studying done here… for some reason. Besides, remember I promised Linda I’d stop by on the way back?”
“She just wants to show me around,” I said. “And maybe show me off… she doesn’t think I’m ugly as hell.”
“Just wants to show you off, huh?”
“As if I’d be up to doing anything else,” I told him. “You’ve worn me out.”
“We could make love one more time before you head back,” he offered. “It’s going to be a long week.”
“Do you need to?” I asked.
“No,” Daniel said, shaking his head. “You wore me out too. I won’t be horny again till this evening.” He smiled. “Can you come back?”
“Can’t we at least shop for ear studs before you go back?” he asked.
“I don’t have money, I reminded him.”
“No, Daniel. I want to buy your ear stud myself; I want it to be from me. And it’s gotta be a nice one; you’re going to be wearing it.”
Sam came by as I was leaving, and flirted with the two of us. We watched his ass as he walked away, and I knew what Dan was thinking; it was a long time between weekends.
Daniel held up the copy of the dorm room key that we had made for him the night before (so that he could let himself in to my room if he made it to Trinity while I was still in class). He held up the key and winked. “Only five days,” he said. “Not really a whole week.”
The rain picked up again. I looked in the rear-view mirror; damned tempted to turn the Bronco around and head back for just another hour or two with Daniel.
. . . . .
“I’ve seen you before,” the blond girl said with a warm smile as she held the door open for me. “You’re here to see Linda. I’ve seen your picture on her wall.” She led me into the living room of the sorority house. “Wait here. I’ll go get her.”
Two girls sat at the other end of the room, studying. They eyed me over their textbooks. There was a rustling at the doorway and three girls peeked into the room. Then Janet came in past them. “Sean!” she greeted and pulled me into a hug. “How’s my lover, Colin doing?”
I hugged her back. “He’s doing great. He’s made starting quarterback.”
“Tell him I said congratulations,” she said. “And give him this.” She kissed me and reached down to grab my butt.
The girls at the end of the room whispered together and there was laughter from the doorway.
“You kiss almost as good as he does,” she said with a parting pat to my butt before stepping back.
“You kiss almost as good as Linda,” I said with a grin.
There was the sound of footsteps coming rapidly down the stairs, and Linda rushed into the room, throwing herself into my arms. “You made it,” she said softly.
“I promised,” I said.
“Yeah,” she said, leaning back with a smile. “You did.” She hugged me. “Hi, Little Bro,” she whispered.
“Hi, Big Sis.”
. . . . .
We toured her sorority house and met a lot of girls who all began to look alike to me… pretty girls often looked alike to me. Maybe that’s why I liked Linda – because she was different.
After the tour of the house, Linda took me for a tour by car of the Southwest campus and San Marcos, and we talked.
We talked about classes and schools, and then boyfriends (she didn’t have one). “Have you ever pierced an ear?” I asked.
She glanced at me, surprised, thinking I had changed the subject. “No, why?”
“Do you know how to pierce ears?” I asked.
She nodded. “Yeah, I guess. I had mine done by the doctor, if you’ll believe that -- my mom insisted. But a couple of my friends pierced their own ears.”
“How’d they do it?” I asked. “Do you like… stick a needle through it?”
Her brow furrowed as she concentrated on rounding a corner, then she glanced knowingly at me. “You want to pierce your ear?”
“Maybe,” I said. “So how did your friends do it?”
She bit her lip, recalling. “First they rubbed their earlobes with ice to numb them. Then they put a cork behind their earlobe and used a sterilized needle, a big sowing needle, to make the piercing. And finally, they put an earring into the hole right away.” She shrugged. “Maybe somebody back at my sorority house would know. Just don’t ask me to pierce your ear, Lil’ Bro. I don’t handle blood all that well.”
“Actually,” I explained. “Daniel and I have something special in mind…”
I told her about what we wanted to do and tried to explain the promises Daniel and I planned to exchange and how that tied in with piercing each other’s ears.”
Linda sat quietly as rain came down harder and she turned her car back toward the sorority house.
“Does it all seem weird to you?” I asked.
