College Remembered - Day One - 1. Chapter 1

It wasn’t the first thing I noticed, but it was the first thing I noticed that made an indelible impression.

All four of us were uncircumcised.

That seemed uncanny to me having come from a high school where I was but one of handful - out of 400 or so– who somehow managed to keep his foreskin intact.

It was my first day at college. I’d been assigned to a suite in a spanking new dormitory, a modern beautifully designed building steeped in creature comforts that were heavily promoted as recruitment aids. Our spacious second floor accommodations consisted of two bedrooms - each with two queen size beds, large back to back desks replete with bookcases and both wireless and Cat-5 Wi-Fi internet capabilities, one posh living area with a 42-inch LCD flat screen, a kitchenette with a mic and a bathroom sporting twin marble wash basins replete with touchless brass faucets and a large shower stall.

My next memorable observation was that two of my room mates were hairy

chested – very hairy, and two of us were smoother than the glass window that looked out over the athletic field below. My third observation was that, if I do say so, we were all quite fit and damned good looking.

 

“I’m Spencer. Spencer Sutherland,” he said walking into the apartment for the first time. I’d been the first to arrive and had the pick of bedrooms and bunks though it hardly mattered since they were identical in shape, size, color, and amenities. Only the fascinating wall hangings differed from one room to the other.

“Hi, Spencer. Nice to meet you. I’m Carter Phillips. I guess we’ll be spending the next two semesters together,” I said feebly drumming up conversation. “Do you know who our other two roomies are going to be?”

“No. No I don’t,” he said completing his visual perusal of the large living room and now giving me a look over. “Maybe we’ll luck out and have the whole place to ourselves,” he said like an airline passenger wishing for the middle seat to remain vacant. “The extra space would be cool.” A knock on the open door made it apparent there’d be at least three of us.

“I think dis is where I to be, eh?” asked a toffee skinned six footer. “Dis is Beaverbrook 26?” he queried not being able to see the digits on the wide open door.

“Sure is dude,” said Spencer. We introduced ourselves. He told us his name was Pierre de Champlain, and had the accent to prove it. “In case you can’t tell, I from Quebec,” he pronounced it Kay-bek, and smiled warmly. A bumper crop of short black hair curled over the collar of his white T-shirt, one replete with a French caption,

Peut-être – peut-ètre-pas? (Maybe, maybe-not?”) from which fell a large red arrow pointing directly to his privates.

“On a hockey scholarship?” I queried.

“You figured dat out all by yourself?” Pierre smiled broadly. “Where should I put

dis stuff?” The French have a devil of a time pronouncing the ‘th’ sound I learned later.

“I’ve laid claim to a bed and a desk in there,” I pointed, “…so there’s two of you and three more slots,” I waved toward the other door – the one on the right. “If either of you snore, I’d rather you take the other room,” I laughed. “I mean if it’s all the same to you?”

“Well, I guess you two are rooming together by default,” said Spencer. “I’m told I snore like a fog horn.” Pierre brought his belongings into ‘my’ room while Spencer lugged baggage into the other. I plunked down on the large living room sofa and snapped on the TV to allow those two time and space to unpack their stuff with a measure of privacy. Soon they both left to retrieve more of their assets from their respective vehicles.

“Anybody in here?” an unfamiliar voice called from the doorway.

“Just one lowly freshman at the moment,” I turned my head to see a tall blond baby faced chap looking lost. He had the striking good looks and features of a young Leonardo DiCaprio.

“It says 26 on the door and I’m just a freshman too, so this must be the place. I’m Trevor Toussaint,” he said pronouncing his name Two-Sont. He let go of the grip on his oversized wheeled suitcase and thrust his right hand in my direction.

“Carter Phillips; glad to meet you, Trevor. Since you’re the fourth of four in the

door, I guess you’ll be hanging in there,” I pointed to Spencer’s room. “You’ll be bunking with the guy who says he snores like a fog horn,” I smiled.

“Fuckin’ great,” Trevor grinned looking from me into his new bedroom. “I suppose he farts a lot, too.”

“As a matter of fact I do, but just at night,” Spencer said loudly returning with two big boxes, one piled on top of the other. Pierre was back in the door seconds later hauling a back pack and a large duffle bag, both stuffed full distorting their soft canvas skins. I introduced them to Trevor, who smiled beautifully - and they all shook hands. The three of them unpacked as I watched a baseball game between two teams I could care less about. The truth is, I care nothing about baseball, but, to me, NFL games are more sacred than a funeral Mass.

Bored and believing Pierre was finished stashing his stuff, I went into the bedroom to stretch out with a book I had started last week. He stood there stark naked rummaging through his toiletries. “I need to shower some bad,” he said. “Dats one long jounrey down here from Les îsles de la Madeleine.”

“From where?” I asked, not understanding a word of his machinegun French.

“De Magdalen Islands,” he said slowly. “Dats how you Anglos call dem.”

“And just where the hell are they,” I inquired staring at his enormous uncut cock unable, for reasons I didn’t fully understand, to avert my eyes.

“In de middle of nowhere, really. A dozen little islands in de Gulf of Saint Lawrence between Prince Edward Island and Newfoundland; north of Nova Scotia. But day belong to de Province of Quebec. If you don’t talk French dare you might as well keep your mowt shut ‘cause hardly nobody gonna understand a word you speak. Nobody but me, and I’m not dare no more. He continued to gather the things he wanted: shampoo, deodorant, his tooth brush, tooth paste, razor and shaving cream. “Do day

have de soap and towels?” he asked realizing he had neither.

“I’m not sure whether they do or not, but I can let you use mine.” He stood in front of his dresser with the top drawer wide open. He turned as I squeezed past him en route to my side of the room solidly brushing against his heavily arched unit with the back of my hand. I said nothing, like it didn’t happen. His foreskin covered his glans completely and ended in a pucker that sealed-in the crown jewel of his manhood. I opened a drawer to fetch a towel and fumbled though my ditty bag for an unopened bar of Dial. “Here you go,” I said handing him the two items. He dropped everything on his bed while he wrapped the towel around his waist for the short walk into the bathroom. The frontal protrusion was impressive. Somehow it seemed even bigger than a minute ago.

