Since I had been a sophomore at BU for like a month now, I felt like I owned the place. I knew BU. I knew Boston.
As a freshman, I'd been totally clueless. Of course!
Now, in my second year, I knew it all. It was time to start acting like an upper classman. Well sort of. Mostly, I was just a kid in a candy store. And for sure, when it came to important college activity, like sex in public, for example, I was definitely over my head. An amateur trying to find his way, in a group of professionals.
But, my brain forgot to mention this to my dick.
So, after practically an entire year here at BU, I was getting to know what I needed to know to get by. I knew the streets around the university so I could make my way to class since we didn't really have much of an actual campus. I knew the running paths along both sides of the Charles—as a member of the track team, this tended to be pretty important. And, since I sort of liked to eat, I sort of knew the restaurants in the area of Allston and Brighton, plus a few in Brookline and in Back Bay too (not that I could actually afford to go to either of those fancier parts of town very often).
When it came to hooking up, I was getting to know all the good secret spots around the U where I could find good looking guys.
As usual, my dick didn't particularly care how public or how safe or how filthy the place was. Just so it's very simple needs got met. When my dick had these little internal debates with my brain, it was obvious who would win. Once I'd seen cops walking into a particularly skeevy bathroom just as I was about to shoot a huge load into a very nice Brazilian boy who was sucking me off.
My weenie got soft in like a nanosecond. And I almost fainted as all the blood rushed out of it and back into my body. But, I was back in that same disgusting men's room like three days later, praying that Mr. Brazil would show up again and finish what he started. After waiting around like two hours (well, maybe just 90 minutes, actually), I finally left since I had to study for a mid-term. And I took like a half hour shower that night, trying to scrub off the grime I was sure I'd collected after waiting in that bathroom.
But, of course my dick dragged me back again. I can't believe I didn't catch scurvy, or cholera, or malaria or something.
When I had a few hours between classes and didn't have to sweat through some big paper, I'd grown pretty fond of one particular bathroom in the basement of the divinity building. It was dirty too, but somehow knowing that Godly things were happening upstairs made up for it. That john was pretty notorious for guys taking religion classes to hang out, usually without their collars though. There were little holes behind the toilet paper things (probably created by male students, not the man upstairs). The holes were just big enough so that you could see through to the next stall if you moved the paper dispenser out of the way. Unfortunately, the little spaces in the walls of the stalls had sharp edges, and if you weren't careful, you cock could be cut to shreds.
I don't think the BU janitorial staff had actually set foot into the basement bathroom since sometime in the 1970's. Maybe they thought God would clean up, I don't know.
Anyway, the place was sort of crude and holy and smelly and exciting all at the same time! I became a regular.
And there was another men's room that my dick was fond of too. It was up on the second floor of the Student Union and it had bigger holes between a few of the stalls. You could actually get your entire dick sucked without worrying about gangrene. Or, if one was so inclined, you could suck somebody else's dick.
Generally I was so inclined, but I still found it a little weird to have a dick in my throat where I had no idea what the guy on the other side of the wall looked like. So I only sucked the nice looking dicks, not the ones that looked a little funny.
The student union bathrooms were a tiny bit cleaner, but they were a little on the dangerous side. There were constantly guys coming in to just use the bathroom while just a few of us were there for alternative purposes.
On the other hand, my brain reminded me that most of the guys who came in and out of that particular men's room must have known exactly what they were getting themselves into. I mean, how could you not? Some guys who were way braver than me wouldn't even stop giving head when somebody fresh walked in; they just keep sucking away.
Still, despite all the risks, and all the crazy smells, the bathrooms at BU were always good for a quick tug when I had time. I suppose that I could have jerked myself off back in my dorm room when Alan wasn't around. But what fun would that have been?
I remember one time a guy with red hair and an extremely long and extremely white dick actually crawled under the wall of the stall to come into mine. It was a total turn-on to be actually seeing the entire guy and still be in a public bathroom! The guy also had extremely red pubic hair, by the way. Anyway, once he got into my stall, what we figured out was that one of us had to sort of crouch down on the toilet seat so that if somebody was looking under the wall of our stall they wouldn't be able to see two people, that there wouldn't be able to see two sets of feet on the ground. In case somebody came into the head and they decided to count feet, of course.