“No,” she said, shaking her head, and she looked at me sadly. Then, as if deciding not to be sad, she smiled, sitting up in her seat. “You really ought to make it a ceremony,” she said. “Maybe have some friends with you… have a party.”
I thought about that. All along, I had only imagined Dan and me, alone, private, taking turns piercing each other’s ear and promising, quietly, our lives. But Linda was a girl, and girls often thought about parties and… weddings.
“I don’t know,” I told her. “I mean, it’s going to be really special when we do it, Linda. Sorta private, you know? Besides, I wouldn’t know who to invite. Nobody would understand.”
Linda shook her head. “I think they would. You need to think about it; you might have friends who’d want to be there for you.” She looked thoughtful. “I wonder if your parents would want to be there.”
“My mom would bring a knife,” I said.
. . . . .
I brought a book up from the Bronco so we could study together while we listened to the cassette of opera music Linda wanted me to hear. “I wouldn’t do this,” I told her, “If you weren’t my big sister.”
“Oh hush!” she said, slipping the cassette into her tape deck. “It’s about time you learned about real music.” She closed the door to the hall. “They don’t like me to play this too loudly,” she explained.
“Oh, great!” I said with a moan. “Torture by opera.”
“You’re going to like it,” she said, reassuringly, then motioned me to sit down. The room she shared with Janet was small, and was crowded with everything from stuffed animals to shoes to books to ruffled bedspreads. And since the chairs were piled with books and clothes, about the only places to sit were the beds. Linda motioned me toward her bed and I sat down on it, scooting back to lean against the headboard. Linda joined me there.
“I told you so,” she said. Then with slightly different intonation, “I told you so.” And then again, “I told you so.”
I laid my book down in my lap and frowned at her. “What are you doing?”
“I’m practicing what I’ll say to you after you listen to the cassette and rave about it.”
The first piece on the tape began with a string introduction. “Maybe I ought to practice, too,” I said. Putting my hands behind my head, I stared up at the ceiling. “I can’t believe I listened to that,” I said. Then changing my inflection, “I can’t believe I listened… ouch!”
She elbowed me. “Hush!”
The first cut was something I recognized from Madame Butterfly, sung by a soprano. The second was a duet, with a strong tenor. Linda twirled the hair behind my ear while I read. “We need another slumber party,” she said. “So I can put your hair in curlers.”
“Yeah, well I remember the last slumber party only too well. My hair is curly enough.”
“I thought you had fun,” she said quietly, running her fingers up into my hair.
I put down the book, and leaned back against the wall, turning to look at her. “I did… but that was then, and this is now.”
She smiled and laying her hand on my chest, she nuzzled in beside my neck.
The duet finished and a tenor began; that same strong tenor. The orchestra and the tenor built steadily to a dramatic crescendo. It was a moving piece; a beautiful piece, a piece to stir passions.
Her hand slid from my chest to my belly.
“You haven’t forgotten that I’m gay, have you?” I asked.
She nodded against my cheek. “I know, Sean. But that didn’t keep me from thinking about you all weekend.” Her hand clutched at my belly. “I haven’t been with a boy since we were together.” She laughed lightly. “I’ve been trying to find another one like you… It’s been an awfully long weekend, thinking about you.”
“Linda,” I said. “I just spent the whole weekend with Daniel.”
She nodded again, and resumed rubbing my belly lightly. “I know. I know it was very romantic for you, too,” she said.
“Yeah,” I agreed.
The same tenor led into a new song. It sounded Italian and dripped with passion.
Her hand slid lower on my belly. I grabbed her by the wrist and sat up. “Linda, stop.”
She took her hand back and sat up beside me, her head down. “I’m sorry, Sean.” She glanced at me. “Girls get horny too, you know. It’s been a long time for me. And the more I thought about you, and about… the beach…” She sighed, and I thought, almost trembled.
I put an arm over her shoulder. I felt sorry for her because I almost suspected that “horniness” could be worse a girl than for a guy; at least for Linda. I had given her more than just sex at the beach, and I wondered if she craved the intimacy and the tenderness just as much as the sex itself. Of course, the sex had been pretty damned good, too. As far as how a guy’s body could go with a girl’s body, we’d done very, very well. And now she was horny and I knew how powerful that need could become. I tried to think what I could do to help. “If you want,” I said, I could hold you and… you know? Maybe stroke and caress you until we’ve taken care of you.”
