The Alien Culture Project, part 10 by Rio Mack
DISCLAIMER: This story contains depictions of gay sex.
Chance got to the library, found an empty table, stowed his stuff, and went to search out his materials. His English assignment was to write a seven-page research paper draft on some historical topic. About a week ago, when the paper was assigned, Chance had started poking around for sources in the library and on-line, assuming he'd do something on the history of wrestling. It made him laugh now to remember how last week - in those pre-Reed days - the most interesting sources he'd found were all about nude wrestling in the ancient Olympics. He devoured them guiltily. Fuck, did they ever get him hard. He went back to the dorm and shot off in a reverie of swinging cocks and firm muscles, all ripe and sweaty under a hot Aegean sun. Damn, stud, you shoulda knowed.
But now he wanted to go beyond just wrestling, cause those sources he'd read had all mentioned how homosexuality, especially the love of beautiful young boys, was quite common in Greece. Chance had to know more about this. He spent the first hour or two in the library reading all the sources he could find: it was fascinating, enlightening, and made him hard and drippy as hell the more he read. The paper started taking shape easily. In the first half-hour he'd even thought of his title: "The Normalization of Homosexual Desire in Ancient Greece" (see what happens when a bumpkin like you hangs around with brainiac like Reed, he smiled - you start soundin' smart!).
He couldn't believe the history he was learning. Classical Greek culture was like a wonderful dream to Chance, a world he longed for: young boys, 12 and over, all naked, being trained in art, music, poetry, dance, and athletics by older men in their 20s. Their schools were called gymnasiums, which meant, literally, "a place to be nude" (and there was even a separate, smaller school for just wrestling, like Coach had for his team). Sex was such a major part of the entire experience. Sons of the idle rich would come and watch the lessons, taking a fancy to one of the naked youths and plying him with gifts. If the youth consented, they would start a sexual affair, which was entirely accepted. Such affairs could improve a family's social standing, so attractive young boys were the pride of every father. The young boys knew such affairs were expected; to show their awareness of the custom, they wore vials of oil hanging from a leather thong around their necks, a ready source of lube when their rich twenty-something lovers wanted to fuck.
The ancient Greek ideal of beauty and eros was the very desire that guided Chance's life: ripe, athletic, wholly masculine. Eros meant lust, not love; one might very well one day marry a woman, but meanwhile what was normal and expected was that a young man would indulge the male's deep, physical passion for beautiful, athletic boys. The older men and their boy-lovers would hold symposia, at which the boys - again, all nude, would show off their skills in art, song, athletic games, and, especially, muscular development. Imagine, Chance sighed, his long, hard cock leaking steadily in his dungarees: to be one of a whole roomful of gorgeous, preening, wonderfully developed young boys, all naked and showing off their talents to the aroused stares of their slightly older boyfriends; a paradise of ripe, young, athletic passion, full to bursting with the thick juice of male passion. There was even a prize for the most beautiful young boy.
Chance worked eagerly on this paper, his body tingling with sexual fantasy as his fevered hands typed on his laptop. He felt like he was writing porn, not doing research. As he wrote up his draft, he kept visualizing his life now as a modern version of this ancient dreamscape. He could see Coach, in maybe just a jock-strap, schooling his naked wrestling team. Practice would be this gorgeous bevy of naked boys, all lithe and muscular, stretching and working out, dicks hard with the eager lust of young passion. Coach would move among the boys, the muscular ideal of every boy in the class, his long, manly cock straining in his jock, staring frankly, letting his strong hands feel and stroke and linger where they liked. He could see a group of similarly jock-clad hot young twenty-something's showing up at practice and lustily making passes at him and his team-mates. Their meets would include contests for best developed body, best conditioned, strongest, most skillful young wrestler, and most beautiful. And afterwards, wild orgies in the locker room, going on for hours, till every last drop of pent-up sexual passion had been spent.
He was just finishing his section on the island of Crete, where overpopulation had resulted in both the forced segregation of the sexes, as well as marriage being prohibited till age 30. As he described how the segregated boys eagerly took to randy young fucking among each other, he was so worked up he had to stop writing. It was not only a strain to figure out a way to phrase such steamy, hard-core scenarios in a neutral, scholarly language acceptable to freshman comp, but those scenes themselves had gotten him to horny to work any more. He stopped writing and just stroked his thick, dripping cock; he was so hard he had to cum soon or his balls would explode. He looked at the clock in the library: a little before 4. He could easily finish in about an hour: he had six pages already and only needed to finish a brief section on how the art and architecture of the time reinforced male-centered passion. He could easily finish up here, grab supper, and make it to the tailor shop in plenty of time to meet Reed by 7. There was a men's room right off the stairwell lounge, so he headed there to jerk out a huge, creamy load so he could get back to work.
