Connor's Pretty Horny

I had all of November to heal up from the minor sore of Alex, and I took to healing well. Within hours after the Halloween party, I had downloaded Grindr and arranged a series of anonymous fucks to help knock his scent off me. In fact, a bunch of those guys even texted me afterwards and said I was the best I'd ever had and how they'd like to pursue long-term relationships with me. Being a total baller, I declined and reminded them that they were all nothing but a hole to me.

Just kidding. All of that is completely made up. In reality, I did the only thing I knew how to do when life gave me lemons: I turned them into powerful lemonade fuel for my legendary homework and test prep machine. I was a solid four years away from even thinking about the GRE, but figured why not pick up a prep manual for some light reading?

But November chugged onwards and I made plans to go home for the Fall break. I'd go home and reset all of this and try again in December. But before I could get home, three things happened:

---

First, there was Henry.

A day or so later, I'd gone to clean my room and noticed that my cowboy hat and boots had disappeared. Jake and Dean, who honestly might have taken to playing Cowboys and Indians with each other, hadn't seen them.

November was a tough month. I thought that September, my first few weeks of awkward college fitting in, would be the worst hell I'd endure that year. Turning back the clock of development and feeling like I'd learned nothing at all thus far turned out to be a lot more hurtful than trying to learn it all in the first place. Fuck Alex.

Henry, graciously, didn't bring up Halloween. Bless him. He let me retreat into myself just long enough to feel better, and then dragged me right back out into the light when it was time.

"Get up. We're going swimming." He said, slamming my door shut behind him. I jolted up out of bed, the sheet spilling over my leg. I brought my knees to my chest, concealing throbbing morning wood. I loved Henry, but could do without these unannounced plans. That morning, he wore a ballcap and gym shorts. His hair had grown just enough now to stick out in shiny auburn tufts. Henry had no care for temperature or season when it came to dressing himself. In the middle of a blizzard, he'd rise you from bed looking like he'd just taken his morning jog.

"It's November, Hen." I replied, rubbing my puffy eyes and pulling the sheet up over my crotch.

"See this?" He said, reaching down and grabbing at the skin of my stomach, "You don't get to keep that for free." I was embarrassed and flattered, and his fingers on my skin seemed to linger.

"But it's still November."

"Indoor pools have been around for a century, Connor. In fact, we both pay a tidy tuition for one. Look it up." With that, he bounded off my bed and started digging in my drawers for clothes like a dog digging through the bushes for a ball. Henry could oscillate the way we all did, from sad to happy, but he really only had two modes: Laborador or Golden Retriever. He was always on.

Then he started giggling, the worst possible sound out of someone who is presently going through your belongings. I leapt out of bed and grabbed at his shoulder but he easily kept me at arms length. He held it up and I rolled my eyes, falling back into bed, my legs dangling over the side. He held up a very thin, slightly sheer pair of underwear I had bought on a whim online. Not at a sex shop. I could never bring myself to go into a sex shop, much less buy a pair of underwear like that.

"You're such a dick." I said, smiling. There was something vaguely hot about Henry holding up a pair of my underwear, a thought which I'd need to work on burying later.

"But do these things even hold your dick?" He pointed to the very slight pouch.

"No, I'm just skinnier." I replied. He raised his eyebrows. "Not skinny like that. Like I have a small waist."

"Sure, sure, Connor. No judgement here." He rolled his eyes, making a show of folding them and putting them away. If seeing him holding my underwear was a turn-on, talking about dicks was next level. I could talk about dicks all day.

After triumphantly pulling a pair of high cut teal shorts from a box under my bed, Henry led the way out the door.

The pool on campus was located in the rec center, a gargantuan building of all glass and brushed steel. Very modern. I had fonder memories of the rec center back home, which was very 70s and yellowed. That yellowed shade of old books, old drywall, old carpet was comfy. It was home.

This rec center was not home and exactly the kind of situation you'd only find yourself in with Henry. He leaned over the front desk and whispered to the attendant, a student worker with blonde hair that looked like he might have spent too much time around chlorine.

"Two today, Todd." He said, grinning while snaking our IDs into his hand. Todd fumbled Henry's card and scrambled to pick it up.