He was semi-dry and sporting my towel when he returned 15 minutes later, shiny faced and clean shaven. I moved my eyes from my book. The jet black hair on his chest glistened with traces of moisture, his trim waist accentuating a perfectly flat stomach. He’s built, I thought to myself as the always present question surfaced through my head about my own sexuality. I’d never had sex with a guy, but I knew I admired the masculine physique a lot; a lot more than I’d drool over the feminine form if I was honest with myself; which I wasn’t very often. I had this bad habit of engaging in comparative anatomy; contrasting myself with every other dude I met. Someone whose hair was better groomed or fuller or styled nicer made be feel inferior. Someone whose jaw or chin was more defined, or whose chest or abs or legs were shaped attractively, someone with a certain chest hair pattern and certainly someone whose cock was bigger or hung or swung suggestively caused me to think I was not as happy as I wanted to be living inside the body which providence had assigned to me. In my head, I’d construct this composite man – a dude with the perfect penis, maybe blond hair all over, with a body by God, the face of an angel or Greek warrior, and the smile of a Samoyed replete with chin or cheek dimples, pronounced Bordeaux lips, either a classic straight Roman nose, or a small pug that curves up, and eyes that could pierce warmly into the soul so strongly it could read off all past and future sins. When in the presence of perfection, being good looking was just not good enough. Not for me.

Pierre removed the towel from his waist to dry himself more. He let it fall to the bed taking time now to slowly put his toiletries back in place. I began to feel as though he was showboating; clued into his own male magnetism and confident his endowment was so superior that the resulting penis envy would cause outright physical worship.

“Where do you come from, Carter?” he asked turning to me for an answer.

“Massachusetts,” I said realizing I had dry mouth. There was a knock on the bedroom door.

“Entrez,” Pierre shouted. “I’m trying to find where I put my underwears.” It was Spencer, bare chested and like Pierre, hairy from his collar bone to his pubic bone – and below. He looked the Canadian over thoroughly.

“Down here it’s ‘underwear,’ dude, not underwears,” Spencer stared. “Are you guys interested in the four of us having lunch together in a little while? A get acquainted gathering of sorts?” He looked away from Pierre for a second to glance at me and then

back to de Champlain. It was easy to see what had captured his attention. I did not feel

Spencer’s intrigue had anything to do with sexuality. Men endowed like Pierre were not common – at least not in Massachusetts and I assumed not here in Maine, either. Maybe in Africa, I thought. Truthfully, I have never seen a man equipped like that, and it was apparent Spencer hadn’t either – at least not recently.

“Good idea,” I said as our friend found his briefs and slid his legs into them, arranging his enviable package inside once the waist band was in place.

“Dat be fine wit me,” Pierre said his BVD’s bulging like he’d stuffed the front pocket with a softball. “What time?” He hung the towel over the closet door.

“How about noon?” Spencer suggested looking at his watch. “It’s almost 11 now.” Both of us indicated our approval.

“Trevor coming?” Pierre asked.

“Most definitely. Pizza good enough for everyone?” Both of us indicated our approval again, and Spencer left.

“I’m gonna lay meself down for a while, den,” Pierre said. It took me 15 mudder-fuckin’ hours to get here including de five hour rock and roll boat ride over to P-E-I.

“Prince Edward Island?” I asked. “Rough ride?”

“Hmm,” he nodded closing the bedroom door. He grabbed a book from his bag – a French language volume of some genre - and flopped on top of his bed facing me. The testosterone of his viral masculinity consumed the room’s oxygen. There was no doubt he was an athlete. The confident and comfortable manner in which he moved about was – well elegant, manly yet graceful. He put his book down by his pillow without opening it, and looked straight at me.

“So tell me about your Canadian self,” I asked closing my book on the index card

I used to mark my place.

“I play hockey. I started dat de same week I learned to walk I tink, but den again so did most of de boys on de islands.”

“And?” I asked.

“And besides dat, I play hockey,” he smiled showing sugar white teeth in contrast with his butterscotch skin. “And I fish. I mean I worked on a commercial fishing boat before I come here and I sang songs and played guitar in a tourist tavern on weekends at night in de summer.

“Did you bring it – your guitar?

“It still in de car.”

“Any time for a social life, play summer sports, hang-out, girl friends?” I was certain someone gift wrapped like him would have a harem.

“No. Not now anyway,” Pierre said sadly. “Just as well, doe. I won’t be back dare until de spring and dats a long time to make a relationship exist long distance, eh? Besides, there are not dat many where I live and those dat do lives out dare are – how do you say it?”

“Ugly?” I suggested.

“No. Not dat bad – but almost,” he grinned or grimaced, I’m not sure which. “Dare’s only 12,000 people living on dem islands and tree-quarters of dem are old. Older dan 50. We had just 65 in our graduating class and only 12 of us were going off island to college – mostly boys on hockey scholarships, like me.” He heaved his chest as if to take a deep breath, posing power as he did. “How about you? What’s your life all about, Carter?”

“I’m a book worm but I play golf and football and love watching the Patriots.

Here, I’m an English major would you believe. I love to write.”

“Good. Den maybe you can write de papers for me, ‘cause I have a hard enough time writing in French much less in de English,” he laughed but I was sure he was quite serious.

“You write your own but I’ll edit them for you and give you some pointers, okay?”

“And what do I got to do for you?” he asked in all seriousness, catching me by surprise.

“Oh – I’ll think of something,” I chuckled. “I’m gonna grab a shower now before we go eat.” I hauled myself off the bed and stood between the two bunks a couple of feet from the pillow that cuddled his youthful but masculine face.

“I hope I can cut it here, Carter,” Pierre said. “I’m kinda scared. I’m majoring in business management, but the language ting kinda has me all spooked up, you know?”

“I wish I could speak French as well as you do English, Pierre. You are quite fluent, in case you don’t know,” I said dropping my pants. “Do you read and write English very much?” I slid my boxers off and he looked at me without answering the question. I’d been fairly pleased with my endowment, until a few minutes ago.

“Every chance I get,” he said scanning up from my pubic area to my eyes. “Dats nice to see on you,” he said reaching out squeezing my foreskin between his thumb and index finger sliding the two layers of flesh back and forth.

“Not common around here for sure,” I replied as nonchalantly as I could not letting on I was flabbergasted by his forwardness even though I didn’t detect anything

sexual in his advance. It seemed equivalent to a pat on the butt to him.

With the towel around my middle, I walked across the living room to the bathroom. The door was closed and I could hear the exhaust fan running. Just as I was about to knock, the portal opened, inward, and Trevor stood there with a towel over one shoulder. His smooth torso was well defined, and while his stomach showed nothing of a washboard affect, it was flat, his waist 28-inches trim. Trevor had an above average cock, like mine, nicely shaped and also natural – uncut.

“Sorry,” he said reaching for the towel to wrap himself.

“No problem. You all done in here?”

