Author’s note: this is the fifth installment in a ten-part series.
I hear the knock, and it sounds far away. I hear it again, louder, and I realize that he’s here, Jamie is knocking on my door. I get up from my bed and walk the few steps over to the door, open it. Jamie is standing there, wearing a beat-up T-shirt, cargo shorts, and flip flops. He grins at me, back-lit from from the bright light in the hallway. I reach out and grab his shirt to pull him into the room. We are immediately in each other’s arms, kissing and rubbing our faces together like familiar lovers who have been apart for a long time.
“Jesus,” he says, as I kiss around his cheek to his ear and into the crook of his neck between his cheek and shoulder. His hands are on my back and arms, rubbing me. My hands are feeling the long muscles of his back under the thin material of his shirt. He pushes off to stand a few paces away from me.
“Jesus, fuck,” he says, softly, taking in my shirtless body in a long look. He rubs the back of his head as if disoriented. Then he reaches for me again. I feel his hands trace up from my belly to my chest. He pushes his thumbs into the softness of the flesh around my nipples, and I feel them harden under his firm touch. He straightens his fingers and watches them disappear into the thick forest of hair on my chest.
“God damn,” he says.
He looks up at me and smiles. My cock is rigid-hard. I love the feeling of his hands on my body like this. My mind is, for once, comfortably silent. I am completely in the moment with him, adrift in an ocean of physical sensation.
He makes his hands into fists, pulling me to him by my chest hair. I can feel his mouth smiling uncontrollably as we kiss, and I hear him laugh. I am laughing too, elated to be in his arms, tasting his mouth. I reach down under the lip of his shorts to feel the soft mounds of his ass. I am surprised to feel that he isn’t wearing any underwear.
He breaks our kiss to look at me and say, “Mmm, you like?”
“Yeah”, I say, kneading his ass with my fingers.
“And here I thought we were just going to keep chatting.”
“Mmm, I’m not so sure about that,” I say. I can feel his cock pushing against mine through his shorts. I walk him backward over to my bed and push him down to lie on his back. I fall on top of him and he moans as I press my weight into him, grinding my hips against his. I pull up on his shirt, wanting to get it off of him. He helps me strip it off and I feel his body — the smattering of hair on his stomach and across his chest — the rest of him is deliciously smooth, soft cream under my fingertips.
I track my hands down his torso and feel the slight bulge of his belly. I grab the soft flesh and squeeze, then move my head down to kiss him in the space under his belly button. I feel him shiver. I grab his shorts by the waist and yank down. They come down to his mid-thigh, exposing his pelvis and his cock, which springs out, erect and eager. He helps me shuffle off his shorts and then there he is, completely naked, lying in my bed.
I press my face into his crotch, feel his hardness press against my cheek. I inhale the scent of him. He smells like Jamie, like my memory of him and his body, the feel of him that is etched into my brain from the dreams or visions or whatever they were, and he smells like sex, a raw and slightly acrid smell that excites every electron in my head, momentarily. The electrons suspend for a moment, soaring high in their orbitals, and when they come crashing down, inevitably, my awareness explodes with uncounted trillions of light particles.
I feel him grind himself against my face and I reach up across his thigh to grab his cock. He is hard and slick with pre-cum. I grip him in my fist, and he moans as I begin to stroke him. I feel along the slight downward curve of him, feel the give of extra skin as it slides over underlying rigidity. It occurs to me that he is uncircumcised, that his cock feels different from my own, and the difference only heightens how turned on I am. I pull upward, gently, away from his body, and watch his foreskin collect around the swollen head of his cock, forming a divot that immediately fills with fluid leaking from his cock slit.
I hover over his cock with my face and carefully touch my tongue to the underside of his cock head, just above my fist, and lick carefully across the tip. The salty-sweet pooled liquid spreads through my mouth. Immediately, I want more of him, and I proceed, slowly, to move my mouth down onto his cock.
