Two Freshman

Vincent lived just one floor below me, and we took the stairs.  I stopped us on the landing to wrap my hands around his ass and squeeze them as I pulled him to me.  He giggled softly as I kissed his neck.  His Adam’s apple bounced as he did.  I hadn’t been turned on by them in the past, but something about the way his prominent apple moved on that long slender neck made me want to rub my crotch against his thigh.

I pulled away from him and studied the way his hair made a little shelf at the top of his forehead after he pushed it back with his fingers. Would I still find it fascinating next week, next month, next year? How about twenty years from now? Would he even have hair in twenty years? Would it matter? Not if he was still looking at me the way he was now.

“Come on, someone will catch us.” His statement surprised me. I was sure that he was out or at least didn’t care if anyone knew. Of course, I wasn’t really out either. Vincent took my hand and pulled me down the stairs. He let go as we went into the hall. I followed him to his room.

“Where’s your roommate?” I asked.

“He doesn’t want me to tell anyone.”

“A mystery,” I chuckled and grabbed his hips. “I know how to make you talk.”

“Talk or moan?”

“You’re quick,” I said. “You changed the subject on me.” I pulled him closer and then ran my fingers through the hair above his left ear. “I appreciate your not telling me what your roommate is doing. I think that shows good character.”

“Well, I promised.” He drew me to one of the beds. “And you promised…” He stretched out with his head on his pillow. “Lay with me.”

I slid in next to him. “When we were on the stairs, and I looked at you, I could see you as an old man. And I could see myself there with you.”

“You’re a romantic, Mark. We’ve just met. You’re incredibly sexy, but we don’t know one another, not really.”

“I know we’ve just met, but the feelings I have, they’re so strong. I’m just saying that they are so strong that I can see them lasting, growing.”

“So, you’re ready to settle down with just one guy?”

“If he’s the right guy. I’ve been ready since the first time I realized I liked guys. I’ve been looking for him ever since.”

“I hadn’t planned on looking for my guy until after college,” Vincent put his hand on my chest.

“I’m not saying that you are my guy, Vincent, but I am saying that you could be. I see it as a possibility. There are lots of cute and sexy guys out there, but I haven’t met one yet that I see as a possibility. Do you understand what I mean?”

“I do, but I don’t see you that way. I just see a guy who’s nice, who’s sexy, who’s a great kisser. I really want you to fuck me. I think we’d have a great time. I just don’t see us being more than friends. In fact, I can see that we’d be really good friends.” His hand moved down to my crotch. “We can work on our technique and get our rocks off at the same time.”

This time, my dick didn’t respond to his touch. I was so disappointed that he couldn’t see a possibility for us, and that’s all I wanted, for him to see the possibility. I sat up on the bed.

“I guess this means we’re not going to fuck at midnight.”

“Huh?”

Vincent sat up next to me and put his arm on my shoulder. “You know, it’ll be tomorrow at midnight.”

“Vincent, you’re too nice of a guy for me to use you, just have a place to come in, and I don’t want you to fuck me knowing that you’re just using me for sex. If you want to watch more ‘Twilight Zone,’ just let me know, but we won’t do it side-by-side on the bed. I just can’t.”

The lock from the door clicked, and the door opened.

“Jackson, I didn’t think you were coming…" started Vincent. "Whoa, what happened to your arm?”

I stood up. Jackson had a sling holding his right hand to his chest. I recognized him from my ‘Introduction to Digital Computations’ class.

“Dislocated shoulder,” he said. “I have to keep it from moving as much as possible for a week.” He nodded toward me. “I know you from somewhere.”

“Mark Bailey. We have that seven o’clock class on Mondays and Wednesdays,” I replied.

“Seven o’clock is too fucking early for me.”

“Hey,” said Jackson. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“It’s OK,” I replied. “I was heading back up to my room. I’ll stop by on Monday about six-forty-five and help you carry your stuff to class since we’ll both be going to the same one. Keep that arm safe.” I moved toward the door.

“Hey, thanks in advance for Monday. That’s really nice of you.”

“Yeah,” said Vincent. “Mark’s a nice guy.”

I closed the door behind me. Christmas was still three months away. We only owned one Christmas album back home, and memories of staring into the lights of the house across the street while the album played filled my head. I could hear Brenda Lee singing in my ear ‘Christmas Will Be Just Another Lonely Day.’