"H-have fun in there, Henry." Todd said, slumping down in his desk chair. He wore a cute red polo and was definitively sporty. Todd was a "maybe" hot. I could get into it if he was hung, you know what I mean?

When we passed the desk, Henry's voice stayed low, "You'd never think I was a douche, right?"

"I already think you're a douche, Henry."

"No, but seriously, I think the front desk guy is into me. He freaks out like that every time."

"So did you drag me here to register him on my gaydar?" I flippantly replied.

"No," He turned to let me pass by him, holding the locker room door open, "I came to see you in a cute pair of trunks, duh."

I blushed, but kept a grip better than Todd-the-front-desk-guy had. He had a point, Todd was clearly at least severely disarmed by Henry. If anything, I was surprised it wasn't so common for Henry to encounter a daily swoon at his feet.

We grabbed open lockers. With a few guys loafing around the benches, I really didn't want to undress. I wasn't locker room shy really, but I felt awkward with Henry. Any other day, I'd have kept my eyes down and literally jumped into my clothes. Here, I wanted to be cool. The popular straight guy who luxuriates both in and out of clothing, you know the one. He cracks jokes in the locker room while his friends laugh, and envious losers keep their heads down and dress quickly.

While I wrestled with looking cool, Henry had already stripped. Now I had a boner to keep under control, too, since Henry's toned pecs were my biggest weakness. Somehow, his biceps were all the more impactful when you could see the striated muscle where they connected, the way he was so fully human.

Well, human and part-Golden Retriever, as he chimed in: "Hurry uuup." With that, I pulled my sweater and shirt off and over my head and began unbuttoning my pants. I didn't want to be that loser, but given recent heart (mind?) break, I granted myself a little immunity. Eyes locked on the floor tile, I pulled my pants down and bent to tug the socks off my feet.

"Do we need to get you in like, a retirement home? Jesus Christ." He said, and whip - his underwear were at his feet. There, somewhere in my peripheral vision, I could see it. The brown, curly hair in a tidy bush, and a generous tube of flawless dick. I swallowed hard and thought long and hard on what the cost per foot must be for this wonderful locker room tile. Did the college get a massive discount on tile, when you do an entire facility like this? Is tile just always on bulk pricing? Is there a machine that can lay tile yet?

Henry wasn't one to linger. He whipped his shorts right back on and padded out to the pool area, leaving me with only the rippled view of his back. I thought of disgusting lines old guys would use on girls, like "I hate to see him leave, but I love to watch him go." I was such a skeeve.

Swimming though. For all the hassle that I had given Henry, I do love to swim. There's something bordering on erotic to be 'felt' on all sides, and pounding back with feet and arms. Henry and I kept perfect sync in separate lanes. No doubt, he could have easily outpaced me. Still, every time I came up for air, there he was.

I stood at the edge of the pool, watching Henry complete his last few laps with my arms crossed. Watching rivulets of water wash down his chest as he hoisted himself out of the water made for permanent memory material. Click. Saved.

It'd be sick to say I jerked off to the water-stained image of my best friend. It'd be deranged to say I pounded my cock to a glancing peripheral of his cut soft dick. Of course, I'd never do either of those things - but if I had, that'd be really gross, right?

----

After swimming with Henry, there was Robbie, the second Weird Thing that happened in November.

Robbie was relentless about befriending me. This was a scenario I had not yet ever encountered. Shy, nervous, anxious Connor was rarely chased after. I had never even bathed in the temporary faux popularity of getting the only A in the class, or winning a science fair. Evidently, to Robbie, I had either tricked him into thinking i was ultra-cool, or more likely he was somewhat deranged.

But Robbie had started to grow on me, from being a random bathroom hookup I was trying to forget into a moderately charming, reliable Stats study partner.

"Hey. I'm working. I can sneak you a free coffee." He'd messaged me one late afternoon. I'd just started back in on the really-fun-super-interesting GMAT prep book. A free coffee was worth a visit with Robbie. He worked at the gas station kitty-corner from my dorm, where we'd first crossed paths. In the awkwardness of our sexual history, I'd stopped going over there, but today... Today was a day for starting over.

The walk over was chilly, and by now trees were more bare than dying. Really though, it was perfect coffee weather. I'm no snob (see: unnamed library coffee joint, a memory that gave me painful Alex memories) and not at all above gas station brew.