“Oh, my god, dude…” Jamie breathes as my mouth envelops him. He has one hand on my arm, and the other is on my neck, his thumb stroking the space between my jaw and my ear. His stomach is contracting and relaxing as I suck his cock, and I can tell that I am sending waves of pleasure through his body.
I unlock my hand from his shaft to grip his balls. His ball sack is loose and feels hefty in my hand — I’m surprised how much lower his balls hang than mine. I can get my whole fist around his sack above his actual balls, and I use this grip to pull downward on him, gently, as I suck him. His cock curves perfectly into my mouth and I feel it pushing down into my throat. I move onto him further and further with each stroke of my mouth, until my face is pressing into his pelvis.
Spit is leaking out of my mouth, coating my hand and his balls and generally covering his crotch in slick wetness. He’s moaning loudly, now, and I can tell that he’s getting close to orgasm. His breath is coming faster and faster. I don’t want him to come. I pull off of him and release my grip on his balls. I stand up and wipe the spit from my face with the back of my arm. I see him move to grab his cock, but I knock his hand away, preventing him from touching himself.
“That was fun,” he says, grinning up at me.
“Yeah?” I say.
“Excellent ball-handling skills,” he says, and dissolves into laughter.
I chuckle, but then grunt and lift one of his legs, then the other, up, off of the ground, and push them into his chest, resting my weight into him via my hands pressing into his hamstrings just below his knees. From somewhere in me comes a low, guttural growl and I stare deep into his eyes.
Jamie senses that the mood has shifted away from playful, and his face relaxes into an expression of guarded repose. Folded as he is, under me, he must sense that he is essentially helpless, pinned beneath a much larger and stronger man. I lean forward, and push my hips against him, letting him feel the bulge of my cock against his exposed hole. I feel him flex his muscles, tightening everything below the waist, defiantly. For a moment, we are locked in some sort of rut for dominance. Then there is a shift, a subtle softening in him… a submission. He reaches up and strokes my chin, my beard. His lips curve into a grin.
“Well, you go from zero to sixty fast, don’t ya, stud?” he says. “What are you gonna do with me?”
I kneel then, fueled by his surrender. I keep my hands and arms pressed into his thighs, and lower my face to his upturned hole. His balls are lying across his taint, partially obscuring his hole from view. I nose them aside and exhale hot breath onto him. Little curls of hair, wet with a mixture of spit and pre-cum, lie matted against the rosy skin of his crack. I rub my cheek and chin across his asshole, letting him feel the coarseness of my beard on his delicate skin. I feel him shudder.
“Oh my god,” I hear him say. His hand has sneaked back to his dick, stroking it slowly. I move it away again.
When my tongue finally connects with his hole, he reacts as though I am skewering him with a hot poker. His body jolts and bucks, and he lets out a loud grunt, but I hold him firmly in place. I probe into him and feel his flesh pulse and spasm against my tongue.
From deep within myself, I react to my mouth on his ass with shock and horror. I didn’t even know this was a thing, did I? How could I know how to do this, that it would feel so good, that I would feel so powerful doing this to another guy? That I could dominate another man so completely, and that it would turn me on so much?
“Oh god, oh god, oh god.” Jamie is moaning as his body jerks and shudders. I continue to force my tongue into his hole, then hook his own arms under his legs so he can hold them up while I use my hands to spread his ass cheeks apart to get deeper into him. His balls are contracting, over and over, tensing up toward the base of his cock and then falling back down to hang low in their sack. With one hand I stroke the very base of his cock. He is obviously close to coming, and I debate whether or not I should let him. But he stops me.
“Stop stop stop, I’m gonna cum! I’m gonna cum, dude,” he heaves, unhooking his arms from his legs and rolling over, away from me. He lies at the other end of the bed, chest heaving as he catches his breath. I come to my senses a bit, too, grab a shirt from the floor to wipe my face.
“Holy shit, dude,” he says, looking at me with his brow furrowed. “I had no idea…”
“No idea about what?” I ask.
“You were such a sex machine,” he says.
