Gordy Comes Home - 3. Chapter 3

Wylie woke up long before John would have liked. He stretched and yawned before opening his eyes. Seeing John watching him, he smiled warmly, then as he came fully awake he frowned. John stood, hoping to get out of the room before Wylie started talking, but Wylie sprang to his feet, his eyes dark with anger as he scowled.

“Just what the fuck's gotten into you?” He growled. “You’ve quit talking to me. You’ve been avoiding me. You wanna tell me what the fuck’s going on? I tried to figure it out.. I thought maybe it was my fault. Maybe I did some unintentional shit. I thought back on every conversation, everything we did together, and every time we got drunk. I wanted to know what I did to make you hate me. I just about went crazy. It’s sucks having a roommate that can’t stand the sight of you. I would’ve done just about anything to get back to being friends. I was even gonna apologize. I didn’t even know what for. I figured if I said I was sorry, we could still be friends. After a couple of days of trying to talk to you, I figured it out. I haven't done one fucking thing to deserve this shit."

He paused and took a deep breath, then he spat out, "It's you! You've met other guys and now see that I'm not in your social class. Maybe you live on a big-assed ranch and I don't own a pot to piss in, but I thought we were gonna be friends. Instead, you're embarrassed to even know me.” He took another deep breath. “I bet you decided breaking off our friendship was for my own good. Because I just wouldn't fit in. Well, if that’s it, why didn’t you have the balls to say something? I could at least try to understand. Instead you sneak around like a snake. I've seen you watching me between classes like I was some kind of experiment, like you wanted to know how us peons live when we don't have our ‘Betters’ to show us the ‘Civilized’ way.”

The words and emotions came rushing out. His frustrated anger evolved into seething rage. His black eyes filled with hated. As he snarled, spittle dribbled from the corner of his mouth. He was ready to kill or cry.

"That snobby son-of-a-bitch you brought in to ‘borrow a book,’ sure to fuck looked down his nose at me. You two will make a fine pair. Maybe y'all could get one of those suites or an apartment off campus, and get drunk and laugh your asses off about this poor, struggling, blue collar bastard… you know the one who can only afford Lone Star and was dumb enough to think you were his friend."

Wylie's hands begin to tremble like an old man with palsy, or like a young man in a rage about to lose control. "I may not be rich, but that doesn’t give you the right to treat me like shit."

He clinched his fists. Spit flew when he continued, “You pretend you don’t know me in public and ignore me when we’re alone. You need to find another place to live, Buddy. If you stay in this fucking room, with your stinkin’ attitude, your life'll be hell. You understand me?“

“I can't afford to make waves here. I can't ask for another room assignment, but you can get one in a heartbeat. In fact: I think you better do that today because right now,,," He paused and took a deep breath as if reconsidering what he was about to say. "Because right now it's all I can do to keep from kicking your fucking ass. Your shit had better be out of here by the end of the day!”

John had watched Wylie’s face grow more menacing as he talked. He had seen Wylie tremble, fighting for self control, his adrenaline charged muscles were bulging, the muscles and tendons stood out against his neck. The fact that his voice never got louder than a conversational tone, only added to the image of "potential mayhem."

He knew that if he made an aggressive move or if he said the wrong thing Wylie would attack. He knew no matter how he fought, Wylie was so angry that he would feel no pain. He didn't want to fight Wylie; he wasn't sure he could, so he would have to choose his words carefully.

While John had spent the better part of an hour just watching Wylie sleep he’d speculated on what Wylie would have to say. It never occurred to John that Wylie thought him a snob.

He was about to defend himself. Then again, maybe it would be better to end it this way. If Wylie thought he was a snob… if they could never be friends, then maybe the dreams would go away. Besides, this small confining room had possibly contributed to these strange feelings. Maybe he should get his own apartment like his Dad suggested.

John found it impossible to meet Wylie's dark eyed gaze as he prepared to defend himself. John didn’t want to be gay, he had to lie to Wylie. Didn't he?

Trying to step back he stumbled, almost falling. Wylie simply watched, his body poised, ready to strike at the slightest provocation. Recovering, John found an interesting spot on the floor and stared at it, unseeing.