She leaned her head against mine, but didn’t say anything right away and I thought maybe I’d insulted her. I was about to apologize for being gross when she kissed my cheek. “Could we get naked? Would you hold me close while you did it?”
“Sure,” I agreed. “Of course we could.”
I unbuttoned her blouse as a soprano began a lonely sounding aria with rich orchestration behind it.
She had no bra on, and I caressed her breast. “I still like them,” I whispered, smiling.
She pressed her forehead to my neck and grew quiet while I removed her blouse. I laid her down and unfastened her pants, and she helped me slide them and her panties down together.
“You, too,” she said. “Please? It’ll make it better for me.”
I kissed her forehead and pulled my shirt off, and she ran her fingertips over my bare chest while I unfastened my shorts and pulled them off. We scooted down in the bed and I slid an arm under the back of her head and with the other, pulled her side snug to my belly. Then I held her cradled to me while I stroked her side and her breasts and wrapped a leg over hers.
Kissing her forehead, I progressed in my stroking from breasts to stomach, to breasts, to lower belly. She laid one of her arms over her waist, but with the other, she reached down between us and fondled my flaccid cock.
“Is it OK for me to do this?” she asked.
“You like doing it?”
“Yeah,” she nodded. “It’s… exciting.”
I stroked up and down inside her legs until she moved them apart and her pelvis began to subtly rock, responding to each stroke. Then I slid my hand between her legs to stroke and tickle her labia.
The operatic pieces grew more passionate. I held her quietly and stroked alongside her clitoris as we listened. Linda kept her face buried in my neck and moved her hips under my hand. And I grew hard.
It surprised me that after the weekend I’d just had with Daniel, that Linda could make me hard. But there’s something exciting about the way a guy can play a girl’s body; and the way a girl responds.
She was already damp to begin with, but she grew even moister and began to whimper. I cradled her more tightly and she started to writhe under my hand.
The strong tenor was pouring his heart into Me Vida with the orchestra at a crescendo when Linda clutched my cock with one hand and grabbed my wrist tightly with her other, whimpering, gasping.
Her orgasm lasted a long while; much longer than my longest. It ended with the fading of the song on the cassette, and I smiled to myself, thinking that it felt like a scene from The Godfather. “Maybe I do like opera,” I whispered. “At least some opera. You could seduce someone with that stuff.”
She smiled and snuggled into me. “I told you so,” she whispered.
. . . . .
I wasn’t in the best mood as I walked down the hall to my room. I still had a lot of studying to do and it was getting damn late.
“Hey, Streaker!” Ferg said.
I frowned at him and closed the door behind me.
Eric looked up from his bed where he was reading. “Hey, Sean.”
“How come Ferg called me Streaker?” I asked. “Did you say anything? Did somebody see us the other night?”
Eric shook his head. “Nah. They just think it took us a while to get back inside so they’ve been kidding that we were out streaking.” He smiled. “Wouldn’t they be surprised?”
“So are they calling you Streaker too?”
“They tried. I let them know that ain’t gonna work.”
I plopped into the chair at my desk.
“You OK?” Eric asked.
“I’m just tired,” I said.
“Oh, by the way,” Eric said, his brow furrowing. “You friend Linda – the one who’s phoned before -- called and said to tell you she just wanted to thank you again for this afternoon.”
“Cool,” I said, turning toward the desk.
“OK,” he said, sitting up. “You better tell me who Linda is.”
I shrugged. “She’s my girl friend of course.”
“You have a girlfriend?” Eric asked surprised.
“I have a girl… friend,” I said. “Remember? I’m gay.”
He frowned. “She sounded like more than a girl… friend. She sounded like a girlfriend. She sounded like you had sex.” He cocked an eyebrow. “She said you were terrific.”
I shrugged. “A gentleman never tells.”
. . . . .
On Monday, I received my first letter from Ryan. He talked about his school and classes and how much he missed me. Then he wrote… “I think my roommate is into the same things we are – you know, aquariums. He seems interested in my aquarium. And there are other guys here that seem interested in aquariums, too. You know – aquariums like you and Daniel and me are into. Oh, and there are some girls interested in aquariums, too -- Interesting, huh?”