“A sex machine?” I say, and we both burst into laughter.
He stands up and kisses me on the mouth, and reaches his arms around my neck. He kisses me deeply and the idea of him kissing my mouth, which was just on his cock and his ass, sends a renewed bolt of lust through me. His hands are unbuttoning my jeans, now, unzipping me. He pushes down my jeans and underwear and then he’s kneeling down to take my cock in his mouth.
He works me expertly, it seems, sucking the head of my cock while stroking the base in a helical motion. I watch my cock disappearing into him and I caress his head and cheek, feeling the fineness of his hair, so different from the thick coarseness of mine.
I let out a low moan as the pleasure mounts in my cock and radiates through me. He stops sucking and looks up at me, past the engorged head of my cock.
“Jesus, dude, look at this thing,” he says, stroking my cock from its base to the tip, slicking the length of it with his spit. Then he swallows it again, trying to get as much of it as he can into his mouth. I feel him start to gag, and he backs off, then tries again. After a few more attempts, he takes his mouth off of me and I see long strands of mucus strung between his lips and my cock. He shrugs, his eyes are a little red from the gagging.
“Well, I tried,” he says, smiling. He keeps stroking me, and his face turns serious. “Dude, you have to fuck me. Will you fuck me?”
His words fill me with steely purpose. I pull his hand away from my cock and walk over to my dresser. I pull out the condoms and the lube I got from Tim out of the drawer. Jamie takes the condoms out of my hand, rips one off the pack and tears it open with his teeth. He grabs my hand and pulls me close to him. He pulls at my cock and strokes me — I am as hard as I’ve ever been — it’s like my cock instinctively knows what’s coming.
He unrolls the condom over my cock, then drizzles lube along the top and uses his hand to smear it all around the shaft. He puts one more big dollop on the tip and, delicately, uses his finger to coat the whole tip in a slick layer.
Then he lies down on my bed and reaches between his legs with more lube. I hop up onto the bed and pull him toward me so that I’m on my knees between his outstretched legs. He reaches his arms up over his head. He is so beautiful lying front of me like this. I am still for a moment, my hand resting on his belly, just looking down at him. I am so happy I could almost burst. I want this room to become an ark, a spaceship hurtling us through the void, together, preserving this moment, free from context, free from thought.
“Are you OK?” he asks. His voice sounds far away. The music and my own heartbeat pulse in my ears.
In response, I rock toward him and pull one of his legs up across my chest and shoulder so that I can more easily position my cock against his hole. I push the tip of my cock against him gently, so that he can feel it, then I lean into him. I feel his muscles tense as my cock starts to push into him. I feel him tightening against me, but I keep the pressure steady, and every time I feel him relax, I lean in a bit further.
Abruptly, his hole gives way and I slide into him a few inches. He lets out a sharp yelp as his whole body contracts in pain.
“Fuck fuck fuck,” he says, and he starts to wiggle, pushing against my chest and shoulders, but I hold him in position. Instinctively, I seem to know what to do. I know that the pain is temporary.
Just as I anticipate, he begins to calm underneath me. I feel him take a few breaths and then relax. As he relaxes, I lean into him and sink myself all the way into his ass, coming to rest on him with almost my full weight. Our faces are inches apart now, separated only by the space of his leg, sandwiched between our chests.
I stare into his eyes. Somehow, it feels like it was inevitable that we would wind up like this, with my cock buried in his ass, my body on top of his. From the fist moments that I saw him in that locker room, when he had his leg up on that bench, lacing his shoe and cocking his eyebrow at me. His expression had said, here I am, here is my body, my ass, my hole. It’s here for you to claim it, if you can. Are you man enough?
I grunt and begin to thrust, slowly, moving just my hips, not pulling my cock out more than an inch or so before pressing it back into him. He starts to make a sound somewhere between a moan and a whimper upon each in-stroke. I feel parallel lines of sweat break out across my lower back, I feel wetness bead in the hair of my belly and arms. His body is suddenly very hot under me, emitting heat like a radiator. I lean back and shift my weight more to my knees to get better leverage. For a second, we are legs and arms akimbo until I pull his ass further up so I can penetrate him at a better angle.