Who does that?
So even though I absolutely, positively had to get off, I couldn't. It was just too exciting and too scary all at once. This particular guy was new and I hadn't seen him around campus before. And, he was kind of hot, you know, in a red-headed Irish guy sort of way.
My brain started to hum 'Oh Danny boy' as he was sucking on my Johnson with his red Irish lips. And then, for maybe the first time in history, my brain won. My dick doesn't lose many, but that day was not my day. In the end, his dick was probably just too white and his pubes were probably just too shocking red. The whole Irish thing just sort of distracted me. His handsome green eyes looked a little sad when I started to get soft. I had been hard at first—all eight and a third inches practically poking a hole in the back of the poor guy's Irish throat, but then.....disaster struck and I completely lost my boner.
I pulled up my jeans, picked my backpack off of the dirty floor and headed back out into the real world. I'm sure I was as red as him when I closed the stall door behind me.
A few days later I bumped into him in the line at Starbuck's on Comm Ave. I wasn't exactly sure what the right thing to say was. But I was still embarrassed so I apologized. He looked at me like he didn't recognize me and said nothing. He ordered a non-fat latte with a dash of hazel nut.
Hmm, I wonder if that was code for something.
After bumping into him a couple more times walking between classes, and having him continue to totally ignore me and totally give me attitude, I finally started to catch on. Oh! So that's how this game goes. All right then. I could play along with the 'I never saw you before' game too.
All the same, I made a personal note that if I found him in a campus bathroom again, I would give him the best blow job of his life. Not matter if the campus cops were banging the dammed door down while I did. Of course, I'd have to close my eyes while I inhaled his cock. I didn't want to get freaked out by how pale and while his long cock was.
I know, I know. Call me shallow.
But, for those times when I was feeling a little bit more adventurous, and didn't want to have to endure the smells of a men's room, there was always the library.
The truly bat-shit crazy could have sex in the stacks, when just about anybody looking for a weird book could walk right up and catch you. Mr. Dick had no problem with that, of course, but Mr. Brain finally won that debate.
I'd heard about a conference room on the fourth floor of the library that always seemed to have an unlocked door so that it could be used to hook up. Somebody very helpful with a black marker had written a very clear description on one of my favorite bathroom stalls in the Divinity Building.
So, 19-year old pervert that I had become, I decided to check it out. Mr. Brain liked this plan, of course, since it meant that I could study too.
In the afternoons, when I didn't have class, I'd park myself in a strategically placed study carrel and open up a notebook. I'd watch and learn.
It took a couple days of careful observation, but eventually I figured out what you were supposed to do in there. It seemed that if the light was on under the door, that meant that the door was locked and you (or somebody else who was hot and knew the rules) should go in. After somebody went in, the light went off. The light then stayed that way until the two guys came out, separated by a minute or so, to try and confuse anybody who might be watching the door, of course. Clever. But I was the master sex detective and I was onto them.
Eventually, Mr. Dick could stand it no longer and we decided to give the conference room a try.
After a particularly long and dreadful Chemistry class, I scrambled up to the fourth floor of the library and grabbed my usual study carrel. I did a little studying and waited for somebody to go into the conference room that maybe I could deal with.
It took forever! I even got my homework done! Over the course of a couple hours I had to watch a few little sexual trysts run their course before Mr. Right finally walked in.
Mr. Penis took immediate notice when the light was left on and shone from under the door!
In this case, the Mr. Right who walked into the conference room on the fourth floor was tall and black and pretty fucking good looking! He had short-cropped dark hair, and he had on some wire-rimmed glasses. Nice! He had a nice face, and he sort of looked like a good kisser. Well, at least I hoped to find out!
I spit-combed my hair with my hand, moved my wiener from right to left (it shows better that way) and tucked my wallet into my back pocket. Not that I had anything valuable in it anyhow; I think I was down to like seven dollars. I left my books on the carrel, thinking that I'd just get back to studying when I was done having a very nice blow job from Mr. Right.