“It’s all yours,” Trevor smiled and headed toward his room. “See you in an hour.”

I was standing in the shower facing one corner lathering my hair, deep in thought, when I heard the other shower head come alive. “Hope you don’t mind the intrusion,” said Spencer. “I’m sure we’ll be sharing this space a lot between now and next May.”

“Not an issue, Spencer,” I said turning to face him through squinting eyes. His fur covered chest was lathered like my head, and it was then I learned all four of us were Philistines. I didn’t dare reach over to finger his foreskin as Pierre had just done to me, but I couldn’t help thinking about it, finding it bizarre. Without knowing why, I have this foreskin fixation, or more accurately this uncommon focus on the strange practice of circumcision. It seems as barbaric to me as indigenous tribes knocking out teenage teeth or poking an animal bone horizontally through a girl’s nose. I’ve come to treasure my foreskin for some perverse reason, maybe just the fear that one day it might be sliced off. I remember at a summer camp when I was 13 being chased around the log lodge by a group of knife wheeling lads after we had finished skinny dipping before sunset. They were determined to make me look like them and had pinned me to the floor when the scoutmaster mercifully put a stop to their planned amateur bris. He helped me to my bunk and I shook for hours after deciding those cut kids would never see me naked again.

           

But now, Spencer and I were standing in front of one another naked, dressed only in soap bubbles. He inspected me as curiously as I looked him over, neither of us saying a word for a time, pretending we were staring off in space.

As I rinsed off he turned and said something about this being a great shower. The temperature was perfect, the water pressure manly solid and the ability to take the shower head out of its holder and move it around your body via its flexible hose made rinsing the hard-to-get-to parts a pleasure. I also discovered another pleasure. Using the pulsating jet setting directly on my cock and balls was titillating, but I knew if I did it very long the result would become embarrassing.

“That feels good, doesn’t it,” said Spencer. I turned to look at him, seeing him aim the beating water at his scrotum and inches from the underside of his cock. He was three-quarters hard. “Feels even better if you slide your skin back and turn the temp up a few degrees.” He peeled his foreskin exposing the ruby head of his now rock hard member. I’d never seen another guy hard before and it captivated me.

He continued to aim the water at his genitals, oscillating between his ball sack and his frenulum – that ligament of flesh that connects the foreskin to the underside of his cock head – the ‘G” spot of all erogenous sensations. As I watched I found myself becoming aroused but saw no need to conceal it given the circumstances. I slid my

foreskin back as far as it would go allowing the head to stick out, totally exposed,

pointing toward my shower mate. I followed his lead. Getting harder and harder, I found the vibes as enjoyable as the visuals. Suddenly Spencer began to gyrate his midriff. His cock began to explode, cum roping out of his meatus jet after jet, some of it landing on my leg. The encore came seconds later as my shaft erupted so powerfully it nearly causing me to crumple folded-up on the wet tile floor.

Neither of us had touched our cocks, certainly not each others. The tactile stimulus of the pulsing hot water combined with whatever fantasies weaved their magic in our minds was more than enough to force our scrotums to expel their captive sperm cells.

“That was wild, man,” said Spencer smiling as he rinsed off his cock and returned his foreskin to its proper posting. “What a cool way to get off.”

“How do you spell release,” I joked not feeling the shame I thought I should. “Wow!”

 

We landed at the neighborhood Pizza Hut, ordered the largest pie they had dividing the toppings by two: half with pepperoni, bacon, mushrooms, and black olives; half with hot Italian sausage, pineapple, hamburger, and green peppers. While they prepared it, we lined up at the salad bar and filled four plates. Returning to our table, each plate looked like an Egyptian pyramid.

“They must hate to see college kids come in here, knowing they’ll be cleaned out,” I said.

“I’m not worried about ‘em,” said Trevor. “The margin on soft drinks is usury,

and they’re not alone charging like that for what’s nothing more than sugar water.”

“Trevor, where you from,” Pierre asked, his mouth full of cottage cheese.

“Minnesota – Pipestone, Minnesota; it’s a small farming community in the southwestern part of the state. And you?”

Pierre explained the socio-political geography of the Magdalen Islands and a one paragraph narrative of his life heretofore. “And Spencer, yous lived where?

“A resident of Maine, I am. From a small tourist town of the southern coast: Ogunquit.”

“So, we have a masshole, a maniac, a frog and a gopher,” Trevor laughed at his characterizations. “Not a very homogenized group so far.” We compared majors: government for Trevor, business management for Pierre, criminal justice for Spencer, and English for me. Sports preference were equally diversified: hockey for Pierre, baseball for Trevor, basketball for Spencer and football for me; hobbies (hockey for Pierre; camping hunting and fishing for Trevor; surfing, biking and boating for Spencer; and reading, writing and golf for me).

We cleared space on the table as our large circular entrée arrived.

“Well so far all we have in common, gentlemen, is a palette for pizza,” Trevor deduced as I began cutting the first piece from the hot pan. “But none of us seems to smoke, thank God. I know I’m a government major so I don’t want you guys thinking I’m trying to practice on you, but we might save ourselves some grief if we can agree on a few things before they trip us up.”

“Such as,” said Spencer taking the first bit of his sausage laden pie.

“Lots of thing. The frig, the bathroom – the common areas of the suite; cleaning,

dishes, trash removal, disposal of wet towels - you know.”

“Okay governor, what’s your administration proposing. You do have a platform?” I asked wiping my mouth.

“No, not really. Just questions. Food we bring in. Are we gonna want to chip in a buy it for all of us, or do we each want to purchase and eat our own? If we do the together thing, who cooks, who does dishes?”

“I like to cook, but I can’t do it every night,” I said. “Besides don’t we all have cafeteria plans?” Everyone did.

“I’m talking about late night snacks, Sunday afternoon games on TV – that kinda thing. Soda or whatever else you all drink?”

“Beer!” Pierre said emphatically.

We worked out the food and clean-up questions, who vacuums and dusts, who empties waste baskets. We decided weeknights (Sunday through Thursday) lights-out would be 11:30 unless we occasionally agreed to a later time – agreed unanimously.

“The bathroom,” Spencer asked. “There are two sinks and two showers, plus the pot, so technically it can accommodate all of us at once. Since some days we’re gonna have similar morning schedules – eight o’clocks - is everybody okay with an open door policy there?”

“Dat’s okay by me,” Pierre said, his only contribution to the meeting aside from the agreement to be responsible for trash removal and his expressed preference for beer. Trevor and I nodded our concurrence.

“The only other question I have is about sex,” Spencer raised his eye brows.