When I have my rhythm back I start to really stroke into him. His hole is fully acclimated to my cock and there is a delicious looseness to him that seems to almost suck my cock into him as I thrust. Our bodies begin to move together, flexing and rocking as we notch the tempo up several ticks. The wood of my bed frame begins to knock against the cinder block wall, and the sound melds into the music pulsing from my computer speakers.
“Oh, fuck,” Jamie keeps repeating as I fuck him harder and harder. Abruptly, my left quad, the one I’d injured, starts to spasm and pain shoots around to my buttock and lower back. I grunt, pushing off of him to step off the bed; my cock makes a distinct sucking sound when I pull out of his ass.
I reel back a few paces from the bed, shaking my leg out to stop the cramp from spreading. I see Jamie stand too, bend down and grab his T-shirt to wipe sweat from his neck and chest.
“Is your leg OK?” he asks, when he sees me massaging my thigh.
“Yeah, just a cramp,” I say.
He grins at me. “Dude, we’re totally fucking!” he says, giddily.
I smile back at him. He comes toward me and grabs my cock, still in the condom, feeling it and shaking his head.
“This is insane,” he says.
He grabs the bottle of lube from the bed and squirts some more onto my cock, and rubs it around. Then he rubs his hand on my chest, to wipe the lube off of it.
“Sexy fucker,” he says, and kisses me. I kiss him back and our hands are on each other again. We fall onto Pete’s bed, him on top of me this time, kissing me energetically, feverishly. I roll over on top of him, and then stand up. He tries to stand up but as he does so I flip him over and push him down, face-first, onto Pete’s bed.
His feet are on the ground and his ass is pointed up at me. He relaxes his back and pushes his ass toward me, beckoning.
His hole is wet and sloppy now, but I grab the bottle and drizzle some more lube onto him, then rub my thumb over his hole, slowly circling the puckered, pink flesh between the mounds of his butt cheeks. He moans and pushes himself against my thumb and I feel the give of his hole, sending shivers through me as I anticipate penetrating him again. I savor the moment, this beautiful boy giving himself to me, opening himself to me.
I position the head of my cock against his hole and place my hands on his ass. The softness of his ass cheeks is incredible. It feels like I could pull globs of marshmallow off of him. I squeeze his ass and I feel the underlying musculature supporting the exquisite, overlying softness.
I am completely consumed with the desire to fuck him. I push my cock head into him and feel it slide past the loosened ring of his asshole. I start to stroke into him, using his pillowy butt cheeks as handles to pull his body against mine. As the tempo increases, his ass starts to slap against my pelvis, which only drives me to fuck him faster and harder.
He’s grunting now, and I can’t tell if it’s pain or pleasure or some mixture of the two. Pete’s bed is smacking into the other wall, and I hear myself making some sort of noise as well, some noise I’ve never heard before.
I lean over him and grab his shoulders, forcing his back into an arch under me as I thrust into him. Shock waves reverberate across his ass and back in mesmerizing patterns of ripples in his flesh. I’m sweating hard and breathing hard. I reach around him to feel his chest and stomach, wrapping him in a bear hug as I approach orgasm.
When my body starts to spasm I push into him one last time, incredibly hard, so hard I worry I might break him, and then my senses cut out, short-circuited by an earth-splitting crack of pleasure. I hear a roar and realize that it is my voice. I feel my cock unload into his ass as my hips jerk with the force of my ejaculation. After a long, white-hot, blinking moment, the sensation desaturates and I feel my body start to come back online. I relax my grip on him and feel him take a breath. We lie there, me on top of him, him face-down on Pete’s bed, for a long time before I unwind my arms from around him.