When I opened the door, the guy was standing with his back against the far wall, reading something from his notebook. He smiled when he saw me come in. His teeth were startlingly white in contrast with the darker color of his skin. He put his notebook down on the table and walked over to the door. He wedged a chair under the door knob and flipped off the light.
Instantly, everything in the room was pitch black. I stood frozen in one spot; it was sort of scary being in here with a stranger, nice rimmed glasses or not, who I had no idea what he had in mind for me.
Mr. Brain was screaming: "Oh fuck, we're gonna die here!" Mr. Dick was urging me to grab to forget about all that and just grab the other guy's crotch immediately.
While I broke into a sweat working all of this out, Mr. Right moved. A hand touched me lightly on the shoulder and I jumped like three feet into the air.
"Easy tiger," he said with a little laugh. He had a nice voice; he certainly didn't sound like an psychopathic killer.
"Uh, it's dark," I said.
"Um hmm, got a problem with that?"
"Uh, only if you're gonna kill me," I said, half joking.
He laughed again. If he was smiling, I couldn't see his teeth in the darkness. If he even had teeth.
"Nope, but I am gonna rock your world," he said in a voice, trying to reassure me.
"Ha ha," I said. "Rock my world, that's funny."
In one quick motion, he unbuttoned my pants and dragged them down over my hips.
Whoa! That was fast. Mr. Dick felt the cool air on his backside, up at the top, where the bases peeked out of my shorts. I shivered.
"Uh," I said, "Is this...you know, is this...?" I stammered.
"Your lucky day?" he finished my sentence for me. Only that's not exactly what I had been meaning to say.
"Um, well yeah, you know, is this my lucky day?"
He exhaled in a sigh before responding.
His hands were on my hips, inside my underwear. I think I was shaking; I still hadn't decided yet if this was a very good idea. If he could get my pants down from my hips with one simple swipe, he could probably cut my throat in like half a second. He could kill me and dump my body behind the stacks and nobody would find me until spring when the cleaning staff finally showed up on the fourth floor.
"It is your lucky day if you like black dick. Big, that is. Big black dick."
"Um well, I do, I guess, I mean. Yes. I do. Definitely. I definitely like black dick, big black dick. Who doesn't?"
"Good, glad to hear it."
"I like it much better than being killed."
He laughed again.
And then something bit my nipple and I jumped out of my skin.
"Fuck!" I whispered.
"You bit my nipple, right?"
"Yes, that was me. We're the only two in here."
"Well it scared the crap out of me."
"You get scared when somebody bites your nipple?"
"What? No, I like it. I mean, it's just that, um... Well, I wasn't expecting you to, you know..."
"Do you want to bite my nipple? We'll call it even."
"I don't know. I mean, yes I guess."
"Good," he said.
"Only I don't know where it is. It's dark in here! I don't really know where you are," I said.
"I'm right here..."
"Well fuck; I just can't see a dammed thing. I'm sorry. But I don't know where your nipple is. Or you for that matter!" I said, restating the obvious.
"I turned the light off. That's what you're supposed to do in here."
"Um, yeah, I guess. But, you know, you're black."
"Yes. Always have been. I was born that way. Clearly you're a college boy, smart."
I giggled nervously. What a smart ass!
"Yeah, well, it's sort of not easy to see you in the dark," I said.
"I know. I can't really see you either."
"But you found my nipple."
"Just got lucky. I took a shot in the dark."
Now we both laughed.
"So, are you gonna stay way over there? Or do we get started. I have a class to teach in 45 minutes."
"You're a professor here?"
"No, not yet. I'm just an associate. I'm not tenured or anything, I'm trying to get a full time job."
"I don't think that this would look too good on your resume."
"You mean, having sex with you in the library?"
"Thanks for the tip; I won't put it on my resume then."
I giggled quietly. This guy was pretty funny.
"That's great," I said, bring the conversation back round to his employment status. "What department are you in?"
"Do you really want to have this discussion right now?"
"Or do you want to get your cock sucked?"
"Um, well you're right. I don't think I really need to know all of that stuff. At least not right now."
"Good. Come back over here please."