I went back to my room and sulked in the hall until midnight. When I entered my dorm room, I found Hawk asleep with his naked slut wrapped in his arm. I crawled into bed and promised myself that I would keep looking. I knew lots of guys would be looking for hook-ups and one-nighters, but not me. My someone was out there.

Mid-terms came and went, and I had dated a few guys from one of the campus gay clubs, but no one piqued my interest. I found a regular study companion in Jackson. It turned out that we had three classes together, and while our math and computer classes were easy for the most part. Neither of us could figure out what the Freshman English class professor wanted from us. We were told that we weren’t considering the human condition, we needed more emotion and less science, and, the real kicker, logic without compassion will result in the downfall of humanity.

I went to my counselor to complain that I wasn’t being taught how to write, I was just being criticized for what I wrote. His advice was to ride it out. So far, I had a passing grade, and it would likely stay that way. He reminded me that I would have a chance to skewer the guy on my evaluation of the class.

I walked out of the counselor’s office to find Jackson waiting for me.

“How’d it go?”

I rolled my eyes. “I want to stuff my face with a pie, custard pie.”

“Watch it. You’ll get a belly. We do too much sitting around reading to indulge ourselves on dessert.” He chuckled. “We still have half the semester to go.”

“Have you finished the programming assignment that’s due on Monday?”

Jackson smirked. “Finished on Wednesday and already submitted.”

“That’s nice. I submitted mine this morning; I figured I’d have to help you with this one, too, so I cleared my schedule for this weekend.” I smirked back.

“Arrogant bastard.”

“Are you going out tonight?” I knew that Jackson’s Friday nights were spent working. He had been very discreet about his job. Without saying it, he’d led people to believe that he was on dates with his girlfriend Rhonda. I had seen them eating lunch together earlier in the semester.

“Yeah. I’ve got plans.”

I waited.

“You watching something with Vincent?”

That was his way of changing the subject. He did it every time, and a few days before, I had discovered why. Earlier in the week, Carl Ledbetter told me that Jackson worked at a gay strip club.

“I went in with a couple of guys last Friday, and I see him doing this… well, performing, I guess, with what looked like a raging hardon and tons of dollars sticking out of his underwear. I asked the waiter about him, and he told me that he’d been working there since the summer except for when he was attacked by a drunk and hurt his arm. He also told me to pick another guy.”

“Pick another guy?”

Carl laughed. “Yeah, it seems that some of the dancers give blowjobs or get fucked in the back for extra dough. The waiter told me that Starfucker didn’t do anything but dance. I guess Starfucker is his stage name.” He laughed again.

Every time I looked at Jackson, I tried to imagine him stripping for guys. He was a nice-looking guy, but he didn’t seem to have an athletic build or anything, but then, I hadn’t seen him dancing in his underwear. He always wore jeans and a regular shirt. His ass didn’t seem to be anything special either, but I had heard that there are guys who will pay plenty for a piece of straight-boy butt.

Jackson thought that Vincent and I were together; I didn’t correct him, and I wondered what Vincent had told him, or perhaps omitted telling him. My date that night was with a baseball player named Dylan. Unlike my other dates, Dylan and I had talked several times. He had watched me leave one of the meetings for gay students and had asked me to join him for coffee.

Dylan was six-two, one-ninety, dark brown hair, golden eyes, and muscles everywhere. He had a nice smile and an attractive nose. He had no questions about being gay, but he was terrified to come out. I liked him, and I enjoyed talking to him, but I wasn’t romantically attracted to him. We were going out to get a pizza and then go back to his room to play video games. He trusted me, and I had a feeling that he might want our friendship to go sexual. I still wanted to be in love before I stepped through that door, but my inexperience with life was telling me that I would be alone forever, and my desires to be touched, held, pleasured were increasing, almost to the point of distraction.

I had begun to doubt whether I had made the right decision with regard to Vincent. Maybe I should have started a sexual relationship with him. That evening as I looked at myself in the mirror to make sure I looked OK, I could see the pain that being alone was causing. I made a decision. I walked out of my room a different version of myself. I would take intimacy anyway I could get it. Love would take a back seat.