by Todd Gregory
“Of course I miss the sex! Don’t you miss it, Jordy, when Dante’s back in California?”
Jordy clears our empty plates and carries them to the sink before answering. He brings back another can of LaCroix for me and another small bottle of Pellegrino for Dylan and sets them down before he starts rolling a joint. “I do miss Dante. I miss sleeping in his arms, I miss the feel of him in the bed with me at night, I miss having a warm body next to mine,” he says, not looking up from what he’s doing, “and I do miss the sex. I miss laughing with him and seeing his smile and being able to know he loves me just by looking at him. When I look at him sometimes I feel complete. I know that sounds sappy, Brandon, sorry, but it’s true, that’s how I feel. But it’s different. We’re only separated for weeks at a time now, and then he’s going to be here for the rest of the summer. But when I’m at Oxford…” He licks the joint and lights it, taking a big drag. He waits, smiling at us as he holds the smoke in before expelling it and coughing. “I may need physical satisfaction. Jacking off can only hold you so far. I will probably give in to it sometime. Dante probably will, too. But I love him, and he loves me. So it won’t be the end of the world. It’s about separation, not about not loving each other anymore.”
“I disagree.” Dylan takes the joint from him and takes a hit.
Because of course you do, you arrogant shit, I think.
I take the joint from him as he says, “If you really love someone, you won’t have sex with someone else. You can’t.”
“You mean you can’t.” I take a hit and feel so much better. I should have gotten stoned when I woke up. “But you don’t speak for everyone else. You can’t.”
He looks me right in the eyes. “Okay, you’re right. But I am not going to have sex with anyone other than Marc, and Marc will only have sex with me. For the rest of our lives.”
And in that moment, I know I am going to fuck him.
I am going to fuck him, and he is going to like it.
He’s going to beg me to fuck him and his heterosexist bullshit.
“That’s so nice,” I say aloud. “I really do envy you, Dylan.”
PHIL If there’s anything more sickening than watching two virgins fall for each other I don’t know what it would be.
Kenny is such a timid little mouse I’m surprised he even had the nerve to take up my suggestion that he mentor Ricky. Ricky at least has the religious excuse, you know? But Kenny?
I would have fucked Ricky senseless that very night.
But Kenny is perfect for this. Ricky’s religious mania will preclude him from just being seduced or having a one-night stand. I could tell when I met him he’s one of those pitiful “I have to be in love” queens. Kenny’s one of them, too.
I wish I could somehow figure out how to record them the first time they do it. It would be a laugh, fumbling around with each other and not knowing where anything goes or how to do anything and probably shooting their loads early without any penetration. Neither one of them would have the slightest idea how to give head.
Damn you, Brandon.
But Ricky might have been able to resist letting Brandon teach him the ins and outs of fucking, probably say a Hail Mary or something and cross himself. Falling in love with Kenny, though? That’s perfect. And my hands are clean.
Once he and Kenny have done it, though, then we can work on getting him truly corrupted.
I’m sure Brandon will be interested once that happens.
Ricky doesn’t know how lucky he is.
I’m still grateful to the man who taught me how to suck cock, how to get fucked, how to fuck someone properly. We all need a teacher, right? It’s not like anyone is born knowing how to have sex the right way. The ancient Greeks had it right: pair up an older guy with a younger one so he can be mentored and learned.
I’ll always be grateful to Coach Mueller.
He was my wrestling coach in high school, and I wanted him almost from the moment I first laid eyes on him.
I wasn’t the first kid he seduced, and probably not the last, either. But I never for one moment assumed he was in love with me—even though he kept telling me he was—because he had a wife and kids and I wasn’t stupid. What kind of life was possible for Coach and me? He wasn’t going to leave his wife to live with a fourteen-year-old. I just wanted to get off, and learn how to get other guys off, and I needed someone to practice with. Watching porn online wasn’t enough. Sure, it helped when my dick was hard and my balls ached and I needed relief, and watching it helped me understand some things, but I needed practice on a real human.
I looked young for my age, so going to a gay bar or meeting someone online wasn’t going to work. I didn’t want to find some pedophile online and then have my body be found weeks later in the woods.
No, I needed a man with a lot to lose and someone I had easy access to.
Coach Mueller fit the bill.
I didn’t go out for wrestling because of Coach Mueller. I went out for wrestling because I wanted to be able to touch other boys’ bodies without getting gay-bashed or called a fag or anything. I liked that it was an individual sport, too. I hate that whole team mentality bullshit I had to put up with in Little League. Fuck that shit. And everyone got boners during practice, so it wasn’t like me getting one was a big deal. It was just part of the sport, no one thought anything about it as long as you didn’t blow your load in your singlet.
I worried a couple of times I was going to, but so much concentration is needed, and you need to focus every part of your body, so getting off isn’t exactly something that’s going to really happen anyway. The two times it almost happened for me were when I was practicing with Darnell White, a senior, whose skin felt like velvet and his body was amazing and his ass was so tight and round and hard and I was so attracted to him I would have sucked his huge dick in the shower in front of everyone if he’d let me.
I still dream about how big his dick was.