“What about sex,” Trevor asked. “Are you suggesting we share that with each

other too?”

“What do you guys want to do if one of us brings a friend with benefits - up to 26?” Spencer sidestepped the direct question.

“The only way that works is if the roommate is willing to vacate his space for a while.”

“Or if everybody agrees we can all watch,” Pierre laughed.

“This sounds like an ad hoc situation to me,” I said. “Each of us would need to work that out, in advance, with his roommate. We can’t just create a policy. We could end up with a four-way if we don’t plan ahead for any given night.”

“What gives here?” Trevor asked. “A sex partner – a friend with benefits? What happen to the old tradition of bringing home a chic? Or are some of us queer?” He snickered, running his hand through his long blond hair.

“Some of us are just politically correct,” Spencer said bobbing his head up and down. “It is the 21st century. I’m just being sensitive to individual sexual preferences, in case we don’t all swing in the same direction.”

“Well - do we?” Trevor looked at each one of us eyeball to eyeball. There was an embarrassingly long pause. We pretended to be absorbed by pizza. As I’d soon learn, he was asking for a very different reason.

“I’ve been know to swing both ways,” Spencer finally said – almost boastfully. “Never been one to discriminate, not me – no sir.” He smiled broadly.

“I’m afraid I’ve never swung either way,” I admitted sheepishly. “So I don’t know from Adam.” I wasn’t sure whether anyone believed me, or not. Thinking about it, I kinda hoped they had doubts, unsure whether my honesty would be ammunition for

group ridicule.

“Okay. I tell you. Up dare on dem islands we fuck anyting dat moves, especially

in the winter just so long as it gots two feet and is not a chicken.” We all laughed. “I

kinda like de ladies but if one of you guys wants to suck my cock, or get your butt all filled up wit man meat dats okay by me.”

“I’ve seen your fuckin’ cock, Pierre,” Spencer said. “I’m not sure anyone could handle that monster from either direction.”

Trevor looked at us, surprise clearly plastered across his boyish face.

“Well, I didn’t expect so much honesty, especially at a first ever meeting. It’s kinda refreshing in a way. Kinda scary, too,” he said.

“That’s all true, Trev, but we haven’t heard your confession yet,” Spencer said cocking his head to the side.

I cut four more slices of the pie and lifted them onto each of our plates.

“I’ve had it both ways,” he lied.

“You have a preference?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” he looked perplexed.

“Dats ‘cause ever since he did it with his boy friend he doesn’t like de girls so much no more but doesn’t want to own up dat he’s some kinda queer.” Pierre said with shocking insight. The table was silent, waiting for Trevor to respond. We stopped chewing our food with military precision and stared at him.

“I don’t know, I told you.” He looked at his plate and ignored us as if Pierre had stuck him with an electric cattle prod.

“But I know, Trevor. You can’t fool an island bred Kay-becer. I know ‘cause it

happened to me like dat, too. It’s okay, man. Cut yourself some slack. Of course I’ve also known de guys that tried de guys and hated it some bad.”

“Something tells me we’re gonna learn a lot about ourselves before first semester

is over.” Trevor cracked a trace of a smile. He continued to eat.

“Well, well, well,” Spencer said. “Looks like pizza ain’t the only thing we have in common after all, gentlemen.” He grinned. “And from what I’ve seen so far, our cocks all have something kinda unique in common, too. This had to be planned by somebody who had access to our apps and medical records.”

 

The other two went back to “26” to watch a ball game. Trevor and I took a walk around the campus learning the lay of the land even though it was hotter than Honduras outside. The restaurant had been air conditioned and we’d been in there nearly two hours having ordered a second pizza accessorized exactly like the first.

“You’ve never had sex with anyone, - you’re a real virgin?” He asked as we strolled past the red brick administration building.

“Yes. I’m a virgin,” I said. “Funny. I’ve never told anybody that before today so to come clean with three strangers - I really surprised myself.”

“We all surprised ourselves, Carter. I’ve never had a lunch like that. What’s that song: ‘Sometimes when we touch the honesty’s too much.’”

“Yeah – but we haven’t done no touching. It was a group encounter for sure, but I have this feeling you guys didn’t tell everything. Chapter 2, the next time we convene the Beaverbrook 26 Society,” I said winking at him.

We walked silently for a half-mile, soaking up the buildings and grounds, each

buried in our own thoughts about life and the group dynamic we had unleashed this

afternoon.

“Are you willing to tell me about the male sex you’ve had?” I asked as we sat down on a grey stone bench in the middle of the quadrangle.

“Are you that hard up for giggles, Carter? You, a virgin with no baggage want me to spill my guts so you can have your chuckles and get our roommates howling?”

“I’d never do that, Trevor. Not to you, not to anybody. I’ll be upfront with you. I’m half sure I’m gay – at least bi. I do like looking at guys, and the less they’re wearing the more I like looking. It’s just I’ve never had the opportunity – or maybe the courage – to doing anything.”

Trevor gazed out over the lawn his eyes coming to focus on a fountain a few yards in front of us. “We are a trusting bunch, aren’t we? I bet you didn’t know you were this brave?”

“There are some chemicals blending around here, that’s for sure,” I replied. “I’ve never told anyone what I’ve just told you, but then I’ve never had any friends I thought would understand these feelings. And I have no siblings.”

“My first experience was with my brother.” He spoke slowly, looking straight at me so he could read my every reaction. “I came home from swimming in our next door neighbor’s pool one sweltering afternoon. It was just like today, hot humid and sticky. I wanted to change out of my trunks. Travis, my older brother, and I shared a small bedroom on the second floor. I climbed the stairs in my bare feet and walked down the hall to the open doorway and stopped dead in my tracks. Travis was sprawled out on his bed stark naked playing with his hard self. His eyes were closed as if he was way off in some wild fantasy. His cock was huge and stiff. I stood there - maybe for four or five minutes watching him beat it. Then he’d stop and fondle his foreskin for a time before going back to pump himself some more. I got hard watching him, never fully realizing before what a good looking body he had. He was 18 then and I had just turned 16.”

“So what happened,” I asked certain Trevor didn’t just quietly walk away.

“Travis opened his eyes and saw me there. He was so cool. So very very cool, Carter. He stopped masturbating and just kneaded his skin again as he looked me in the eye and then down at my tented crotch. ‘You can get a better view if you come over here,’ he spoke softly. I don’t know how long I stood frozen after that, but the next thing I remember was along side his bed, about to sit down. ‘Take off that wet swim suit first, Trevor,’” he ordered. I did as I was told.

“Were you still hard?”