As he was just about to push open the doors to the lobby, a soft, deep voice from behind called, "Chance! Hey! How's the paper going, man?"
He turned around nervously, embarrassed that his long hard cock was showing so obscenely through his low-slung dungarees, to be met with a beautiful sight: Adrian Richards, another student from his English class. Adrian was a gorgeous black athlete, one of the stars of the track and field team. He had a thick, sexy mane of carefully-braided dreads that went down to his shoulders, earrings in both ears, and rich chocolate skin. He reminded Chance a little of Reed, in the way he combined male-model good looks with an athlete's lithe, powerful build. Adrian had on an oversized button-down shirt, completely unbuttoned, with a white wife-beater underneath, worn like Chance wore his own T's, short and tight. A sexy swath of Adrian's lean, cut abs was showing, as well as the waist band of his boxers, thanks to the drooping, oversized jeans he wore. As Chance answered Adrian's greeting, his gaze was riveted on that beautiful chest and ab definition; fuck, Chance thought, feeling his aching hardness intensify, his nipples are even hard. Going from his X-rated fantasies of Greek boy-sex, which had got him all steamed up, to now have to gaze on this real-life ideal of young masculinity was clearly a cosmic joke of the gods themselves.
He extended his hand warmly, and Adrian shook it eagerly.
"Hey, Adrian. Good to see you. Listen, I'm just goin' out here for a little break. Y' wanna join me?"
"Love to, man. And, Chance, call me Deuce. Nobody calls me 'Adrian,' except people who don't know me well."
Chance was half-embarrassed but half-turned on to notice Deuce's eyes were scoping out his stiff prick. He turned and strode out the doors, into the stairwell lobby. They grabbed a couch, and Chance let out a sigh.
"Damn," he laughed, "that was hard fucking work in there."
"No doubt," Deuce smiled knowingly, still crotch-watching. Chance let it pass.
"But just a little more work and I'm done. What'd you choose for your topic, Deuce?"
"I wanted to do something on historical representation of the black male body. You know, like how do we go from Jack Johnson to Miles Davis to Evander Holyfield and now to Tyson Beckford and 50 Cent and Usher?"
"Cool topic!" Chance said, understanding the general drift of it, although he had no idea who any of those names were.
"How about you?" Deuce asked.
"Man, I have gotten totally into this paper. OK, here's the title, and I swear I came up with it myself: 'Normalization of Homosexual Desire in Ancient Greece.' Whaddya think?"
"Title sounds great. Sounds just like the way Professor Randall talks. But I gotta ask you, man: what gave you the idea to do it on that?"
Chance explained, "Well, take your paper, dude; you're a young black guy, so you decide to do somethin' historical to find out about you and your culture. I'm a young gay guy, and I want to find out more about me."
Bingo! Deuce got just the answer he wanted to hear. He'd had his eye on Chance since day one in that English class. The hottest-looking stud on campus, hands down, Chance had been a major star in Deuce's jerk-off fantasies. He'd followed him out to the hall here just now when he saw him get up to leave, hoping they might make small talk like this. Deuce had been stealing long, lingering glances at him for the past 2 hours. An afternoon studded with scenes of Chance Taylor's big biceps rippling in that tight T he wore, or leaning back and pushing up his T to scratch that incredible washboard, and then the time Deuce saw him stroking his dick while reading! Fuck, it had been the most enjoyable homework session ever. He'd had a low-level hard-on for the past hour or so. But who the hell knew Taylor was gay? He'd slipped way under his gaydar. Deuce, though, knew he had to tread cautiously here. Given the ultra-macho circle he hung around with - all athletes, mostly black, and many of them football players - he was not at all ready to have it known he was into dudes. He was just about convinced a couple of his friends were gay, too, but Deuce decided he'd let those guys come out first. But fuck: Chance Taylor! Too fucking hot to be true.
"That's cool, man," Deuce said, maintaining his smooth, hip veneer. He 'casually' moved in a little closer to Chance on the couch, making it seem like he wanted their space to get more intimate cause the conversation was getting more personal, but he really just wanted to get nearer to this fine-ass muscle-hunk.
"But shit, Chance, I can't front: I never woulda pegged you for gay. No disrespect, man, none at all. I just never woulda pegged you that way is all. No offense, but you always seemed like a redneck sort of backwoods country boy to me. And I ain't thought any o' those dudes were gay."
Chance was very good at reading body language. He'd known exactly what it meant when Deuce moved closer. Well, Chance was very good at flirting, too. And a fucking wet-dream athlete-stud like Deuce was someone he definitely wanted to flirt with. So he mock-slapped Deuce's thigh, making sure to land his hand juuuuussst close enough to the boy's crotch, and exclaimed in his best twangy drawl, "Well, bow howdy, there you go, son! Just shows to go ya, don't it: y'ain't never can tell 'bout these things no-how!"