The lie began as John contritely said, “I’m sorry Wylie. You're right. I’ve been thinking about us, about our, uh, friendship."

At this point John found himself scanning Wylie's face, avoiding eye contact. He cataloged Wylie's features. Even though he was sure he would never forget them, he took a moment to reinforce his memories. This would be the last time they would stand this close… the last time, maybe to even speak to each other. He wanted to make sure he built a solid memory… this last time.

But then his eyes met Wylie's gaze and held. He took a deep breath and started over, "I admit I've been avoiding you, but, it’s not what you think. I never thought about whether or not you have money. I only think about you...” John's voice cracked, “And it scares me."

Should he tell Wylie everything? He wanted to shut up, but he couldn't. Whatever the price, he couldn't leave with Wylie hating him. When he finished talking Wylie might still hate him, but at least then he would have an honest reason they could both live with… a real reason.

He hesitated a moment then continued, "Look, I never had a close friend. Never had a friend I could talk to. Then I met you and practically told you my life story in the first few minutes after we met.”

“Just hanging around with you is great. I realized that you already meant so much to me that if you got to where you didn’t like me I‘d be really hurt. It's happened to me before, so I figured if I stayed away from you I could get to where,… Well, if you turned out to be an asshole it wouldn’t bother me. I figured if I avoided you for a while,… it would help me… I wanted to still be friends. Like I said, we got so close, so fast, it scared me.”

That was not what John expected to say! If he shut up now, maybe he would be left with some dignity.

Seeing no change in Wylie's expression or demeanor, he started talking again, “I haven’t told you everything. Some things I can't talk about. Like; I'm not sure if I want to major in business. I know it means a lot to my dad. He expects me to help him run the ranch and stuff. He's getting older. I wasn’t sure if my major is what I want or what he wants."

"I realize that all of a sudden, being twenty isn’t much different than being ten. Except the choices seem to affect other people more. That's been on my mind a lot. I mean, I want to make my dad happy, but I got to do what’s right for me. I know… it sounds stupid, even to me. I didn't want you to laugh at me. I wasn’t sure I could trust you to talk about my problems. Now that it may be too late. I guess I just did.”

John realized he was babbling and needed to stop. He had hurt Wylie, he owed him an explanation, but at what price? He started again, trying to stay on the subject. “Wylie, you haven’t done anything wrong. I’m sorry I made you think I’m a snobby asshole, like Randy. Can you accept my apology? I'll try to be the best friend you ever had? I swear to you, I- am – not - a snob. Besides, snobs don't have to shovel horse shit, on a regular basis. I fucked up, and I'm sorry. Please forgive me."

Why did it feel like he was begging? Wylie’s demeanor still hadn’t softened, so John kept talking. "Wylie, I found myself feeling things that I’ve never felt for another person, much less another man, it shook me up. I've never had a close friend before, not like this. I had to have some space… some time to figure out what going on in my head. You know what I mean?” He took a deep breath and continued. “I didn't think about how what I was doing would make you feel. I guess I figured what I did wouldn't matter to you. I’m sorry. I was selfish. I hope you can forgive me. If you can't, I'll move out today." He paused, then staring at that same spot on the floor; he said almost in a whisper, “It's up to you."

John was amazed by what he had just said. He feared Wylie might think he was confessing to being gay based on what he had just said. He had never felt so exposed, so vulnerable in his life.

Again his eyes searched Wylie's face. This time his expression was different.

Johns body began to tense. preparing to be attacked, or to attack if Wylie made a smart assed remark or even smirked. Without a doubt, John would deck him if he did!

He waited. Wylie took a deep breath and slowly let it out as his expression softened and his posture relaxed. John waited. Wylie finally smiled and John realized he was no longer in danger of Wylie attacking him. Still… he waited to hear Wylie's first words, then maybe he could relax.