“As a rock. ‘That’s real nice,’ he said to me reaching for my erection. Given how I was a couple of inches smaller than him back then, I felt relieved that he liked what he saw. Soon he was fiddling with two foreskins and I never felt anything like it before. He then took one of my hands and placed it on his cock and we started giving each other hand jobs. Before anything happened we were in the 69 position. He put his mouth over my cock, skinned me with his lips and began giving me the biggest thrill of my life. He said nothing, but it took only a minute before I realized what he expected from me.”

“You both got off, I assume?”

“In short order, Carter. But if you ever tell anyone about this and I’ll have to kill myself – maybe you first.”

“My word is my bond, Trevor, don’t worry.”

“He was your first?” I asked.

“And only - of either gender,” he replied, nodding slightly, closing his eyes.

“Did you two ever have sex together again?”

“Nightly. For a quite a while. We did each other for more than a month before he went off to college half way across the country. But we resumed when Travis came home for Christmas and summer vacations. The last time was last night, before we both left home.”

“Is it just sex, or did you guys fall in love?”

“Somewhere in between, I think,” Trevor told me. “Travis said he was not monogamous while he was away but told me he’d had not met Mr. Right, either.”

“How did you feel about that?” I inquired.

“I don’t know. I didn’t feel jealous knowing nobody could come too far between us since we’re bros. I did have some trepidation about STD’s; you know HIV/AIDS - that kinda stuff.”

“Did you two ever have anal sex?”

“All this past summer, both ways, but him fucking me mostly. He always used a condom. Travis told me he’d gotten tested in late April before he came back home and was negative but he didn’t want to take any chances.”

“You obviously liked it. Did you two ever get caught?

“Almost. I think my father got suspicious one night, but his timing was a few seconds off. Thank God!” Trevor wiped his brow, both theatrically and because of today’s boil.

We got up and began strolling toward the dorm. “So what are you thinking,

Carter?”

“About you?” I turned to look at him. “I don’t know. Nothing negative, that’s for sure. I’m a little envious, I think. I feel privileged in a way being the guy you felt you could trust like this. And I feel I’ve got a lot to learn. You? How do you feel now that you’ve off loaded your deepest darkest secret?”

“Relieved. Yeah. Relieved. Like it isn’t such a horrible thing after all, if I could tell you the truth and you don’t hate me or find me disgusting.”

“Did Travis tell you about any of his other encounters?” My curiosity was piqued and I could feel my cock half hard in my pants as we entered our building.

“He never said much. He told me the two other guys he did at college with were both cut and that took some of the mystique out of it for him.”

 

Spencer was in the living room wearing only gym shorts and watching TV. The place was stifling. The temperatures had to be 88 or 90, the humidity near 100% and even with the windows wide open there was not a molecule of air moving, even up on the second floor. (We learned days later there was central air and how to activate it.)

“Is Pierre here?” I asked.

“Yup. He’s in the bedroom pouting,” Spencer acted annoyed that I interrupted his game.

I walked in to find Pierre in his underwears reading. He looked up and then back to his book saying nothing.

“What’s wrong, chum?” I asked yanking off my sweaty golf shirt.

“We need to get anudder TV set. One for our room.”

“You guys had a dust-up over what to watch?” I surmised, glad it was no more serious than that.

“I just wanted to see the Canadiens – Bruins game for a minute while de commercials were on for de baseball. He told me to leave my Canuck hands off de TV.”

“What happened then?”

“I switched it anyway and he got all pissy. Told me to switch it back right now or he’d have me deported as a terrorist. Dats real scary stuff for an alien in your country

deese days,” Pierre said. He den told me his old man works for Homeland Security in de Portland office and he could get me tossed out in a heartbeat.

I walked over to the bed and patted his bare shoulder. “Yes, that is scary,” I said as if thinking out loud. “I’ll talk to Spence.” Leaving the bedroom and closing the door behind me, I strolled over to the TV and turned it off and stood directly in front of the screen. Spencer started to look threatening.

“You think you can take on both of us, Spencer, or would you rather we talk for a minute?”

“Sorry Carter. It’s just so fuckin’ hot in here.”

“I’m not the one you need to apologize to. That was a fuckin’ crappy thing to do just to get your own way.”

“I know. I feel like shit. I really do.”

“That’s pretty serious stuff for a foreign national here in the land of the free and the home of the brave. You know, “one nation, under … surveillance.” He pried himself off the sofa, and ran his hand gently through my hair as he walked into ‘my’ bedroom not saying another word.

“Pierre. I was being a fuckin’ ……” was all I heard him say before the door clicked shut. Trevor, now wearing only gym shorts, came back into the living room and asked what ‘that was all about.’ I told him. We sat staring at the blank TV screen waiting for Spencer, or for Spencer and Pierre to emerge. When five or six minutes had passed, I said:

“Tell me what else you and your brother did.”

“What makes you think there’s more?”

“My gut!”

“You’ve got a good gut, Carter.” He paused looking at the door to ‘my’ room to see if anyone was coming out.

No one was.

“After a time, Travis and I got into role playing, some mind games that involved things that are kinda hard for me to talk about.”

“Such as,” I ignored his unmasked plea to be let him off the hook. My imagination began to gallop ahead and again I felt myself getting hard.

“Verbal humiliation, physical humiliation, spankings - whippings.”

Waiting for him to say more, I sat silently with an increasing need to adjust my uncomfortable crotch. But I dared not move.

“What was your roll?” I asked.

“Let’s just say I was on my knees a lot - if that tells you anything.” It was as though he was speaking into the blind, not looking at me or even in my general direction. After glancing at my bedroom door again, he got up and walked over to the window. “I was his slave, especially on weekends when mom and dad were out of town – which was a lot this summer after my grandmother became terminally ill. She lived a couple hundred miles away - up in the Twin Cities.”

“So what does a slave do for his older brother?”

“Whatever he’s told. From the time my folks left Friday afternoon until they were due home Sunday evening, he kept me naked, even when he had his friends over.”

“And how did he explain that?” I chuckled, my cock pushing against the bottom hem of my shorts ready to pop out at any second.

“He’d tell ‘em I lost a bet. He’d give them permission to paddle my ass and they all loved doing it. Sometimes I thought that was the only reason they came over. That - and all the free beer they could drink.”

“Really,” I said. “What did they use on you?”

“Everything. The flat of their hands, folded up newspapers, hair brushes, their belts. One guy brought over a big wooden paddle from his fraternity house; another had a riding crop.”

“So this happened more than once?” I asked looking at the beauty of his well defined chest.