My guess is Ricky is one of those guys who go from virgin to whore in five minutes. Once he gets off he’s going to be insatiable.
And he’s in the right place for it. The nice thing about fraternities is even the straight boys will do shit as long as they have the “I was drunk, I don’t remember” cop-out opportunity later.
Kenny, though. Christ, he always looks like a scared rabbit. He’s wandering around all the time with this dreamy look on his face and a half-smile—whenever he isn’t spending every waking moment with Ricky.
How do I know they haven’t fucked? I asked Kenny, who tells me everything. There’s no such thing as oversharing with him. I smile and listen.
Kenny…like I said, timid. He’s living in a fraternity house with at least ten other openly gay guys and he’s still not popped his cherry yet. Because he’s afraid to approach anyone. Because he’s afraid someone will say no. He’s told me so. I have even considered fucking him and getting it over with, but it’s been kind of fun watching him. He tries so hard not to look at other guys in the showers. Nobody cares. Go ahead and look, dude, but he’s so afraid someone is going to punch him in the mouth or something for sneaking a peak.
Um, even the straight boys look, dumbass.
He’s a cute guy, but man am I glad I didn’t go to whatever homophobic hellhole his high school must have been to scare him off sex so much. I spotted him when he went through rush, stammering and blushing and scared to death. I was rush chairman with my eye on the prize—presidency—in the election at the end of that semester. He was nervous and scared and shy, and I knew why. I knew why he was rushing Beta Kappa.
Scared little gay boy.
So I singled him out for attention, talked to him, talked to everyone, introduced him to everybody, got him to bid. I wasn’t his big brother—I told him he was better off getting someone he didn’t know as well, but I was still going to look out for him anyway—and I did. He was going to quit any number of times—the pledge semester is designed to make them want it by dangling it in front of them and then yank
ing it back away from them, threatening to drop them, making them want it so badly they could taste it by the end of the semester.
I knew it was all bullshit when I was a pledge but I played the game. I played it so well they didn’t know—still don’t know—that I think it’s all a bunch of bullshit.
For me it’s all about connections for after, not all this high-minded bullshit about brotherhood and helping each other out and community. Fraternities are like any other group of people. There’s backstabbing and cliques and feuds and gossip and fights. I can’t stand half of my “brothers,” but they’d never know it.
The only person here I am even remotely close to is Brandon.
Anyway, Kenny came by my room to tell me all about Ricky and how he felt.
“I think he really likes me.”
“Why wouldn’t he? You’re a great guy.”
“But he’s so handsome and sexy—”
“Don’t run yourself down, Kenny. Believe in yourself.”
Then I had to listen to all the details about their first date, how they walked over to Togo’s and then down to the beach where they watched the sun set in the west and held hands and came back to the house and they kissed and Kenny wanted to ask him out again and did I think he would say yes and how fast should he go and on and on.
Christ, it’s like listening to a junior high school girl talking about Zac Efron.
I suppose some people would think it cute, this whole Disney romance like he’s Aladdin and Ricky’s Jasmine going on a magic carpet ride and—I may throw up.
Someone rings my bell. I answer the door and it’s Joey Henderson. Joey’s almost six-six and has to duck to get through the door. He smells like chlorine and pot and sweat and hormones. His blue eyes are bloodshot and red from being in the pool and his huge dick is hard, I can see it through his shorts, which means there’s nothing under the shorts except cock and there’s razor stubble on his legs and broad chest and shoulders and he’s here because he wants me to suck him off because all the testosterone and endorphins from swim practice have made his dick hard and even though he’s high he wants to take a nap and he won’t be able to unless he’s gotten off and who else is going to blow him?
I close the door behind him and he drops his shorts off and lies back on my bed with his hands behind his head, his huge thick cock reaching up his torso past his navel and the trimmed bush around it over the pale strip of white skin where his Speedo rides low on his long torso, the muscular legs. He’s tweaking and pulling on his nipples.
He likes that, he likes me to suck and bite on his nipples.
You’re in for a surprise today, Joey, I think as I open the drawer on my nightstand and pull out two nipple clamps and snap them onto his erect nipples. His eyes open in surprise but then close to slits as he realizes how good it feels.
I get in between his legs and lick the underside of his cock. It tastes slightly like man musk and a bit of chlorine. He moans.
I kind of resent that he thinks all he has to do is knock on my door whenever his hard-on needs attention, but it’s a nice cock. It’s no wonder every girl he fucks turns into a stalker. I can’t imagine what it would be like to have that monster inside me, and he’s big and strong, too, with lots of endurance.
He’d probably put me through the damned headboard.