I laughed out loud. His code was so transparent. Well, I’d always heard about boarding school. Sounded like Ry’s could be… interesting. And then I felt a pang of jealousy, especially since I missed the little guy.
. . . . .
By Tuesday morning, most of the guys in the dorm were calling me “Streaker.”
Ken walked with me from honors physics to the pool that afternoon. “Why are they calling you Streaker?” he asked.
I shrugged. “My roommate and I got locked out of the dorm in our underwear the other night.”
Ken grinned. He wasn’t normally a smiler, but he had begun to smile around me.
“Yeah, laugh,” I said. “I’ll come up with a good nickname for you.”
“Streaker’s not bad,” he said. “It’s sorta cool. And it’s not like you don’t have something to show off.”
I glanced at him but he looked away. He looked like he blushed.
. . . . .
On Tuesday night, the phone rang and Eric handed it to me. “For you,” he said.
“Hello,” I answered.
“Hey, Sullivan. I’ve been thinking a lot about you.”
“Aaron! Hey man, how are you? How’s Jorge?”
“I’m fine. He’s fine. We spent last weekend at the ranch and wished you were there.”
Cradling the phone to my ear, I nodded. “I would have liked that. I miss you guys.”
“So when are you coming home?”
“I don’t know. Maybe not till Thanksgiving.”
“Oh, shit. That’s a long time. Maybe I’ll come up there sometime,” Aaron offered.
“That’d be great,” I said, thinking that it wouldn’t. Not with the way things were between Dan and me now. I could only imagine what he’d think of Aaron coming up to see me. And what if Eric was around? I knew Aaron would have no intention of sleeping on the floor; not alone.
“Yeah,” Aaron continued. “Maybe I can come up for a Trinity game. Can you put me up?”
“We can probably come up with something,” I said and then had another thought. “Maybe you could come up for a Texas game and we could both go up to stay with Daniel. Maybe Jorge could come.” Talk about a rescue… at least it wasn’t like the four of us had never been together. Still, it occurred to me that Daniel wouldn’t like it; not after the last couple of weekends we’d had. He knew the effect that Aaron had on me. Shit, I wasn’t even sure I liked the idea.
There was a pause while Aaron considered it. “Sullivan,” he said. “I want to see you, like maybe just you. Jorge understands that there’s something special between you and me. Reese should understand, too. You and me, Sullivan… you know what I mean.”
My cock throbbed to life, and I had to remind myself that it didn’t necessarily mean anything; it was Tuesday and I was just horny.
“Yeah, well,” I said. “Daniel and I have been really, really close lately, Aaron.”
“We’re close, you and me, Sean. I miss you like hell.”
My cock throbbed again.
“So,” I asked, trying to change the direction of the conversation. “You do any girls lately?”
Eric shifted and I could tell he was listening, maybe in spite of himself.
“Not yet,” Aaron said. “I’ve been thinking about it. I still like girls, Sullivan… and we’re still going to do one together… after we’ve been alone and I’ve had your naked body in my arms again… after we’ve fucked a whole night through.”
My cock throbbed and I crossed my legs to hide its outline from Eric.
When I hung up the phone, Eric waved dismissively. “I don’t even want to know!”
By Wednesday, my nickname had been shortened to “Streak” which I figured people thought was humorous because with my cane, I hardly streaked anywhere.
“We still need revenge,” I reminded Eric at lunch.
“Got it covered,” he said. Then he winked. “Tonight.”
. . . . .
Tom Edelstein was one of the most popular professors on campus, especially with coeds. He was youthful and had rugged good looks and thick brown hair. His dark eyes and wide mouth wore a permanently amused expression. And he was a good author.
I met Tom when the school was recruiting me, and the promise had been made that I would have some one-on-one time with him to work on my writing. When I found out that he taught Honor’s Lit and Comp, and that I had been placed in his class, I was both pleased and disappointed; pleased to have him as an instructor and disappointed that my one-on-one was going to be through a class. At least the class was small; sixteen students.