They both laughed. But Chance left his hand there, and cut the shit, staring at those cool green eyes in that beautiful black face, "How about you, man? How should I peg you?'
Deuce smiled, rubbed his lean jaw contemplatively, opened his legs a little wider (as if to invite Chance's big, firm hand to move in further if it wanted - and, Chance quickly demonstrated, it wanted), and let his pink tongue play slowly along his lower lip. Then he put his own hand on Chance's thigh, making sure his fingertips brushed right up close to that beautifully outlined horse-cock in his jeans, and purred invitingly, "Well, what say we go out for a few beers after we finish our papers, and then maybe head back to my place? You might be ready to peg me right good by then, cowboy."
Chance smiled and moved his hand to rub Deuce's cock, hidden in the bagginess of his jeans. Chance was delighted to find it long, thick, and hard as steel. Deuce started the same sensual rubbing of Chance's cock. Both boys started dripping simultaneously.
"Aw fuck, Deuce. That's about the best invitation I could imagine right now. But please, let me take a rain check. I gotta bolt around 5:30, run an errand, then I got a date with my boyfriend tonight at 7."
Deuce smiled, intrigued, but kept stroking. Fuck, was Chance huge or what? He began to salivate at the thought of this sweet slab of white meat up his ass. But he had to be sure he'd just heard Chance right.
"'Boyfriend'? And you still want a rain check? What's wrong with this picture, I wonder?"
Chance laughed, and brushed his hand along Deuce's cheek, then ran his fingers through those sexy dreads. "Don't worry, man. It's cool. We're very tight, Reed and I, but it's a kind of an open situation in terms of our being with other guys on a casual basis. Make sense?"
Deuce couldn't stop rubbing Chance, and Chance couldn't stop rubbing Deuce. They'd both passed the point of no return.
"Makes wonderful sense, dude. And shit yeah, I'll give you that rain check. Bring your boyfriend, too. See if he'd like to peg me. But listen, Chance: bathroom's right over there, dude. This place seems pretty empty. You wanna go finish this off? That won't make you late, will it?"
"Fuck no," Chance smiled, bending in to kiss those full, sensuous lips. "Tell you the truth, I got so worked up doing my paper on Greek boy-sex, I was headed in here to pump out a load anyways."
Now Deuce kissed Chance, rubbing his long, thick dick harder, more urgently. "And now I'll tell you the truth, dude: I was watching you stroke this thick hunk o' meat while you were working. Got me so hot I couldn't fuckin' think straight."
Both hot boys strode quickly to the john. Thankfully, it was empty. Deuce wanted to keep it that way, so when he saw the yellow "Closed for Maintenance" barrier leaning against the wall, he set it up outside the door. Then it was a race to take off boots and clothes. Chance won, of course, as once he kicked off his work-boots, he'd only had to shuck his dungarees and T. He watched Deuce strip off the rest. What a beautiful fucking body, he thought. Some black guys were blessed with a lusciously lean, beautifully etched musculature, and Deuce was sure one of those. Long limbs of lean, tender beef, popping out from that smooth, brown skin. Reed, with his beautiful Brazilian butterscotch coloring, Tou's gorgeous olive-gold, and now Deuce's thick, rich chocolate. Fuck, guys came in such wonderful flavors.
Chance let out a moan as Deuce shucked his drawers. His cock was long and gleaming; not as thick or as long as Chance's, but pretty damn close. It was a moist, mouth-watering cocoa color, and it curved its length down fetchingly atop a round, tight ballsac. Deuce's entire musculature was sleek and hairless, except for a sexy, well-trimmed band of tightly-curled black pubic hair, seeming to underscore his taught lower abs. His gaze looked up at that utterly beautiful face framed by that sensual head of hair.
Deuce himself just stood there, rubbing his own cock absent-mindedly, and staring at the most beautifully developed man he had ever seen. As beautifully big and well-chiseled Chance's upper body was, Deuce was turned on by his lower body: those perfectly-worked, massive calves, they made a strong, perfect base for this ideal of muscular beauty; and then those thighs, enough to make Deuce cream right now: he could imagine licking and stroking them for hours; so ripped and powerful-looking were they, all hard planes and grooves. But not bulkily massive like some guys, like his football-playing room-mate; Chance's quads were almost elegant, they tapered up to the best set of finely carved hip-bones he'd ever seen, and then that hard, unbelievable 8-pack. And oh yes, the cock of one's dreams. Chance was a perfectly formed male specimen, but one that was then re-made even sexier, with an overlay of extra-cut bulk from his hard-core conditioning. Deuce realized he was cock was now drooling thickly.