I took a few steps back in the direction of his voice. At least I think I walked in the direction of his voice. It was so dark; I had to rely on my other senses. I could actually sort of smell him. So I followed my nose. He smelled like Zest. Or Dove. Or one of those soaps that my parents had at home.
As I got closer to him, I could feel the heat from his body. But I still couldn't see anything. I could smell him and I could feel this warmth. Then he reached out his hands again and grabbed hold of me. His hands wrapped around my waist and drew me in. They felt soft and warm. Mr. Dick was all in. Mr. Brain wasn't so sure.
"Whoa," I said.
"Nothing, I just wasn't expecting..."
"Are you always like this when you have sex?"
"I don't know. It's just weird doing it like this. You know, in total darkness."
"Plus I'm black. And that doesn't help."
"What? Right. I mean, no. I didn't say that. I mean..."
He put his fingers on my lips and shushed me. His other hand on my waist pulled me in closer. Our bodies touched. He was a rock. His abs were tight. His waist was lean and firm. His legs were solid.
"Wow," I said.
"Yeah, I'll say. What do you do to stay in such good shape?"
"Really? You still want to talk? I do Martial Arts."
"Really, that's really interesting."
He sighed heavily.
"No, I'll shut up," I said. "I won't say another word. Promise."
His mouth found mine in the darkness and his lips sucked me completely up inside of him.
We kissed like this for what seemed like forever. I kept my eyes open, hoping to see something. He was a fantastic kisser, just like I'd thought before when I watched him walk into the conference room. Making out with him got my dick completely hard. Despite my shorts, he noticed. And then he reached a hand down to cup the shaft of my dick with his palm.
"Very nice," he said.
"Thanks," I started to say before his mouth surrounded mine again.
He slid a hand inside of tighty whities (I still had like two pair. I mostly wore them only in emergencies, like when I hadn't done laundry in a while.)
His hand was way bigger than my dick, and this shocked me so I pulled my mouth away from his to start up the conversation again.
"I just can't believe how big your hand is," I said.
"I thought you said that you weren't going to talk anymore," he said.
"Yeah, I know, but..."
He slid my underwear down my legs and my dick sprang free. A few drops of pre-cum splattered us both. He wrapped his hand around my dick and swallowed up my balls too. Man!
"What?" I said.
As he stroked my cock, he didn't have to move his hand very much. He kissed me harder and I got lost inside of his mouth. One of his fingers found my butthole and he pressed against it.
"Ahh," I said into his throat.
I tried to wriggle my arms free and get a hold of his dick. Anybody with hands like this has got to have a dick of death. And he did. I felt puny next to him.
Finally he pulled his face away from mine. I inhaled deeply of the air. And got a major whiff of Dove.
He bit my nipple again. I jumped again.
"Fuck." I said again, this time not in a whisper.
"What's with you?"
"I don't know, this usually doesn't happen," I said.
"Good. You're not supposed to leap across the room when somebody touches your chest."
"Yeah, I know. Don't worry, I'll be okay. You can do it again if you want to."
He paused and had another heavy sigh. "Nope. Don't think I will."
"You heard me. I don't think I will. I don't think I will go anywhere near your chest again."
I was hurt.
"Well, that's okay, I mean, you don't have to," I said.
"But I do mean to your penis in my mouth. That okay?"
"Yeah, sure, that's okay."
"Good. Here goes. I'm bending down now."
"Thanks for the warning."
As he went down on my, a finger popped into my ass. After the slam-fest I'd had recently with my two roommates, I was still a tiny bit on the sore side. But his thick finger slipped in pretty easily all the same.
"Whoa," I said, involuntarily.
Immediately he stood up. As he did, his finger came out of my butthole.
"What are you doing?" I said.
"I think this isn't gonna work," he said.
"What are you talking about? I haven't even seen your dick yet. I mean, I haven't even touched it yet."
"I don't think it's gonna happen. I have to teach soon."
"You're like. I don't know. You're too jumpy."
"I'm sorry. I'll stop. Really. I will."
"Plus you talk too much."
"I can stop that too," I said.