Robbie lit up when he saw me push open the door into the small convenience store. He'd had a hair cut: short on the sides, long on the top. I'd written the look off to the realm of high schoolers by now, but it suited him. Robbie was boyish.

"A customer! Wait, what's your rush? What's your hurry?" He sang out. Sweeney Todd. Robbie was way too masculine to be singing to me right now.

"I thought you was a ghost." I completed for him, grinning and leaning over the counter. It was a funny exchange, but I mentally promised to not make a habit out of completing showtunes with friends.

"Knew you'd get that one. Does anything ever go over your head?" He knocked back in a small stool, placing his Vans against the edge of the sales counter. Robbie is cute, I reminded myself. Adorable, in his way. "Whatcha up to this afternoon?"

"Nothing half as exciting as this." I waved an arm, indicating the store.

"The thrilling life of a gas station clerk. You're witnessing it. I get some hot guys through here though, but not until later at night."

"Oh yeah? Maybe I'll have to come by." It was easy to be cool around Robbie, because Robbie already thought I was cool.

"Yeah, the guys come down from the frats for beer here. Then they come back a few hours for round two. The second trip is the fun one, for me at least."

"How so?"

"The second time, they're already smashed. Let's just say, your not the only one who's been on his knees in a bathroom." He grinned devilishly at me. "Just kidding."

"Are you though?" I leaned over the counter again to conceal my growing boner. Truthfully, Robbie's lips wrapped around some frat guy's cock wasn't the worst image.

"I'm serious." He let his legs fall off the counter and to the floor, "To date, you're my sole bathroom encounter." And it wasn't my worst memory either. Looking at his dark denim, I could picture it: The thick, snake of a cock coiled there had filled my mouth and throat dutifully that day.

"Well, count yourself lucky I guess. What about that coffee, anyway? Or was that just to lure me here?" At this point, my cock was actually so fucking hard it hurt. Idle conversation helped.

He produced a paper cup from behind the counter, "Already prepared and everything."

So we sat and chatted about stats and school over gas station coffees. In easily twenty minutes shooting the shit with Robbie, nobody else ever even came in. When we reached a dull point in conversation, Robbie's voice got low.

"You know that story earlier, about the frat guys and stuff?" He said, standing up and walking around the counter.

"Don't tell me it was true after all. I can't take getting yanked around like that."

He leaned against the wall and laced his fingers behind his head. "Nah, it wasn't true. But it was pretty hot, right? I mean, in theory only."

The position was turning me on again, Robbie up against a wall, his legs spread apart. "Yeah, it's hot to imagine." I replied.

"Would you blow me right now?" He asked, but was already turning to turn the lock on the gas station door. Then it clicked back in again, and it felt so good: the auto-pilot sexual drive that made decisions like these so easy. Yeah, of course I'd suck Robbie off in a gas station. That was a no brainer.

So with him pressed against the wall, he unzipped and hauled his thick cock out of his pants. I sank to my knees and noticed paint stains on his thighs. I'd never wear pants with paint stains out. Boyish behavior. He took the back of my head and guided it onto my cock, and we were back into that beautiful autopilot of that day in Stats class.

I took his cock into my mouth, and it was almost refreshing. Warm dick, the slightest taste of skin and precum as I took him down my throat. My own dick was throbbing and had trapped itself in the space between my hip and waistband. It peeked out, the pressure of my jeans pushing precum to the tip.

I could suck cock in random places all day. Bathrooms, book stores, gas stations, it didn't make a difference. When the sex-hungry Connor pilot was in the cockpit, anything would do. Right now, Robbie's hung cock was hitting the spot. I slid my hand up and under his shirt, grabbing at the coarse hairs of his stomach and nipples. The light groan as I deep-throated was my cue, I worked my palm over every inch of dick my mouth wasn't wrapped around. He grabbed my forehead and chin, pushing me off his dick and lifting my face to his.

"Can I cum in your mouth?"

"Cum wherever you want."

He plunged his fat rod back into my mouth and I eagerly accepted. I could feel his cock pulsing in my hand as I took control, milking his cum out of him. His hands clutched at the wall and he went up on his heels, blasting a thick load of cum into my mouth. Before, I'd swallowed cum quickly, salivated, and washed the bitter taste out. Today, I withdrew my mouth and kept the cum there - lingering in my mouth, a light string from my lip. Robbie let his still-hard cock hang there, glistening in the fluorescent light.