It was a Monday-Wednesday-Friday class, and that Wednesday afternoon, he kept me after class long enough to give me directions to his home. “Be there at six-thirty and you can eat supper with us. My girlfriend, Sarah, isn’t a great cook, but the food will be better than what you’re getting in the dorm.”
His house was within walking distance of the campus. It was one of the small, bungalow-style homes from the nineteen-twenties and thirties that lay sandwiched between the large, fancy homes of Monte Vista and Olmos Park. Recently, the neighborhood had become popular with renovators and Tom’s home had an intimate charm, especially since it was richly landscaped with South Texas exotics.
Sarah was more than I expected. By girlfriend, I thought Tom had meant some coed floozy he kept in the backroom. Instead, Sarah was older than Tom; I guessed, five to ten years. She had that starved slenderness that some women have, that if handled well, translated to gracefulness. Sarah was graceful. And she was attractive in a handsome sort of way. I liked that her hair was almost the same blond coloring as Daniel’s. What I didn’t like was that in some faint way, she reminded me of my mom. That is, until she smiled. Her smile was an honest, ready-to-be-friends smile. Looking into her eyes, I decided that she could be even smarter than Tom.
At supper, they asked all sorts of questions about me, my family, my interests. I talked about Daniel, but held off telling them I was gay.
After supper, Tom led me to a backroom that served as his study. Through the windows, I could see that the back yard was lush with plants and garden features. It looked inviting.
Tom noticed my interest. “She’s got a green thumb, doesn’t she?” he asked.
I nodded. “I like plants. You’ve got a great yard.”
“Yeah, well,” he said, motioning me into one of two leather armchairs arranged in front of his desk. He sat on the desk. “Outside is Sarah’s. In here, is mine.”
The room was a man’s room with dark wood walls and flooring, wildlife prints on the walls, a bronze of geese in flight on the corner of his desk, and an Indian weave area rug under the overstuffed armchairs. But it was also a scholar’s room, with full bookcases spaced along each wall.
“You like Scotch?” he asked.
“I had it once,” I said. “I liked it.”
“Ah, right on cue,” he said, looking past me to the door where Sarah stood, holding an ice bucket. He rose to take it and kissed her on the cheek. “She did this for you, Sean. I drink my scotch straight most of the time, and you’ll learn to as well. That’s part of the course. But tonight, on the rocks.”
“Thanks,” I said, standing up.
Sarah waved me back into my seat. “See, Tom. He stands for a lady. He should be teaching you.”
He frowned at me, but spoke to her. “Be gone woman. Remember your place.”
“And you behave,” she said. “Or you’ll be sleeping on the couch again.” She winked at me as she left.
He sighed apologetically. “How was I to know? Blonds are supposed to be airheads,” he said, retrieving a bottle of Chevis from built-in cabinets under a window between two bookcases. “Stick to airheads, Sean. Smart women are nothing but trouble. They make you work hard for sex. But of course,” he said, pouring two glasses… He held a crystal tumbler up to the light, studying its thin, golden clarity. He held it under his nose, savoring the lean, strong bouquet. “Sex with a real woman is like drinking a fine scotch compared to guzzling beer.” He handed me a glass.
I thought of Linda, and felt like I could nod my agreement to that one. So I did. But at the same time, I wondered if any guy was like a cheap beer; I’d never had sex with a dumb guy. And yet, Daniel was different from all other guys. He was my scotch. I lifted the tumbler and took a whiff; strong, clean, almost erotic. I took a sip. I’d enjoyed the scotch that I’d shared with Scott, but this was better, way better.
“You like it?” Tom asked.
Tom eyed me, skeptically. “Sure... Just Sure?” He shook his head. “You need to have strong opinions, Mr. Sullivan. Authors are gods; at least they have to believe they are.”
“Alright,” I said, and swirling the liquid in the glass, I thought of Daniel. “A sip of scotch is… warm breath… velvet skin… a memory.”
Tom smiled. “Better,” he said, opening a small, wooden box on top of the desk. From it, he took a cigar. “Do you mind? Because if you do, you can go outside.”
I smiled. “Another part of the course? Just don’t expect me to smoke one. I’m a runner. I don’t smoke.”