I groped in the darkness for the top button of his pants. It took way longer than it should have, but finally I found it. I pulled hard to open it up, but he stopped me by putting his hand on the top of his pants.
"What? Why can't I?"
"TJ, just stop."
I stopped. He knows who I am. Uh oh!
"TJ. You called me TJ. How do you know my name?"
Oh fuck. Now I've done it. Now he knows I know. Now he filets me open like a trout and spreads my insides all over the 4th floor of the library. Behind the Anthropology books.
"Seriously. How do you know who I am?"
If I'm really gonna die now. Without getting a blow job. Well then I'd better keep the guy talking, maybe Mr. Brain would think of something.
I reached down for my underwear to pull them up. It probably wouldn't be a good idea for me to be found dead and to have my pants down around my ankles! I could just see the headline in the local paper back home in Apple Valley!
"All right, just forget it. Maybe you should just tell me your name. Professor..."
He didn't say anything.
"I mean, after all, you know mine. It seems only fair, right?"
Maybe if he tried to kill me but didn't quite finish the job, I could speak his name to the police with one of my last breaths.
"You weren't supposed to know," he said finally.
"What? Are you fucking kidding me? What are you talking about? What wasn't I supposed to know?"
I found my pants all tangled up around my legs and struggled to get them up and over my hard dick. Sad, I know, but I was still hard as a rock. Even in the face of death. Mr. Brain was clearly no match.
"That this was a set up."
"Someone you know set this up."
"That's crazy talk," I said.
Who do I know that would set me up to get killed? I thought quickly, I didn't think I had any enemies.
Well, actually there was that one time. That time when I had sex during a track meet last year with a guy named Jeff (or was it Jack?). Jeff told me he had a jealous boyfriend.
Naw! That was like months ago.
"Crazy? I'd say it was nice. I'd say that your friend was doing you a favor, TJ."
"A favor? You're mean you're not here to kill me?"
"Seriously? TJ? Are you really freaking saying that? You're really thinking that you're in this conference room on the fourth floor of the library to die and not have sex with me? Really? Come on!"
"TJ, we're done. I gotta go teach my class."
"Listen, a good friend of yours is in one of my study sections. I'm not going to tell you who it is, but, well, of course, he knew I was gay. And he knows you are too."
"So, somehow he knows you've been hanging out here at the library on this floor. Sort of stalking this room."
So, he thought that you and I might like each other, that's it!"
"He asked me if I would come up here and smoke your joint. He said you were a pretty nice guy and that we would like each other. But..."
"But, what about....?"
"TJ, something is seriously wrong with you. We're supposed to be getting it on. Getting down on each other's dicks. Your friend said you're packing. Eight and a third inches or something like that, right? However the fuck you measure that third of an inch, I have no earthly idea. But whatever! That's a pretty prodigious piece of meat. Well, the truth is, I'm packing too. I've got my own version of eight and a third inches...or so...but you know what?"
My mouth was open, and there was a stirring down below in my shorts. All that Mr. Dick heard was the length of this guy's cock, and Mr. Brain hadn't caught on yet.
"I'm outta' here. See ya'."
He moved the chair out of the way and opened the door. Light from the library flooded in.
"History," he said.
All I saw was his back side, but even that was awfully cute. The guy had a fantastic body.
"I do History, your friend is in a class I teach," his voice trailed off as the door shut behind him.
History? Oh, the History department. That's where he's trying to get a position. Huh. I made a mental note to take a History class next semester.
Or maybe I shouldn't.
I don't know. When the door closed it was dark in the room again. Fuck! And I sort of still had a hard on.
I buttoned my pants and got the heck out of there in like three seconds. I was back at my study carrel with my head in a Biology book in about six seconds. I took a deep breath. Maybe if I get busy trying to learn what makes a frog tick, I'll be able to put the whole sorry episode out of my mind. What an idiot I am!
For the rest of the afternoon studying was hopeless. I had to figure out who set me up with the History guy. Who knew that I was stalking this conference room in the library? I hadn't told Josh, or any of my other roommates. I hadn't told any of the guys on the team.
I had no idea!
