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    sandboy
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Tyler and Reese - 8. Chapter 8

Tyler's sense of naked Reese grew even stronger as Reese blushed beet red in response to Tyler's question about sport. Blushing is such a totally physical response. As Reese alternately reddened and blanched during the rattling near-monologue that followed, and Tyler shrank in embarrassment at having asked such a plainly inappropriate question (but what else could he say? he was Tyler, he rowed, he rowed and he jerked, but mostly he rowed...) his sense of protectiveness towards Reese grew - and so, strangely, did his sense of being protected by this geeky boy from the socially bewildering world of collegetown. He also experienced his own totally physical response, as his hanging semi, so recently ejaculated, nevertheless grew heavier once again in response to this geeky boy.

"So, no real sports?", Tyler asked, compounding his earlier error (but what else could he say? he was Tyler, he rowed, rowed and jerked, but mostly rowed...). "Not even a run or summat?"

Reese's monologue continued a while (although it did confirm, to Tyler's delight, that they were both doing physics majors - geek boy was gonna be Tyler's principal teaching resource) ... then collapsed in an utterly incomprehensible astronomy joke (Tyler just looked pained and bewildered), at which Reese fled in embarrassment to the bathroom.

Mmmmmm. Bathroom. Naked Reese. Tyler's cock throbbed to full power. He pushed open the door to his tiny bedroom - just wide enough for a single bed [ie a bed for one] and room to stand up, took in the scene, and fell onto the bed, on his back. He push his joggers down and pulled his sweat up, exposing his ass to the bed and his fine asscheeks to the room, and taking his throbbing cock in his hand. He pulled at it, and in just four or five strokes it was ready to deliver a couple of shots of cum, and Tyler paused, expertly, on the brink. Then, to his horror, Tyler realised that the *only* image in his head, apart from his own fine muscular arm, was the image of naked Reese: vulnerable, skinny, in need of protection, but also social and intellectual protector. Reese, only metres away in the bathroom at this very moment. The moment he realised this, without any further movement of his hand, he shot his cum. Two shots, on his belly.

He looked around for something to wipe on, but there was nothing, of course, so he just lowered his sweat and smudged the cum on the inside of that. He pulled up his joggers and swung himself upright, and strolled back into the shared room, his spent cock swinging heavy in his joggers. Reese was still in the bathroom.

Tyler looked in resignation and the pile of cases and the dull task they represented. He began to take things out and position them at random in his half of the room. He had some sporty muscle-men posters; he put them randomly on his part of the wall, feeling an unfamiliar disinterest in them, almost a disgust compared to ... no, must stop thinking that. 'His part of the wall'. Hm. Interesting concept. Who defined that? Reese did. It felt comfortable, having Reese in charge. Safe.

Reese came back into the shared room from the bathroom in unfamiliar silence, took a book, and started to read. Tyler's cock ceased softening and settled in a semi again as he continued unpacking in silence, desperately trying to think of something friendly to say or to do.

Copyright © 2011 sandboy; All Rights Reserved.
Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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