There is a slick film of sweat between us that makes a soft, wet sound as I peel off of him. The hair on the front of me is completely soaked. I ease my still mostly hard cock out of his ass as slowly as I can. When the head slips out of his hole, I see a huge pool of opaque white cum in the tip of the condom. I carefully pull the condom off and then stand there for a second, clueless, not knowing what to do with it. After a moment, I pitch it into the wastebasket next to my desk.
Jamie is still lying face-down on the bed, not moving. I can see him breathing, but I am suddenly self-conscious, mortified about what has just occurred.
“Jamie?” I say, after another long moment.
“Holy shit,” I hear him say, his voice muffled in Pete’s comforter.
“Are you OK?” I ask. I am standing in the middle of the room, naked, feeling stupid, not knowing what to do with myself.
“Are you kidding?” Jamie says, flipping over and sitting up. He reaches down and then holds up his hand, which is covered in cum. “I’m more than OK, dude… that was fucking awesome!”
He picks up his T-shirt and wipes his hand on it, then uses the T-shirt to wipe his crotch. He tosses me the shirt and I wipe myself with it, too.
“I’ve never been fucked like that before,” he says.
I feel myself blush, but don’t know what to say. Self-consciously, I walk over to my desk and take a swig of Gatorade. I offer the bottle to Jamie, who finishes the rest of it in one long drought. I open the other bottle and hand it to him, and he drinks almost half of it before handing it back to me.
“Fuck,” he says.
It is suddenly awkward between us. I am not sure what is happening, exactly. My mind is going in and out of black and white static. Random flashes of the sex we’d just had – we had just had sex, right — I want to ask him — come into my head.
What time is it?
I look at the clock. It is three AM. No, it is 1:45 am. No, it really is three. I rub my temple. The music is way too loud. I turn it off.
“How was that… for you?” Jamie says. He’s flopped back down on my bed.
“Um,” I say, looking at him, not sure how to answer him. I furrow my eyebrows.
“Not much of a talker, are ya, buddy?” he says.
“Sorry… I… I’m just…” I say, floundering. I can’t seem to find words.
“It’s OK,” Jamie says, interrupting me. “I get it… I’ll take off.” He sits up and picks up his shorts from the ground and starts to put them on.
“No,” I say, quickly. I move over to the bed and grab his arm. “No, please stay.”
“Are you sure?” Jamie says, smiling at me a little dubiously.
“Yeah I’m sure,” I say. “I want you here… with me… tonight.” This, at least, feels true. I sit down on the bed and reach my hand up to his cheek to kiss him.
He presses into me and our kisses become deeper, more intense. I pull him down to lie with me, belly to belly. We’re both hard again, my hand is on his cock and his is on mine, stroking each other as we kiss. His body, being in physical contact with him, his lips, is like being on some kind of powerful drug.
Jamie breaks our kissing and looks me in the eyes. The breeze from the window is cooling the sweat on our bodies. He lets go of my cock and reaches up to twirl designs in the hair on my chest.
“You know… I could get used to this,” he says.
I smile at him, reeling in the affection that is passing between us. It occurs to me that I’m lying in bed with a guy, a guy I just fucked. I should be horrified at what just happened, but this feels so… natural. Easy. I want to tell him this, how great it feels to lie here with him, the length of him pressed against me, our breath coming in and out of sync with each other. But I can’t summon my voice.
Instead, I stroke his cheek and then kiss his lips gently. After a minute or so, he rolls over so that his back is against my chest. He grabs my hand and pulls it up into the center of his chest and snuggles against me so that my cock, still mostly hard, is nestled up against his ass crack. I press my face into the hair at the back of his head and inhale deeply, letting his scent flood into my body.
Our breath deepens. As I drift away from consciousness, I feel his heartbeat, his breathing, the tiny twitches of his muscles releasing into sleep.
~
When I wake up, Jamie is gone. The fitted sheet has come off my mattress and is balled up in the crevice along the wall and I am lying directly on the rough plastic mattress cover. The skin of my back peels off of it, making a sickly, almost velcro sound when I sit up. I look around at the room. It’s trashed. Pete’s bed is a mess, and I see what looks like webs of dried cum on his sheets and comforter. There are clothes and books and papers scattered everywhere around the floor, empty bottles and food wrappers. Fucking hell.