The next day I went for a ten mile run with Josh along the river, all the way to Watertown. When we got back to the gym I was rubbing down my poor tired legs and didn't even see Josh strip down and jog off to the showers. It was late and he must have taken one of the world's fastest showers on record. He got out of there in like two minutes; I was still in my jock.
My legs really ached!
I think Josh explained to me where he was going, but my mind didn't really register it. I don't really remember. Being in a locker room, even one that's practically abandoned late in the day, always put my cock in charge. My brain was sort of on auto-pilot and just along for the ride.
I was still peeling off my socks when I discovered that I was not all alone in the locker room. Way, way off in the distance, I could hear that distinctive low whine of water running through a pipe.
Somebody was taking a shower. Yay! I listened again. It sounded like it might be coming from the coach's showers. In the far side of the gym, there was a little section that was set aside for the coaches and managers from all sports. They had bigger lockers over there, and there was sort of this funny twisty way you had to walk through a bunch of locker rows just to find it.
Mere students, like me, were supposed to shower in the main area and not really trespass into the forbidden zone reserved for the elite. But, of course, most of the guys from the track team looked awfully good naked so I had no objection and I showered with everybody else. And, to be honest, most of our coaches from track couldn't be bothered to have to walk way across the building just to clean up in their special reserved section, so they just showered with the rest of us. Plus, they probably thought that by getting nude and showering with us underclassmen, it would be good for team bonding. Our coaches were hot, so again, I had no objection.
But I heard water running, so, like a moth drawn to a flame, I wrapped a towel around my waist and headed off in search of it.
It took me a while and I made a couple of wrong turns but I finally found the coach's showers. I hadn't ever been over here before so I wasn't totally sure what they were like.
When I got close enough and saw the source of the running water, I smiled. There were actually two showers running.
The coach's shower room was sort of retro, with real tile on the walls in a pretty pattern. The tile was yellow, and it actually looked clean! They didn't have formal dividers between the shower stalls, just sort of a little bump where the wall jutted out like a foot. Basically, you were in this big room where everybody showered together. The only thing you wouldn't be able to see in the shower stall right next to you was maybe the handle of the faucet. Cool.
I chose a stall directly across from the two men already there. They were next to each other, but both had their backs turned toward me, so I wasn't sure which coaches they were.
I tried to act like my being in this special section of the locker room was the most natural thing in the world.
I hoped my face looked like I was older, but that wasn't too likely. I still got mistaken for a junior high kid on occasion!
I turned to face the wall too, squirted some shampoo from the dispenser into my hand and set to work on my head. While the lather was running down my eyes, I thought I'd be brave and turn around.
The shampoo got in my eyes and burned them, but it was definitely worth it!
Guy number one, on the left, was a coach all right. It was Dyson Marshall. Actually Dyson Marshall, III.
Everybody knew Coach Marshall. He was one of the assistants from the Lacrosse team, but more importantly he was also the son of the university president. And like way hot too! Dyson Marshall III always seemed to be in the school paper, either because the Lacrosse team beat the crap out of somebody, or maybe because he was related to the big boss. Or most likely, just because we was just so incredibly good looking. A total New England blue-blood, but totally cute at the same time!
Coach Marshall on the short side, about 5'7" I'd say. But, he more than made up for that by having this very cut, very hot body. I'd seen him running along the river a couple of times and almost tripped over my feet as I went past. He had short, dark brown hair and very tight features. I'd estimate that he had approximately 0% body fat. I'd actually jerked off in my own bed thinking about the guy. Twice!
And now Dyson Marshall III was showering just a few feet away from me.
He had no hair on his chest, and just a dusting of it around his pubes. He probably had servants who were paid to remove it for him. And he was sort of pretty soaped up, so it was hard to get a good sense of his dick, partly because my eyes were on fire, but I was pretty sure that was not a flaccid dick.
Guy number two was my red-head from the bathroom, with all the attitude. And he was pretty soaped up too but there was no mistaking what he had going on below the waist. He was uncircumcised and you could see the little half head peeking out from his sleeve of foreskin.
And, he was almost totally hard!
I'm pretty sure the two of them must have thought that my eyes were closed since I had lather all over my face. After all, who would be so stupid to open their eyes when there was shampoo dripping down?