Wylie said nothing. Instead he literally pulled John into his arms. John returned his embrace with equal fervor. After a moment of just being close, Wylie whispered in John's ear, "John, I understand why you ignored me. I felt exactly the same… afraid of my feelings. I'd do almost anything to keep from feeling that way. But your turning away from me hurt so badly. I would never make you feel like that. You've got to talk to me. We have to trust each other. John, you mean more to me than anyone I know."

Wylie's lips were so close to John's ear they caressed his sensitive flesh. His warm, moist breath tickled inside John's ear. John was unconsciously kneading Wylie's naked back as if to confirm his presence. He felt a pressure against his groin. Without thinking he shifted to accommodate it. When he realized it was Wylie's cock now throbbing against him, his own cock swelled in response. Both cocks throbbed at different rhythms, seeming to be having a conversation of their own.

To John it was only a moment. It was becoming more intense as the seconds ticked by. To John it was only a moment before Wylie suddenly released him as quickly as he had grabbed him. Jumping backward he slammed against the door.

Wylie’s actions confused John. He was enjoying the embrace. Why had it ended so rudely? He looked at Wylie questioningly. Wylie’s handsome face was contorted in extreme concentration. His eyes were clinched shut. His jaw set in fierce determination as beads of sweat erupted on his brow.

John’s eyes dropped to Wylie's crotch. Wylie's hard cock had escaped through the fly of his boxers and was throbbing angrily. He realized that Wylie was about to cum! Damn his cock was magnificent, so round and thick and long. A shiny drop of precum clung tenaciously to his cockhead. John watched as the drop lengthened with each throb. It mesmerized him. He wanted to touch it. He wondered if Wylie wanted him to!

He watched that single strand of precum twinkle in the morning light as Wylie’s cock throbbed again. The strand stretched toward the floor. Somewhere near the middle it separated. The lower part formed a droplet that was lost to his vision even before it hit the floor since his eyes were glued to Wylie’s massive manhood. His foreskin was partially retracted.

John memorized every pulsing vein. He felt his body lean forward, preparing to take a step and once again close the gap between them. It took all his restraint not to. Even as he fought the urge, Wylie's cock began to deflate. The foreskin began to once again cover the head. The strand of precum was sucked up by the foreskin. Only the original, single drop, renewed at the tip was visible.

John chided himself for feeling disappointed. He had been stupid and almost lost Wylie… uh, er… Wylie’s friendship. He would live happily with small disappointments. He would be a best friend. He would learn to trust. He would deal with the dreams. After all dreams are just dreams.

Once the danger of cumming had past, Wylie relaxed. John smiled and received a self conscious grin in return. To lighten the moment John chuckled, "Ok, I guess we are officially best friends."

Glancing down at his deflating manhood, Wylie mumbled, "Fuck, I gotta get a girlfriend."

John chuckled again, "First holster that weapon cowboy,” he said, pointing at Wylie’s, still impressive, quickly deflating manhood. “You could poke an eye out with that thing. Even morning wood can be dangerous around you. Now get dressed and get some breakfast with your best friend."

After lights out that night, neither young man seemed concerned that the sounds of masturbation might reach his roommate. In fact it seemed their sounds of pleasure spurred each other on. Silently they came almost simultaneously, then they fell asleep not having uttered a sound.

The next couple of days found them once again embracing their routine of classes, swimming, and studying, their evenings filled with food, beer, boxers and bed. Knowing that wounds take time to heal, they were overly considerate of each other.

John quickly learned that his dreams were affected by masturbation. If he jacked-off twice a day his dreams were romantic. If he failed to properly relieve himself his dreams would be hot and sweaty with eye to eye cumming that would wake up him up at the first spurt. He learned to appreciate and enjoy both kinds.

Friday night after the confrontation, John and Wylie walked a couple of blocks off campus for pizza and beer. Each had met a young lady and each had set up a date. After a little kissing and a few awkward gropes, the girls had left, leaving the boys horny, but hopeful.