"Sorry, Connor." He said, hauling it back into his boxers. I noticed them for the first time now: little rubber ducks set on a blue background. Boyish. He hadn't even progressed to Power Rangers. I pictured Robbie playing in a bathtub filled with bubbles and a rubber duck. What a doofus.

"Why sorry?" I said, rising to my feet. My cock was still so fucking hard, but I didn't feel like trying to get some reciprocation. I'd save that favor for later. Maybe a favor like David had given me, the sweetest ass I could remember sinking my dick into. The Grindr hookup, my first, if you'd forgotten.

"I didn't really want to do that. A random blowjob, again, I mean." We'd fallen back into our original formation, him behind the counter, me anxiously rearranging packs of gum.

"I'm going to assume that's not personal." I said, furrowing my brow, grabbing at the edge of my sweater.

"No, actually, it is personal. You're too good a friend and too good at letting me copy your stats homework to be fuckin' around like that." He replied. He seemed defeated - the horny feelings that strike all of us had overcome his judgement.

"Maybe it's okay to just fuck around sometimes. I could use someone to fuck around with. But I'm never going to let you copy my stats homework, to be clear." The devilish part of me responded, the part that wouldn't mind a regular fuck buddy like Robbie - but the puritanical academic in me could never abide cheating.

"Maybe it is. Maybe." He said, and just then - as if signaled by God that it was time for me to leave - a customer walked in.

---

Finally, and most bizarrely, I decided to give Jake and Dean a chance on the last night before we'd all head home for Fall break. It was honestly difficult to imagine the two being apart for a whole week, and I even made a point of asking what they'd possibly do without each other:

"You can play Xbox online, you know." Jake reassured me. Henry had already headed home for the break as soon as classes were out that afternoon. With the lull that takes place even before a break starts, I was too ahead on homework to even attempt to distract myself with it. The result: a night in with the Jake and Dean Wonder Twins. For all the power in their best-friendship though, they sure were accomodating to me.

"Connor, dude, please have a shot." Dean begged as the night wore on. They were playing NBA 2k, chatting with me, and had already decided they were getting hammered. I wasn't so willing. Dean wore a jersey and basketball shorts, because that's what dumb straight boys wear in November. Jake had opted for a sensible white T and jeans. Together, they were the picture of college boys: short haircuts, striated muscle, accessorizing with an Xbox. A brown-haired-green-eyed Dean in perfect contrast with blonde-hair-blue-eyed Jake, and yet, perfect harmony. What weirdos.

Dean clearly sensed my hesitation at taking his shot of tequila. He pointed towards the mini-basketball hoop they had tastefully placed on the closet door, very feng-shui. "If I make this shot, you have to take a shot. Deal?" He grinned at me, and I couldn't resist. He produced the ball, and three swishes later, I was fully loaded.

The boys kept at it on 2k, but conversation loosened up a lot. Liquor puts me right to sleep, so I was lazily dangling my legs over the edge of the armchair, staring mostly at the ceiling and listening to Jake and Dean chatter about basketball. A few shots of tequila and I was gone - but those two could keep going for days.

"Con, were you ever straight?" Dean slurred out, without even so much as glancing from the TV. Some might have found the question a little offending, but I couldn't have cared less.

"Uh, for a little while I pretended or whatever." I replied, pulling my shoes off and throwing them across the room towards my door.

"So did you ever fuck a chick?" Jake played right off Dean, the perfect pair. My face went hot immediately. I wasn't used to talking with them like this at all, but alcohol certainly loosened the gears.

"Never that far." I laughed nervously, but they didn't settle for that.

"Maybe you're straight and you don't even know it, you've never even had some pussy." Jake said, tossing the controller on the floor as he lost again. He slumped down into the couch.

"Con, I'll tell you a funny story, but you have to promise not to get mad." Dean added after a pause. I grinned and nodded enthusiastically. Right now, I couldn't even picture getting mad at his cute face. "Jake and I eiffel tower'd a girl right here, on this couch." He motioned to the ugly, plaid love seat they sat on. Mentally, I thanked God that I had selected the armchair, but my dick was wishing I was sandwiched between the two of them right now. Jake laughed raucously and buried his face in his hands.