Well, me actually.
So anyway, they probably thought I hadn't actually seen anything—the hardening wiener of Dyson Marshall III, or even my favorite red-head from one of my BU bathroom adventures.
I turned back around quickly to face the faucet on my wall.
About a nanosecond later, as the water ran down my face and the stinging in my eyes got a little bit better, my cock got heavier and stretched out. That didn't take long. I hadn't even laid a hand on it! Uh oh, here we go, I thought.
I had to think. I needed a little time. What exactly did one do in this particular situation?
For the next few minutes, I made a huge deal about washing my rear end, over and over again. And, of course, I steered way clear of my dick. I used so much soap on my butt that I made this gigantic mountain of lather between my cheeks that fell in little splats onto the tile floor.
If the two of them were watching me, they must have thought now had the cleanest backside in Boston! Which, of course, was a matter of debate.
It had been like five minutes of butt-scrubbing when I finally got up the courage to turn around again. This time with no soap on my face and I got a clear view of Dyson Marshall III and Mr. Red-Head with the Attitude.
They were both stroking their dicks with soap and they were both totally hard.
The tip of Dyson's cock was bright red. From where I stood, I guessed it to be somewhere in the six to seven inch department. I'd already seen the redhead's dick up close and personal. It was still shockingly white but also had sort of a red tint out on the end. It was bigger and fatter than Dyson's.
Of course I had a hard-on too. At first Dyson didn't notice me, but the other guy did. He cleared his throat in a quiet little 'ahem' and Dyson looked up.
Dyson smiled. The red haired guy did too, but not quite so much.
Taking my cue, I squirted a little soap into my hand and began stroking the shaft of my cock. Just like they were doing.
For about a minute or so, the three of us worked our meat. Dyson Marshall III on his 6-7 incher. The guy with red hair and attitude on his 7 plus incher. And me on my eight and a third incher. It was a totally hot scene. Just like I'd imagined it in like a million or so of my greatest jerk-off fantasies.
We all kept half an eye on each other and half an eye on the entrance to the shower area. I'm not sure who we were exactly hoping would not come in, but we all kept up the vigil all the same. I was pretty certain that in the year or so that I'd been taking showers in the gym at BU I had never seen a single campus cop patrolling around.
So we kept beating off.
And looking at each other.
Finally, Dyson moved a little bit closer to the other guy. He responded in turn by moving closer to Dyson.
Oh my god! They were going to actually touch each other! Dyson Marshall III was about to actually touch another guy's weenie! Right in front of me! Holy fucking crap!
Without any warning, I came. Just like that!
My little squirt of sperm shot like three feet away from me and made a straight line of white.
My two companions looked at me with funny grins. I turned beet red. What a time for me to get over-excited! Fuck, fuck, fuck!
After a moment of so, Dyson smiled a little bigger. He looked down at my load and then back up at me. He gave me an almost imperceptible nod.
I exhaled. Whew. A nod of approval.
Me cumming a little prematurely was apparently okay with him. I had just spooged in front of Dyson Marshall III and that was just fine. I stopped tugging on my cock and gave my balls a tug instead. Kind of by habit.
Dyson looked over at the red-haired guy and moved right next to him. He was totally out of the stream of his water now. As I watched closely, the other guy grabbed Dyson's dick. I took in a little quick breath and looked down at my penis. Sadly I was getting softer. But, but, I wanted to be grabbing some Dyson dick.
So, for the next five minutes, I watched my red-headed guy give Dyson an awesome blow job. A little masturbating. A little sucking off.
After a few more slurps from the red-head, Dyson's face contorted in a half twist. His abs tightened. And he blew a few drops of cum out from the top of his cockhead. Some landed on the other guy's cheek, and a little bit just kind of hung there, in mid-air, dangling from the end of Dyson's hard-on. Dyson looked over at me and I repeated the process of looking down at Dyson's load and then back up to his face. Finally I smiled, just like I'd seen him do with me. I tried to seem like I approved.
Which I definitely did.
Now there was only one of us left. Dyson and I looked at each other again, then back at the red-haired guy, whose ghostly white dick still poked upward. Dyson gave me a little head tilt, indicating that I should come on over and help him out to get the redhead off.