He clipped off the end of the cigar, lit it, set an ashtray at the edge of the desk, and then sat down in the other armchair, his drink in one hand and the cigar in the other. He took a slow sip. “First the good news,” he said. “You don’t have to attend your Lit and Comp class anymore unless you want to, which you probably do since I am such an extraordinary instructor.” He smiled.
“Now the other good news,” Tom continued. “Now that I’ve seen a bit of your work, I think we can do just as well, one on one. So instead of the class, you’ll come here on Wednesday nights.” He took a drag on his cigar, studying me through the smoke; and then he continued. “There will be reading assignments – I have a list of books for you to buy, and read – and writing assignments, of course. In fact, I want a short story from you by next week. And don’t pull out something you’ve already done. Give me something new. Oh, and one other thing; you’ll be doing some editing and research for me. The school will give you a stipend for it. And I’ll give you scotch and suppers on Wednesday when you’re early enough. Sound OK?” he asked.
Stipend? I thought about having enough money to get Daniel’s ear stud. “How much of a stipend?”
“I’m sorry,” I said, quickly. “It all sounds good; it’s just that I’m sorta broke right now.”
Tom nodded. “I’ll see how much I can get.”
. . . . .
I heard Eric’s alarm go off, but I didn’t get up until he shook me. “This better be worth it,” I grumbled.
“You haven’t come up with anything better,” Eric replied.
I glanced at the clock; 2:30 AM.
Eric pulled out several rolls of pennies. “OK, this is how it works. You do the pennies,” he said, handing the rolls to me. “I push the top of the door and you jam as many pennies as you can above the dead bolt.”
“Are you sure this’ll work?” I asked.
“Yeah, I told you… with metal doors like these, it works great. If you jam enough pennies in, they can’t get the door open. It wedges the dead bolt.”
“If they’ve locked the door,” I said.
“Everyone locks their door. They don’t want queers sneaking in on them in the night and feeling them up.”
“Funny, Eric… Real funny.”
We worked quickly, Eric using his great strength to forced to top of the door far enough for me to quickly shove in pennies. We moved down both sides of the hall and were back in our room before 3:00 AM. “Don’t you think it’s going to be a little suspicious when we’re the only ones without our door jammed?” I asked.
“How will they know? We’ll be gone.”
“Yeah, right,” I said, crawling back into bed. “You know this is like declaring war on the whole floor.”
“Yeah,” he said, turning off the light beside his bed. “And we’re winning.”
When I left for breakfast, I heard loud pounding on a door down the hall.
. . . . .
At lunch, I saw Ken in the cafeteria and joined him. “Mind if I hang out over here? I’m sorta hiding out.”
“Oh?” he asked.
“Yeah, my roommate and I are having a war with the rest of our floor. They locked us outside in our underwear the other night and last night, we jammed all their doors shut.”
Ken laughed, knowingly. “Sure, Streak, you can hide out here with me, and after we eat, you can camp out with me in my dorm room until class.”
Just then, Ferg and another lineman walked past our table. “Think you’re funny, huh, Streak?” Ferg said. “What goes around, comes around.”
Ken watched them as the walked away. “Geez, Streak, you’ve got big fuckin’ floor-mates.”
“Tell me about it,” I said, with a groan. “They put me on a floor with all football players. And to make it worse, I have a roommate who knows no fear; he’s going to get me killed.”
Ken’s was one of the dorms with balcony/ramps that ran the length of each floor. Dorm ramps were popular for hanging out, and Ken’s roommate was sitting outside their room, talking to two girls.
In the room, Ken stripped off his pants, replacing them with shorts. “We’ve got over an hour,” he said. “I study better if I’m comfortable.”
I watched him change, but without looking like I was watching. Of course I’d seen him in the shower and wearing only speedos. But I still liked watching and I always liked watching guys in their underwear; especially guys who looked like Ken.
It wasn’t like I was looking for guys to have sex with; not with the way things were going for Daniel and me. But you still always look; guys always like to look. And I was still curious as to whether Ken might be gay. That was the problem with not being out. It would be so much easier to know about Ken if he knew about me. But then if he wasn’t gay, would we still be friends?