"Dean, that was our secret." Jake punched Dean in the shoulder, but the two were already collapsing with laughter. "Don't make me out yours, too." He added.

"If Connor makes this shot, you can tell him." Jake tossed the tiny basketball to me which I pathetically missed. Things did not bode well for hearing Dean's secret. Still, I was curious and drunk enough to give in. I'm not sure that I had ever made a three-pointer in my life, let alone a cross-room mini-hoop shot. I launched the ball, which ricotched off the rim - hit the ceiling, and bounced right back in. Swish.

Jake and Dean were howling. If the dorm hadn't already cleared out for the break, we'd have had the RA beating our asses right now. Jake dove for the Xbox controller, snatching it out from Dean.

"Check this out Connor. You won't believe it. We're living with a total perv." Jake was scrolling through menus until he arrived on a folder of videos. Right there in the living room was Dean's evidently prolific collection of straight porn, sorted into neat folders on his hard drive. I would have been completely mortified to have my pornographic tastes on display, much less revealed to be stored on my Xbox. Dean clearly had no such shame, as he laughed with every new thumbnail.

"My laptop hard drive isn't big enough, alright? You can't blame a guy." He explained, but Jake just kept scrolling through pages: lesbian, amateur, POV, vintage. It was a legendary stash. "Wait, stop here - this one is a favorite. Connor, you can see if it turns you straight." They were playing drunken straight boy antics, but I was trapped on this rollercoaster with them. Jake played the clip. To me, it was run-of-the-mill straight porn variety: a really ugly dude with a huge dick railing a girl who looked just miserable. Jake and Dean got a kick out of it.

"Con, you don't seem into it." Jake said, "You'll hurt Dean's feelings, this is his favorite."

Dean motioned to his basketball shorts which were forming a sizeable bulge. The porn wasn't getting me hard, but seeing his bulge sure did. "Bro if I need to bust a load fast, this is my go-to."

"Connor, who do you think is bigger, me or Dean?" Jake asked and Dean was writhing laughing.

"Don't answer that, Connor." Dean said through gasps for air. I wondered if I would ever say anything at all - but didn't mind watching the show that was these two all on their own.

"No, no, no. You can just tell. We have to know what he thinks." Jake sat back up and grabbed my shoulder.

"Well, given that I can basically see Dean's," I was bold and motioned towards the tube in his shorts, "I'm going to have to go with Dean."

"Bullshit!" Jake leapt to his feet and grabbed at the bulge in his jeans, using his fingers to show the outline of his cock, "Bro, I'm like a half inch bigger, I swear." At this point, my own cock was rock fucking hard and I was really starting to like where this night was headed.

"Connor, I knew you'd appreciate this." Dean pointed to my hard dick and back to the TV screen. He was either playing stupid, or was just actually stupid. "It's hot, right?" Either he knew he was beat in the dick measuring department, or was just ready to move on.

"Yeah, he's pretty hung." I agreed, even though I couldn't have cared less about the porno. I saw a path to take this further, and it didn't involve denying Dean his favorite film.

"I'm so fuckin' drunk." Jake said, collapsing back into the sofa next to Dean. In the process of demonstrating his sizeable dick, his hand had now slipped into his unbuttoned jeans.

"Yeah, me too. And horny." Dean added, plunging his own fist into his shorts. I figured it was only polite to gently nudge at my own dick, staring convincingly at the TV. I sensed a careful balance between fun no-homo fun and taking things too gay. Staring at Dean's cock tent, as much as I wanted to, would be deep in the Too Gay Zone.

"Let's jerk off." Jake said with finality, stood again, shucked his jeans, and there she was: a cut dick nestled in wild brown hair, hanging at a generous 7 inches. My heart hammered at my chest. This was so far from anything I ever expected out of these two. For a second, I wondered if it wasn't best to just go to bed before things got too weird or out of hand. My cock absolutely wouldn't allow it.

Dean shrugged and followed suit. The thing was, Dean really did lose the dick measuring contest, but his own blonde-haired cock was so fucking thick that I involuntarily swallowed. Yeah, that fucking thick. Like fuck me thick. I knew it was my turn, if I wanted to keep this from getting too weird - so driven mostly by horny desire, I hauled out my own dick. Truthfully, I had Jake beat in size but lost to Dean in thickness. There were winners and losers in every department here, all was fair and equal. Except, of course, that I was lusting desperately after theirs.