“Oh yes. Nearly every weekend this past summer. Travis would call his buddies and say “Trevor lost another bet last night. They’d start showing up around 8 the next night and be into the suds by 8:05. One time he had this black guy bind my hands and feet with those long plastic cable ties, you know the kind the cops use when they run out of handcuffs.”

“Yes,” I said shifting my position on the couch wondering what was going on in ‘my’ bedroom.

“Well, Travis took his belt off and stood me up in front of the other five. He peeled my foreskin and with the end of the belt – the last six inches or so – began strapping the head of my cock. He didn’t do it so rough that I blistered, but firm enough that I got incredibly hard and eventually shot my load in front of them. He’d literally beat the cum out of me.”

I sat there looking from ‘my’ bedroom door to Trevor wondering why that story made be so horny.

“Travis then made me get down on my hands and knees and lick it up while his friends walloped my butt some more.”

“Why did you go along with that, Trevor?” I asked trying to inject intellect into a raw sex scenario.

“As I said. We were role playing and I guess, in some perverse way, I liked it. I know I liked making Travis feel good. I liked making him happy. I’ve always had something of a servile nature.” He looked toward my bedroom door again and then at his watch. “Now, I suppose you reallyare disgusted with me?” His words reflected regret that he’d told me so much, but at the same time I sensed he found his full confession therapeutic.

I showed him the outline of my hard-on through my shorts. “Obviously I’m not disgusted at all, Trevor. Turned on! But I’m feeling ashamed that hearing about slavery does that to me.”

“Don’t be ashamed, Carter. You’re just horny. If I were 20 years old and never

had sex with anyone I’d be raping every good looking body I saw.”

I looked at him realizing our level of honesty and disclosure had been

unprecedented. How that much trust developed in the few hours we’d known each other had me shaking my head.

“They’ve been in there a half hour now! What do you think is going on?” Trevor asked smiling.

“They’re just talking, I’m sure. Pierre was really pissed by Spencer’s threat and I’m certain he wants some kind of iron clad assurance that it’s not gonna happen again; that Spencer isn’t gonna pull that shit anymore.”

“You think?” asked Trevor. His magic smile spread across his cute young looking face like butter melting on a hot biscuit. “Do you find me attractive?” He asked out of the blue.

I wish I’d had a mirror so I could have seen the expression on my face. The question had as many implications as a tree has leafs.

“I’m not asking you to have sex with me, Carter. I’m not asking you to be my lover – nothing like that. I was just wondering if you think I’m good looking – good looking like you and those two in there. It’s just vanity – pure vanity, that’s all.”

“You’ve asked two separate questions, Trevor. Yes, you’re a good looking guy, extraordinarily good looking – not the same as those hairy bears in there,” I said pointing to ’my’ bedroom, “but – ah – more defined, more delicate – a real cute dude with a beautiful face and an awesome body to match. And I love your facial expressions. In answer to your first question: Yes I am attracted to you – too fucking much as a matter of fact.” I looked him squarely in the eye, wondering if I should have been so forthcoming. He smiled again.

“I think you’re hot too, Carter and that big hard-on you’re trying too hard to hide

is turning me on, big time.”

I wasn’t sure I liked where this was going, but I wasn’t sure I didn’t. Virginity breeds its own brand of fear. It also breeds curiosity - and yes, lust.

Just then ‘my’ bedroom door popped opened and Pierre and Spencer emerged awkwardly trying to look normal.

“You guy good friends again?” I asked. They both nodded and smiled sheepishly.

“And just how good?” Trevor inquired shaking his head condescendingly as we both stood up to shake their hands.

“I’ve forgiven him,” Pierre said. “We’re gonna all be more sensitive, Trevor,” he said, the tone of admonishment escaping no one.

“You guys were in there a long time,” Trevor said egging them on.

“Well from the pup tents I see in both your shorts, it looks like you boys were plenty pleased with the additional privacy,” Spencer smiled.

“That’s just from fantasizing about what you two were doing,” I said – telling a half truth.

“Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!” Spencer said extending his hand. They sat down on the couch together, side by side wrapping their arms around each other’s shoulders, fingering one another’s chest hair - this in spite of the oppressive heat. Trevor and I looked at them for a few seconds – but dared not stare. I went for the TV remote, flicked it on, and found the menu channel.

As the multiple viewing choices scrolled past, I said: “Let me know if you see

something you like.”

“Besides each other,” Trevor added light heartedly. Pierre and Spencer turned

and looked at one another; eyes locked, and then moved their heads closer together to lip

kiss.

“Wow!” I said feeling a little left out - and jealous.

“Okay – inquiring minds want to know. What exactly did you two do in there,” Trevor said pointing to ‘my bedroom.”

“Exactly?” said Spencer. “That’s none of your fucking business,” he smiled moving his lips away from Pierre’s.

“I tell you some,” Pierre grinned. “I spanked his ass good. Pull down your underwears and show dem,” he ordered.

Spencer stood up while Pierre went into the kitchen. Spencer pulled the back of his shorts below his crack revealing welts and spots of broken flesh still blotched red from bleeding.

“You one fuckin’ lucky Yankee, Spencer-boy,” Pierre said. “We got no salt here. I was gonna rub some on dat hairy butt of yours to help you remember that you aren’t ever gonna mess with Pierre like dat again.” Trevor slid his hand over Spencer behind feeling the contour of the strap inflicted ridges.

“Like Coke – it’s the real thing,” Trevor said as Spencer elevated his briefs concealing his damaged buttocks. “So what else did you do?” Trevor insisted.

“Okay. We messed around!” Spencer said.

“No shit,” I said. “What exactly did you do?”

“Like I told you, none of your fuckin’ business,” Spencer made an unfriendly

face.

“You guys wanna room together?” I inquired.

“Yah - dats a good idea,” said Pierre. “Trevor, are you willing to move in wit

Carter?”

“If it’s okay with Carter, and if you tell us exactly what you two did in there,”

Trevor played the ace.

“Yeah. That’s okay with me. If you tell us,” I chimed in.

“Started off as a hand job for Pierre, then docking with him, and then I gave him a blow job.”

“That’s it?” Trevor asked.

“NO! I gave Spencer a blow job, too. 69,” Pierre admitted.

“Okay. No big deal,” Trevor said. “Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Pierre and Spencer smiled, shook their heads no and looked back and forth at us.

“Now, Pierre – get your shit out of my new room,” Trevor grinned, walking into his old one to begin transferring his own belongings. I helped him as Spencer lent a hand to Pierre. It didn’t take ten minutes and the four of us were congregated back in the living room. Pierre snatched a beer – a Molson – from de frig, from one of the two 12-packs he had put in there earlier in the day.