I start toying with his dick with my tongue, licking one side then the other, running it over the head, teasing the slit where I can taste a bit of precum. I cup his balls with one hand and wonder if I dare try to tease his prostate with the other hand? Sometimes he’s fine with it and sometimes he’s not, thinks it’s faggy to have a finger inside his ass, which is hilarious because he thinks it’s not faggy to have his dick in a fag’s mouth, but he’s not very smart to begin with. I don’t know how he manages to not flunk out, he’s really just a machine that swims and smokes pot and eats and fucks and studies some of the time, and I stop teasing it, I deep-throat him, which isn’t easy and takes a lot of skill, but fortunately I am good at sucking cock, and I am working his dick with my mouth and teasing his taint by running my index finger from his balls to his asshole and then back again slowly, ever so slowly while holding on to his balls with my other hand and he’s moaning, saying things like “oh yeah that’s nice suck that big dick” because talking like you’re in a porn movie is a turn-on, oh yeah, I can’t even begin to tell you how big a turn-on that is for me, but my dick is hard too but I can’t touch myself, I can’t get naked with him because that would be faggy and I wonder again why I am doing this, what part of me kind of hates myself to put myself through this kind of abasement, debasing myself, and then I think about how many times I’ve recorded this with my laptop and how many times I’ve set my phone to auto take pictures, and know that ultimately I could destroy him if I wanted to.
That’s why, of course, I remind myself.
He thinks he’s using me, but I have power over him.
Power. It’s all about power, isn’t it?
I choose to suck him off.
And he does what I want him to do as far as the house is concerned, and he gets all his buddies to fall in line. I’ve never had to threaten him with anything, but if I ever need to I can. It wouldn’t be hard to send the pictures and the videos to everyone on campus.
I own you, bitch, I think as he starts to stiffen because he’s going to come and I can feel his balls starting to constrict as he gets ready and I pull my mouth and head back at just the right time as he shouts as he spurts all over himself.
I get up and go into the bathroom and get him a towel.
He wipes himself down and pulls his shorts back up.
“Thanks, brother,” he says like he always does and leaves me.
I toss the cum towel in the laundry basket.
I need to get laid.
I need to get out of the house.
I pull out my phone and go to Grindr.
It doesn’t take long, some junior who lives in an apartment close enough by for me to walk. I put some poppers and condoms and lube in my backpack and sling it over my shoulder. I brush my teeth to get the taste of Joey out of my mouth and walk a couple of blocks in the insane heat to the Alhambra Apartments. I knock on the right door, apartment 220-B.
The door opens.
Shorter than I would like, but he takes care of himself. All he’s wearing is some board shorts. He has a Marvin the Martian tattoo on his right arm. He smiles at me. His hair is blond, buzzed short, and his dick is hard. He smiles and steps aside so I can go inside.
Once the door shuts he grabs me hard and shoves me up against the wall, shoves his tongue into my mouth while he strokes my dick through my shorts, and I cup his ass in both hands and he tastes vaguely like peppermint and I move my mouth down his neck and bite one of his nipples and he shudders, shoves his hands into his shorts and shoves them down and I slide one of my fingers between his hard ass cheeks, looking for the hole and then I find it, and smile to myself because he’s already lubed and ready for me to get in there and I run my fingertip around the rim and he’s already moaning and I tap the hole with my finger and his whole body flinches with every tap and he’s breathing hard and he’s undoing my shorts and I lean back, still tapping his hole with my finger and my shirt is coming up over my head and now he’s licking my chest, toying with my nipples and he’s breathing into my neck I want you inside me and we leave our clothes there and I put on a condom and he lies back on the carpeting in front of the television and I slide in between his legs and shove my cock inside him all the way and his eyes almost bug out of his head and his whole body is shaking as I stay there, straining and pushing to get deeper, I want my cock so deep inside him that it’s in his throat and he’s shaking and trembling and whimpering and I start sliding back out and his legs wrap around my waist like he doesn’t want me to come out of him but I keep moving back until all that’s left inside is the tip and then I ram down into him again, and he opens to me, and I start pumping, and his ass is amazing, it feels li
ke silk and velvet inside, and I lean down and kiss him on the mouth, our tongues mingling inside as I can feel it, my own load rising inside, and he is pumping his own dick in his hand, and he shoots all over himself and I pound a couple more times and shudder and cry out as I come, it feels like gallons are blowing into the condom, and I am shaking and he is shaking and then we are both finished and I slide out of him and tie the condom off and he smiles at me and asks me if I need to shower and I say no I’m good and put my clothes back on and shut the door behind me and I walk back to the house, my dick and balls a little bit sore but I feel better.
I didn’t even ask his name.
Probably better that way.
KENNY I feel like a pervert.
Ricky doesn’t know it but whenever I can do it without him knowing it I take pictures of him. We went to the beach this afternoon to just hang out and get some sun and when he took off his shirt I almost died I mean he is so good looking and his body is just so perfect and I took pictures of him with my phone coming out of the water with his shorts clinging to every part of him and he’s so good looking and oh my God when we got back to the house I downloaded them to my computer and I jacked off and now I feel so dirty and creepy and I don’t know how I am going to face him again I feel so dirty I mean who does this?
RICKY Kenny is so wonderful, so nice, such a good guy.
I don’t know if what I am feeling for him is love or not, but I smile whenever I think about him. I smile whenever I see him. All I want to do is spend time with him.
He is the sweetest guy.
Just this afternoon we went down to the beach. I feel so comfortable around him, and I’ve never felt that way about anyone before. I feel like I can tell him my secrets, I can tell him anything, and it won’t matter. The walk down to the beach felt like I was floating on air.
I am so glad I came to San Felice. I feel so much more at peace with myself.