I stand up and inspect myself in the mirror. I look like shit. My beard has grown in thick and there are large, dark bags under my eyes. There is a look in my eye that I don’t quite recognize, the stranger looking back at me again. It’s creepy, and I turn away.
There is a soreness in my crotch. I pull the elastic of my underwear down and inspect my cock. It’s swollen, puffy along the shaft. I flash to a memory of slamming it into Jamie’s ass, from behind, watching his butt slap against me. My cock starts to stiffen, but I stuff it back into my underwear.
When did Jamie leave? I must have been out cold. It is almost noon. Despite not having been drunk last night, I feel hung over and my memory is really fuzzy. I can’t quite remember what happened, just that it — that something — had happened. Right? I look at the wastebasket, and see the open end of the used condom hanging over the edge. There is the shameful evidence, right there.
OK. Let’s see, what do I do first? I rub my face with my hand and my palm is crusty with something, probably a mixture of dried… fluids. Ugh. I am not going to be able to think straight until I have a shower. I grab a towel and my shampoo and head to the bathroom.
In the shower room, my thoughts swirl with the steam, evanescent and incoherent. The grime on my body washes away, but I sense a residual filth that I can’t scrub off. I can’t pinpoint the source of the uneasy feeling, it works its way out from inside me until my skin feels like it is crawling with worms. I shut off the water and the squirming, itching sensation mounts, sending me into a panic, but then, suddenly, it’s gone, and I am just standing there, myself again. I wipe the water from my face.
In the mirror of the bathroom, I see my beard has grown beyond the point where I can use a razor to shave it off. I will have to get my clippers. I will do it later today. I leave the bathroom and walk back to my room, wrapped in my towel. Just as I am opening my door, one of the guys from the room next door pokes his head out.
“Hey, bro,” he says, loudly.
“Yeah?”
“Keep it down at night, OK? I don’t need to hear you banging your bed into the wall,” he says. His expression is angry.
“Oh, sorry man,” I say, embarrassed.
He slams his door shut. Well, shit. I enter my room. The smell hits me immediately. The room reeks of… dude. An overpowering musty, sweaty, funky smell. I see that the window has fallen shut so I open it to get some fresh air circulating. I prop Pete’s fan up next to the window to pump more air into the room. Then I gather the sheets from my bed and also from Pete’s bed and stuff them into my laundry hamper. Gotta remember to do laundry.
I realize that I am starving. When did I eat last? There is no way I can make it to the dining hall before it closes for the afternoon. And it’s the weekend so there is no dining hall open again until five. Shit. Why is everything so difficult right now? My mind is full of fog and I can’t focus on any one thing for more than a fraction of a second. I sit down at my desk and hold my face in my hands.
Amir. Amir, focus.
I stare at the surface of my desk and try to clear the fog from my head. Images and sounds fly across my mind in random constellations. Jamie’s smile, Jamie’s laugh, Jamie’s chest, Jamie’s grunting as we fuck. Pulsing music, the sound of the fan in the window. A shriek from outside in the quad.
The usual controlled order between my ears is not coming. What’s more, the thoughts that do come are jagged and irregular, almost violent. Like someone is pushing them into me, physically, piercing my brain with broken bits of glass, each containing a fragment of some larger truth that has shattered.
Increasingly uneasy, I push up from my desk to get dressed. Shorts, T-shirt, socks, shoes. I put everything on deliberately, double checking that I have everything in the right… place. Wallet. Keys. ID. I put each object into my pockets. Then I leave my room and walk outside. The day is bright and hot. I am going to get some food, somewhere. I am going to go for a long walk to clear my head. Too late, I realize that I left my iPod and headphones in my room. I could really use some music, but it seems too fraught, somehow, to go back into that smelly, claustrophobic room. So I just keep walking.