Ken and I reclined in opposite directions on his bed and as we settled in, each with a book, he casually rested the side of his leg against the side of mine. I didn’t pull away. It was certainly the kind of thing two buddies our age might do; lean against each other. But before long, it seemed to me that the pouch of his shorts looked fuller than normal.
But if he was gay, he wasn’t any more out about it than I was. I tried to think of a way to find out for sure, and if he was… I wondered if Dan would like a rescue. I thought I might. After all, a guy is a guy. And Ken was a lot cooler than Sam.
. . . . .
As usual, Ken was still in the shower when I got there. “Hurry up Streak. All the divers are skipping supper at the dorms tonight. We know where there’s a DQ and we’re going for malts.”
“But I’m not a diver,” I said, soaping up.
“Didn’t we tell you? You’ve been adopted. We all agreed; you’re our official mascot. Besides, isn’t that your 78 Bronco I’ve seen around? We reckon we can all fit in that. You’re taking us.”
“It doesn’t have a back seat,” I pointed out.
“All the better,” Ken said. “Everybody can fit in easier.”
They were all waiting for us outside. “Hey Streak,” one of the girls called out. “Did Ken tell you? You’re the diving team mascot now.”
As we joined them, I got several backslaps. “Yeah, mascot and driver,” one of the guys said. “Where’s the Bronco?”
I nodded off toward that lower parking lot. “That way.”
“We ought to name it,” another of the girls said. “Like… call it the Dive Wagon, or something.”
“Call it the tuck wagon,” I said, referring to the balled up position divers took in most rotating dives. “Because you’ll all have to get into full tucks to fit into it.”
“Did he call it the fuck wagon?” one of the guys asked.
I felt the back of my neck go red as a cacophony of “fuck truck” hoots and howls accompanied more slaps to my back.
At the Bronco, Ken took the passenger seat. It was sort of understood that he would have the honored seat of the best friend.
Ken was the only diver I had spent time with. But I had chatted with all of them, especially with the guys in the locker room. I knew a little about diving, but they were all glad to teach me more, delighted to have someone else interested in their sport. And we did workout in the same pool at the same time. So it was sort of natural that they included me on the team unofficially. And by the time we headed back to our dorms that evening, I felt like I had a whole set of new friends, girls included. They liked me. And I liked them.
Though I never had trouble being friendly, all my life I tended to make and stick to a few close friends. Daniel on the other hand, tended to make a lot of casual friends. But once Dan and I had gotten together, we almost became loners. We didn’t do much with anyone else, well other than an occasional rescue. And that was still true. When we were together, we just stayed… us.
So in a way, it was nice to suddenly have so many new friends, especially Ken and Eric. Even Tom could be a friend. And I thought I’d like that quite a lot. As I walked back to the dorm, I wondered what would happen to all those friendships if they knew I was gay.
I reminded myself, I’d always have Daniel, and he was the only one I really needed. But then I thought what my dad would say; he’d probably say it was just as well that Daniel and I weren’t at the same school right now because I wouldn’t have made these friendships at all. I’d just hang out with Daniel.
. . . . .
“Hey, Streak,” Ferg called as I hurried to my room. “Better watch your back.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked, innocently.
When I opened the door, Eric glanced up from his algebra book and a paper half-full of formulas. “'About time you got back. I need your help.”
I set down my books. “First, are guys pissed about their doors being wedged?”
He grinned. “Oh, yeah.”
“And I guess they know it was us, huh?”
“Well, for some reason they didn’t believe me when I told them we didn’t know anything about it.” And then he laughed.
Eric was still studying when I fell asleep that night. I thought about the leg contact with Ken earlier that day in his dorm room. And then I thought about the easy way he had thrown his arm over my shoulder at DQ, and how he sat beside me the whole time. And once again, I wondered whether he was gay. And the wondering made me horny. But it was Thursday night and Daniel and I never jerked off on Thursday nights. We wanted to be ready for each other Friday evening; not that I’d try jerking off under the sheet while Eric was still up anyway.