We all stroked lazily for a while and Jake would occasionally change the clip. Before long, shirts were mysteriously lost and the room was full of that humid smell of man. It was intoxicating, the alcohol dampened the impact of everything, and when Dean said the following, I didn't even gasp:

"Jake, if I make this shot, you have to jerk me off." And before I knew it, I was passing Dean the tiny ball with my free hand. The other tightened at the base of my cock, hoping, praying that Dean could channel some 2k skills right here. Miraculously, Jake just shrugged. We were back in the twilight zone, folks. I played the perfect cheerleader when Dean landed the shot, whooping and pounding my knee to distract from any awkwardness. If anything, I was cheering Jake on to come through on the bet.

No lie, Jake did take Dean's dick into his hand. As the judgemental resident gay, I noted that his form was imperfect but passable. His eyes darted from the screen to Dean's cock to Dean's face as he made those first few strokes. Dean was in heaven. Then Jake locked eyes with Dean when he opened them again from his ecstasy.

"I make this shot, you blow me. Deal?" Jake said commandingly. I realized just then that I wasn't on the rollercoaster of the night these guys, I was the dude waiting with the ice cream, watching them go round the loop. I wasn't onboard at all, and I was completely fine with that.

Dean nodded, which I attribute mostly to Jake rubbing his shaft at the time. Fate intervened again, and Jake sunk the ball in the hoop which rolled right back again. The universe was with me on this.

But this was real life, and Dean turned to me. "This never leaves this apartment, right?" I nodded solemnly, and made like I was watching the porn and not them. I was furiously stroking my dick at this point, writhing up and down in the armchair while the scene unfolded. Dean leaned down over Jake's dick and stroked it slowly before taking the head into his mouth. He had gotten halfway down Jake's dick before pulling off, stroking it with his saliva and - gasp - going back down on it again.

I respected their turn on the coaster that is gay sex, but couldn't help myself. My hand reached out and grabbed Dean's dick, wrapping it in my fingers and stroking furiously while he took Jake's cock. This wasn't my moment, but I was going to take a momento for it. I took my finger and discreetly rubbed it over his cock head as I was stroking, saving a little precum to taste later. A night like this wasn't going to come again soon.

Jake was a lost cause. He had thrown his head against the back of the couch and was just groaning, "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck." Truly a sight for sore eyes, a boy getting blown by his best friend. Then it grew beyond playground dares and sunken shots as Dean sat back up and guided Jake to his own cock, which he took into his mouth. Watching Jake's lips curl around an enormously thick cock like that got me so fucking close. Dean was a more active participant, placing his hand on the back of Jake's cock and urging him deeper on his dick. A thin line of sweat was glistening on his chest from the light of the TV.

Jake was a good boy and dutifully sucked his friend's dick while grasping his own. Dean would occasionally make a show of watching the porno, but his attention was clearly concentrated on his best friend's mouth. This jerk off session had gone on long enough and my balls were beginning to ache when Dean did the work for me, "Jake, let's cum dude." He said, and Jake pulled off his dick to sit back upright.

As if no blowjobs had ever taken place, at least one of them totally willfully, the two boys fixed their eyes back on the screen. For the sake of cumming, I gave up all pretense and watched them stroking their dicks while I powerfully beat my own. Dean came first in two huge shots, one that hit his shoulder and a second that went halfway up his chest. Fuck. Then Jake, who's cock stood directly upwards and fired into the air endlessly. Fuck. Then me, a huge spew of cum over my taut stomach, abs, and chest.

I wondered if, with the guise of horniness now cast off, the night would make a turn for the awkward. But in a miraculous show of transcendence, Jake and Dean just looked at each other and laughed. Friends, regardless, I guess. Don't tell anyone I thought it, but I wondered if Henry and I could ever be so resilient. To prove my point, Jake stood and grabbed a roll of paper towels and threw them at me while mopping himself up.

"Bro, one last game of 2k? I'll kick your ass." He asked, sitting down and grabbing the controller, still naked.

---

Then, as if nothing had ever happened the night before, it was time to drive home.