“I’m 21. I don’t know how old you boys are, so I can’t offer you any ‘cause Spencer will have me deported if yous underage. But den again I doubt I could stop tree of you from raiding de refrigerator if you decided to.” He smiled knowingly, please with his own legal two-step.

In the middle of my third beer I went into my bedroom. Feeling tired and confused by the events and talk and discoveries of the day, I put my head on a pillow. I was staring at the ceiling when Trevor came in closing the door behind him. I watched him peel off his gym shorts. He was wearing nothing under them. Neither of us said a word but he looked as stupefied and tipsy as I felt – the beer and the heat. He plopped himself in bed – my bed, next to me, hard as a diamond. I’d been afraid of something like that, but I was equally worried that he might ignore me. My beer fuzzed mind was awash in conflict. I found Trevor very easy on the eyes and a person who built trust as solidly as he had built is body. Yet I didn’t really know him. Here I was poking my head out the closet door for the first time – seeing if it felt right – right for me. Being a virgin at my age, 20, seemed unthinkable in this day and age, but I had this romantic notion that on my first trip to the hayloft I’d make love, not just have sex.

I reached over and latched onto a package of breath mints and sliced one of the discs off the roll with my thumb nail.

“Would you share one of those?” Trevor asked. I handed him the cylinder and rolled over – my back to him.

“Thanks,” he said. “I’ll put them on the night table if that’s okay.”

“Perfect,” I replied

“Your back is to me! That can mean one of two things,” Trevor’s speech was nearly alcohol free. “Either you want it up the butt, or you won’t want me messing with you at all.”

“I’m not sure what I want, but I don’t want anything up my butt.”

“May I put my arm around you? I promise it won’t go any further unless you ask.”

“A guy with a woody is not a good promise maker,” I replied.

“I am, Carter. Really. As my brother’s slave I was hard a lot of times and he

wouldn’t allow me to cum or touch myself or him or anything. I’ve learned sexual discipline like nobody you’ve ever known but I understand if you don’t want me touching you.”

“Trevor. I was all fucked up even before the beer. The honest answer is I don’t know what the hell I want.”

“Carter! That’s what I really like about you – about us. We are honest to the core with each other.”

“Yes,” I said. “Yes, I’d like it if you’d put your arm around me; but Trevor, please don’t try anything else. I’m not ready. I’m not even close to being ready, but I like the chemistry that’s clicking in.”

His arm fell across my bare chest as he drew me closer to his trim muscular form.

“I’m likin’ the chem too, Carter. It’s scary, ya know. We’re so freaking new to each other, but I haven’t shared this much of myself with anyone in years – if ever. What I shared with my brother was all physical – fun and physical, but we never talked to each other about how we felt.”

“I’ve never talked to anyone else about this, either.”

“You feel good,” he said tugging me a little closer.

“So do you,” I heard myself respond. “This is nice.” I didn’t have an erection, - not a full one anyway, and I wasn’t overly horny, but I did feel very comfortable, secure, and, something new for me of late. I felt wanted. His arm held my insecurities together as it embraced of my torso. I could feel his smooth chest sweat-lock itself with my bare back; the tranquility of the moment began to replace the beer induced stupor of an hour earlier.

He started to slide his finger tips up and down my chest, changed direction when he reached my navel and again when they’d arrive at my Adam’s apple. He completed the cycle only a few times when we heard a loud thug from the other room. Trevor bolted out of bed and beelined toward the living room. Standing in our doorway, he stared for a second or two – suddenly grinning. He grabbed my towel off the door knob and dried the perspiration from his chest. I got out of bed, shed my gym shorts and peeled the bed covers back while Trevor went to the bathroom. He returned, dabbed my back dry, stuffed himself between the sheets and resumed spooning.

“Those two are shit faced. They just fell off the couch. Both of ‘em are laying on the floor right now not willing or able to move. They’re both harder than steel, but that cock on Pierre is something else. I’ve never seen anything like it. Fuckin’ huge!

“I haven’t seen him hard, but soft he’s a Clydesdale,” I said as Trevor drew me even closer.

“Falling off to sleep, I remember Trevor’s finger travelling the length of my sternum again.

I awoke several hours later, my bladder ordering the eviction of 36-ounces of Golden Molson. I pushed the covers back and gently, so not to wake him, lifted his arm from my frame and got up. Little motion sensor night lights came on in the bedroom, the living room and the bath as I moved through the suite. Spencer and Pierre were still pasted to the floor, unconscious, holding each other’s cock in their hands.

Back in the bedroom, I slid under the covers, facing Trevor this time, sure he was

fast asleep. He was a beautiful specimen. The low indirect light created shadows and highlights that made magic with his sculptured face and defined chest. A minute later the little night lights extinguished themselves one by one and the room went black again. Nestled in the pillow with the covers drawn up over both of us I was pleased I’d been able to do the bathroom thing without disturbing him. Unable to see him now, I could hear his breathing and smell is sweet masculine scent.

“Are you okay, Carter?” he asked surprising me. He draped his arm over my rib cage once again and swept me into his frame.

“Yes, Trevor. I’m fine, now that I’ve stopped warehousing Pierre’s brew.

He leaned closer and kissed my forehead. I was able to free my right arm and place it across Trevor’s side, my fingers coming to rest on one of his nipples.

“Thank you,” he whispered and kissing my forehead again. “This is so much nicer than role playing with Travis.” I wasn’t pleased with the comparison but I understood that for him it was inescapable. Yet, I didn’t know what the hell I was doing. Was I falling in love? Was I just making out? Was I simply experimenting, looking to find if I had a comfort zone with this kind of sex? But I wasn’t having sex – at least not now. Maybe I’m still a little drunk and my guard is down? Perhaps I’m lonesome, away from home and friends and family, and simply found a surrogate cradle – a teddy bear to placate the child within me? My self inquisition braked to a stop when suddenly I felt Trevor’s lips on mine, pressing firmly, his taste buds seeking a forced entry. I froze. Then I remember puckering and tentatively returning his kiss followed by a warm tingling glow. Finally my mouth involuntarily opened admitting Trevor’s tongue. We embraced tighter while he explored every crease and crevasse in my oral cavity. I worked to catch my breath. My cock had begun to grow, finding release from confinement by escaping through the semi-open fly of my boxers. I could feel it feeling Trevor’s hard piece and focusing on that sensation made me harder still. Impulsively I squeezed Trevor closer to me, afraid of what was happening, but without question enjoying it.