It was much later… the room was dark and Eric was in his bed. At first, I thought I was dreaming because I knew it was Daniel. He crawled in naked behind me; his skin hot, his cock hard against my butt. I knew it was him; I knew his smell, I knew his body.
I rolled back toward him, and when I was on my back, he moved over me, pressing his hardness against the front of my briefs, working his legs in between mine. I pulled his head down so his ear was at my mouth. “What the hell are you doing?” I whispered as quietly as I could.
He put his mouth to my ear. “I couldn’t wait any longer; I decided to come early.” He nibbled my ear. “I used my key.”
And then he opened his mouth over mine and settled onto me, his erection arousing my own.
The kiss grew instantly passionate, and suddenly, I couldn’t get my underwear off fast enough. While he held my face in his hands and kissed me hard, I struggled to push down my briefs and kick them off. And when they were off, I grabbed his butt in both hands and wrapped my legs over the back of his.
We kissed and ground together, slowly, as quietly as we could. But being slow and quiet was difficult -- our bodies were hot and Daniel’s mouth was demanding. When he paused for breath, he whispered in my ear, “You’re pulling my butt apart.”
I let his butt go and grabbed the sides of his face instead, kissing over his eyes, his cheeks, and his lips.
He pushed up on his hands, pumping his cock against mine in grinding thrusts, and I held him by his biceps. And for several thrusts, we simply pressed cocks and balls and savored the feel. In the dim light, I caught his eyes. He smiled. And then he fell onto me, and grabbing under the back of my shoulders for leverage, he ground harder. I ground up to meet him.
His thrusts grew hard and forceful, and I knew he was close to climaxing. And then he gasped and quickly put his mouth over mine to stifle his whimpers as his hips ground down between my legs and I felt his semen pulse onto my belly. I didn’t want him coming without me. I pressed up with my pelvis so his rubbing was right where I needed it. And grabbing the hair on either side of his head, I kissed him fiercely as I came.
We relaxed slowly. He brushed his lips over mine, and then kissed my cheek while I stroked his back with my fingertips. He nuzzled into my neck, and I wrapped my arms over his shoulders, rocking him in my arms.
“I can’t believe you came,” I whispered.
“For you, Seany,” he whispered.
Eric stirred in his bed, and Daniel quickly slid off to my side. I rolled up facing Eric to screen him from seeing Dan, pulled the covers higher, and we held our breath.
“He’s damn big,” Daniel whispered.
Eric stirred and turned on the light beside his bed. He looked at me groggily. Then he sat up and squinted trying to see past me.
I smiled. “Daniel came a little early,” I said, “so he could meet you before you left.”
Daniel waved from behind me. “Hi.”
Eric frowned. “You are not going to do any of that shit in here, not while I’m around!”
“What shit?” I asked. “He needs to sleep somewhere.”
“You know what shit,” Eric growled. “He can sleep on the floor.”
Under the covers, Daniel held my hip and pressed the tip of his still-hard cock into my crack. I had to fight a smile.
“Come on, Eric,” I said. “The floor is damned uncomfortable without some kind of bedding.. It’s just a couple of hours till we have to get up. Let him sleep with me until then.”
“Yeah, well now I’m not so sure about letting you use my bed while I’m gone.”
“We won’t cream the sheets if that’s what you mean,” I said, beginning to get just a little pissed.
“Fuck you, Sullivan. Go to sleep.” He turned out the light and rolled over. “And no shit.”
“No shit,” I agreed.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Daniel said lightly, as holding me by my hip, he slid his cock, still slick with cum, deeper between my butt cheeks.
“Just don’t!” Eric ordered.
Daniel and I held our breath as Daniel’s cock entered and slowly filled me. When he was all the way in, he pressed his body to the back of mine, slid one arm under and around my waist, and reached over with his other hand to hold my erection. He kissed behind my neck and we moved very slowly.
Straight guys certainly wouldn’t understand, but I liked being held by Daniel that way; I liked him inside me. I liked us joined that way. It always felt damned good, inside and out. And deeply satisfying. I sighed quietly, molding my body back against his, thinking that as long as Daniel and I could be like this, I didn’t need any other friends.
We moved slowly and quietly until Eric’s breathing became regular and we knew he was asleep.
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