John and Wylie had a few more beers. Okay, more than a few. They staggered back to the dorm. John entered the room, then decided he had to piss. Turning around, he bumped into Wylie who had just closed the door. They fell to the floor with Wylie on top of him. Like a horny rabbit he pumped his crotch against John's. Embarrassed, he moved to get up by lifting his body off John's. But John pulled him closer in an unrelenting grip. Wylie got the message and pushed again and again into John’s crotch making him moan. John released his grip so he could realign his dick to maximize his pleasure. Wylie wrapped his arms around John’s head, hugging him into the crook of his neck. John cupped and massaged Wylie's muscular ass, encouraging his humping. It didn’t take long until both had literally creamed their jeans.

Eventually Wylie rolled off John. He feigned sleep and made soft snoring sounds, John crawled to his bed and collapsed. He returned the favor, by faking a loud snore. Wylie crawled and sprawled on his own bed. Sleep did not come easy for either man. They lay still, filled with guilt, shame and elation.

The next morning, neither referred to the encounter. Their conversations centered around how drunk they had been and of course the girls, and the possibility of sex. Each stated they hadn’t had sex in a long time and were blue balls horny. Their routine of classes, food, swimming, study, then boxers, beer and bed was easily re-inaugurated. Their friendship was firmly re-established.

The following Friday they both had dates. Neither got 'lucky.’ Wylie was already in the room, in his boxers apparently “drunk,” and nursing a beer when John entered. As John undressed, he related his tale of woe. “The bitch teased me from the minute we got close. I had a hard on all night. Finally, she told me she doesn’t put out on the first date, so maybe tomorrow night I'll get lucky. I walked her back to her dorm and went to have some beers, maybe too many.” Wylie offered him a beer, and John grinned “Ah! What the hell, one more won‘t hurt."

Wylie then told him how his date made it clear from the git-go, he would not be ‘getting lucky.’ so he would have to continue the hunt.

They finished that round, while Wylie sat on his bed and John sprawled on the floor. Draining the final sip of his beer, John stretched and grabbed two more beers from the small fridge. He handed one to Wylie and resumed his sprawl.

John noticed that while he was speaking Wylie met his eyes, but when Wylie was speaking his focus dropped. At first, John figured he was just sleepy, but then while he was awaiting a reply from Wylie, he followed Wylie's lowered gaze and realized that his cock was hanging out of his fly. He immediately stuffed it back in his shorts, making Wylie laugh. John blushed.

Wylie, howled when he saw John red faced. Punctuated with guffaws, he said, "Great Gawwd! John, I thought that thing was coming after me. At first it was laying on top of your drawers. The next time I looked, the head was lying on the floor. I looked again and there was at least another inch on the floor. I figure, if you hadn't caught it by morning, I'd be fucked." By the time Wylie settled down, he was wiping away tears.

John countered weakly, “I told you, I had a hardon all night."

They went back to talking about the girls. John reached for another couple of beers and his cock escaped again. He waved it at Wylie in a threatening gesture, then put it away. Their speech was beginning to slur and at times was almost incoherent.

Wylie mumbled “I got to piss.”

Getting up, his foot got tangled in John’s long legs and he took a tumble.

John crawled around until he was face to face with him. In an equally drunken slur, he asked, “Wylie, you alright?”

In answer Wylie laughed, pulled John’s face to his and kissed him. John eagerly returned the kiss. Their tongues wrestled and explored, their hands sought and found their cocks. The race was on. Jacking and kissing the other, they moaned into each other’s mouths, and gasped for air. They came far too soon and covered each other in cum.

They collapsed side by side, silent, as their breathing calmed. Each lost in a daze of wonderment and guilt. Silently they fell asleep. Sometime in the night Wylie woke John. “Hey man, you passed out. Get in your bed.”

The next day it was as if nothing had happened outside a few too many beers. They talked about their dates, but said nothing about what had occurred. Yet Wylie dreamed and thought about John’s cock which was a solid seven inches, cut and thick while John did the same over Wylie’s which was over eight and thicker, with that extra skin that slid so easily over his cockhead. It was the biggest cock John had personally seen, and the first cock other than his own that he had ever touched. Even though he couldn’t talk about it to Wylie, he wanted to do it again.

So the stage was set. They would get drunk and hump or jerk each other off and then pretend to forget about it the next day.