“My God, Carter, you feel so good. My heart is racing a mile a minute.”

“Mine too,” I whimpered as he placed his mouth over mine again with a passion that consumed my mind.

“Carter,” he said when he separated our mouths. “You don’t have to do a thing, but I’d be honored to provide you a measure of pleasure you’ve never known before. I promise I won’t hurt you. Not in the slightest.” I sensed the slave side of his nature reemerging, but while I was overwhelmed with the offer I questioned how much further I wanted to go - at the same time doubting the events of this night were still within my control. My cock throbbed with each pound of my heart. The line between lust and love became impossible to identify, as difficult as identifying a distant horizon on a moonless night. Why the words my virginity – my virginity rang in my ears at that moment I’ll never know but they did and they did loudly. I’d been both proud and ashamed of my sexual history but never visualized a consummation occurring like this. I could feel his meat pressing against mine, the sensation rich as anything I could remember. Trevor wasn’t a stranger and I had no fear that tonight would be a one night stand, a cheap trick. But he wasn’t a friend either, not yet, not in the time tested sense of the word. But the feeling of trust and honesty we felt for each other was undeniable.

“What do you say, Carter?” he asked softly, respectfully, hopefully.

I paused a minute more, having made my decision, now selecting the right words for my answer.

“Do with me as you will, Trevor. I’ll try to participate but I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.”

“Do nothing. Lay back and enjoy the ride.” He reached down and gently removed by shorts carefully poking my swollen member back through the front hole. The touch of his fingers on me was breathtaking, something I’d never sensed before. His movements over me triggered all three of the small four-watt night lights making us visible to each other in the shadows of the night.

“Carter, that is one beautiful cock you have.” He held it in his hand as if it was a precious stone or a new born puppy. “My God that is a work of art.” He used his other hand to cup by scrotum. He bent forward and kissed me again. I kissed him back. “May I have permission to peel you?” He asked with a keen respect for my person – for my privacy.”

“Please be gentle. That’s sensitive issue.”

“I know,” he said thrusting forward to show me his. He retracted both foreskins at the same time, and returned one hand to my ball sack. “That’s beautiful to look at both ways, just fucking magnificent.” He leaned forward and began licking the head of my pulsating cock, swinging his tongue around the back side so it could tease the frenulum – my hot spot. After a minute or two, he swallowed my entire shaft, his nose sniffing my pubes. I was groaning but only a little louder than he was. Up and down he bobbed, moving part of my forward flesh back and forth with his lips. His oral grip grew tighter as his motion became faster. One hand was pushing down on the mattress, supporting his weight. His other hand rested on my chest, his fingers fondling, sometime pinching my tit. I had no idea they were that sensitive to the touch. It was when he took one hand away and cupped my balls again, teasing them with his fingers that I felt myself exploding.

“Awwwwww. Oh my God,” I shouted as my cream soaked seed erupted like a volcano into his willing mouth. “Ohhhhhhhh, Trevor. Please stop. Please!” I squirmed finding his touch overpowering now that I was empty. He slowly slid his head off my head and smiled brilliantly having swallowed every drop of my emission.

“Thank you, Carter. Thank you very much for letting me be your very first.”

“Your welcome. Thank you for……”

We were interrupted by a standing ovation. Pierre and Spencer were standing in the door, naked, hard, grinning – and applauding.

“So, Carter, Trevor got your cherry?” Spencer said. They stopped clapping and began stroking each other. My first inclination was to cover myself, but then thought ‘why bother.’ All four of us were fully exposed and fully erect.

“He got it all,” I admitted watching them walk closer to my bed. As if I was looking for a safety zone, I wrapped my hand around Trevor’s magnificent manhood and subconsciously began stroking it slowly.

“Here, try some real man meat,” Pierre said grapping my other hand putting it on his giant 11 inch erection. My fist went around it, almost. I was now working two beautiful cocks. As I peeled them back, Spencer’s mouth wrapped itself around my still overly sensitive unit. But, I owed Trevor, I thought. I twisted to my left, finding my mouth now near his hard cock.

“Trevor – please,” I said looking into his big green eyes. He slowly slid his sleek tapered uncut penis into my mouth, wiggling his hips.

“Never had your mouth fucked before, have you, Carter?” Spencer’s voice was muffled, still holding part of my cock between his lips. I continued to hand beat his meat as I sucked Trevor as hard as I could. Spencer looked fully circumcised with the skin shoved back all the way, so did Pierre. My index fingers circled the lines of flesh connecting their foreskins with the heads of their very ample units. The soft hardness of their cocks in my hands, the heat of Trevor’s in my mouth filled my senses.

Almost simultaneously, the four of us exploded. The convulsions for Trevor, who had not cum earlier, were the most profound. Pierre and Spencer, who were only getting hand jobs from the least experienced guy in the room, had shot at least three times before.

I exploded into Spencer’s mouth, at first causing him to gag because of the awkward angle. He swallowed as he repeatedly and loudly slapped my ass with the flat of one hand. We collapsed into a heap, moaning, panting, saying nothing. I freed my hands to slide my finger up and down their fur covered chests, something I had wanted to experience since the first time I’d seen a hairy chest on a young guy on a Provincetown beach when I was 13.

After several minutes, Trevor asked those two to leave so we could sleep. It was 2:30 in the morning. I appreciated his candor.

“See ya in a few hours,” Spencer said as he grabbed Pierre by his cock and lead him out the door none too gingerly. I crashed, literally plopping on my soiled bed. Before I could pull the covers over me, Trevor hopped in next to me pulling the covers over us both. He spooned me, sweeping me into his body with the strength of the wind blowing water off the ocean. He said nothing, merely adjusting himself for comfort as he cuddled closer and closer. At first I feared he’d attempt more sex but it took me but a

second to understand he sought only to snuggle. I felt like a pearl cocooned in an oyster.

“You feel good,” I whispered. “Thank you for this.”

“You’re welcome, Carter. Thank you. Can we talk in the morning?”

“I hope so,” I answered and he pressed his hand against my chest. I wasn’t sure I understood his question. Was it he didn’t want to talk now, too tired; or was it he had something heavy to tell me? It didn’t matter at the moment. I was exhausted, spent, my cock sore. I fidgeted with my foreskin, making sure the delicate flesh had not been damaged on its maiden voyage.

A few minutes ticked off the clock and I felt him move slightly. “Carter - do you believe in love at first sight?” He whispered.

“I’m beginning to,” I responded. He gripped me tighter for a second, and seconds later we were both fast asleep.