My eyes looked over at the other guy for a moment. Would it be okay?
For a moment the red-haired guy paused like he was thinking over some great dilemma. There was an uncomfortable pause as Dyson's dick began to droop. Mine even drooped a bit while the other guy thought over whether or not I was going to be allowed anywhere near his private parts. Finally, he smiled and nodded. He touched his index finger to his lips and then looked down at his boner. I took this to mean that I was to come over there and suck his dick.
As I have previously explained, I am always very agreeable. So I did.
I turned off my water and headed across to the other side. I got down on one knee and reached up for the long white weenie. But he stopped me. He grabbed my wrist and held it about three inches away from my goal. Dyson watched us. The redhead looked over at Dyson and made the same signal with his index finger on his lips. So Dyson turned off his water too and joined me on the floor.
When Dyson was in position, the red-haired guy finally released my wrist and allowed me to take hold of his dick. Dyson moved his head in close and the two of us met lips at the tip of the guy's cock. I let Dyson take the lead and he put his lips all the way around the fat head. I used my tongue on the bottom side of the shaft. Dyson pulled on the guy's balls and I put mine on his ass, my fingers digging lightly for the crease. While Dyson gave him head, I kept everything nicely lubed up with my tongue. Then we switched. I moved into a spot where I could get most of the guy's penis in my mouth and Dyson took up the licking. A few minutes later, Mr. Attitude lost control and really got into it. A couple of times, Dyson and I just jerked the shaft back and forth and managed a full-mouth kiss just between the two of us. Every time we did that I could feel Dyson's cool breath against the back of my throat and somehow that got my dick hard again.
While me and Dyson sucked off the redhead, Dyson reached over and found my cock. I had just gotten off but I was rock solid and erect already. Dyson smiled when he realized this. I grabbed for his dick too, but it didn't seem to have any life left. But I kept up stroking him all the same.
Oh my god, I was actually jacking off Dyson Marshall III!
Well, not exactly jacking him off, but you know, rubbing him up and down all the same while we both willed him to get harder.
Kissing Dyson was amazing.
He had a pretty small mouth, and really tight lips. It sort of felt like he was spring-loaded and tied up with rubber bands. But he was a really nice kisser and had very small but perfectly straight teeth. I'm sure that the university president had spent a fortune on Dyson's teeth!
Soon, kissing Dyson and man-handling his cock became much more important to me than sucking off the red-haired guy with attitude. Dyson seemed to appreciate that I had much more interest in him than in the other guy so after a while, Dyson and I just kept our mouths locked together. Meanwhile, Dyson stroked the red-head's cock with one hand, mine with the other. I pulled absently on the red-head's nut sack. Way up above us, I don't think he really noticed anyway; he was sort of lost in his own little world, trying hard to get off.
When the red-haired guy finally shot his load, it was pretty unimpressive. Dyson was at the helm for the final moment since I was too busy trying to get Dyson hard and concentrating on trying to get his entire mouth inside of mine.
We both looked up at the red-headed guy after he had cum. Dyson still had a fistful of sperm so he put it under the warm shower water from above to rinse it off. While he did, the red-haired guy turned off the water and abruptly left.
Dyson and I were still on the floor on one knee when he did. When we found ourselves alone, and Dyson still had sticky cum on his hand, we both smiled. True the red-haired guy was hot, but what a jerk!
Dyson stood up and turned the water back on. I joined him under the water. We kissed standing up. Dyson washed his hand off with a little help from me to get rid of a last few stringy bits. I was now completely erect, raring to go. There was a little extra something in Dyson's cock too. As we kissed some more, he got harder and harder.
It took about another half an hour for the two of us to finish up with our second orgasm of the afternoon. Well maybe it was evening by now.
When it was done, we walked back to Dyson's locker in the coach's section. He plugged my cell phone number into his cell and promised to call me the next day. I grinned to myself as I thought of Josh high-tailing it out of there after we'd gotten back from our long run. He'd missed out on a fantastic public fuck!
Too bad for him. Pretty fucking good for me.