"Fuck, stud," he croaked hoarsely, "you're every guy's fantasy come to life!"
Chance was on that dripping dick in a second, almost immediately moaning in utter pleasure. After sucking and licking, grabbing the base with his hand and working that shiny black head, he pulled off for a minute to gasp, "Fuck, Deuce, this is heavenly. It's my first black cock, dude, and what a sweet fucking hunk of chocolate. Fuck, man, don't laugh, but it makes me think of those big hard-chocolate bunnies I'd get every Easter."
Chance brought that glorious cock back to his lips and tongued the cocoa-brown head, digging in for any more of that sweet, tangy precum.
Deuce, in ecstasy, rubbed the sexy stubble on Chance's head. He dreamily laughed at Chance's last remark. "It's pretty much solid chocolate, dude, but keep tasting: soon you're gonna get to the creamy filling."
Chance was licking, kissing and sucking. The play of Deuce's long fingers on his newly-buzzed head, as well as the steady throbbing of his own hard, twitching thickness, was sheer delight. Deuce's dick was long, thick, and wet. Chance held it worshipfully in both hands, kissing it up and down the shaft, then he rubbed his face and head all over it. To Deuce, the sensation of Chance's three-day beard and newly-buzzed head running across his dick was unbelievable. It was like there was some sexy new sandpaper one used as a sex toy.
"Ah shit, dude!" Deuce cried, "Motherfucker, is this hot!"
Chance got back to slurping that gorgeous hunk of dark meat in and out of his mouth, then grabbed Deuce's ass with his hands to hold his crotch firm so he could bob his head fast and hard up and down on that dick. Deuce's ass felt incredible in his hands. It wasn't hard and lean and firm, as Chance would have expected, but soft, pliant, sensuous. Fuck, did he want to plow into those luscious globes. He took his mouth off Deuce's dick to moan, "Shit, dude, this ass is incredible! So soft, so tender."
"That's how I got my nickname, dude. My father had a sabbatical in Paris my junior year of high school. I had this incredible French boyfriend over there who called me 'Douce' all the time because of my ass. Means 'soft' in French. Fuck, dude, I love what you're doin'!"
"Damn, when I get that rain check, you'd best believe I'm gonna peg this sweet ass o' yours for gay all fucking night."
"Shit, man, that's just what I want. That gorgeous fucking cock of yours. Best-looking dick I ever seen, man. Hurry, Chance, keep sucking, play with my ass. Make me cum so's I can get my lips on that big hunk o' white-chocolate boy-meat you got!
Chance spit on his fingers, then went back to sucking Deuce's cock with fevered zeal. His spit-slick fingers started prying between the tender globes of Deuce's ass, then tenderly, but firmly, easing their way into his hole.
"OH YEAH!" Deuce cried, face-fucking Chance now with lithe sensuality, rubbing that erotically-buzzed head over and over. "I'm makin' believe those big fingers o' yours are gettin' me ready for that huge hunka meat!"
Deeper and deeper Chance took Deuce in, and further and further went his fingers up into that warm, moist ass. Fuck, he had to be up there!
"Aw shit, man!" Deuce sobbed, "I'm gonna shoot Chance. You want my load? Uhhnnhh, uhhnnhh, AW FUCK, man, here it comes!" Chance kept his mouth on Deuce's cock and took every last drop. He kept fingering that sweet ass harder and more insistently, which made Deuce cum and cum, harder than he'd ever cum in months. The black boy tried hard to stifle the loud, deep moans that wanted to scream out from his lungs. Finally he stopped cumming, but his soft, exhausted gasps went on a while longer. Chance was standing now, hugging the boy close, running his hands all over Deuce's smooth, sexy muscles.
Deuce opened his eyes to gaze in awe at this sexual athlete. "Aw fuck, Chance. That was the best sex I've had since, aw fuck, man I can't even remember."
They kissed, tongues warmly dancing with each other. Chance's hands were back in the folds of Deuce's soft, warm ass.
Deuce got down and slowly put Chance's hard, drippy prize in his mouth, savoring each inch. Watching his long, thick, dripping meat slowly disappear into Deuce's thick, sensuous lips, seeing his hard pink shaft against Deuce rich brown skin, was too erotic for words.
"Suck me a little, Deuce, and then, man, please let me in that ass!"
Deuce looked up at Chance and smiled, "I was hopin' you'd say that, dude."
He went back to work on that dream-cock, bringing his hands up to roam over the best set of abs he'd ever seen.
"Oh yeah, work that slab all over, man! Damn, you know I love that shit! Gets me hard as hell!"
Chance ran his hands through his new fuck-buddy's thick mane. "God, you are about the most gorgeous boy I've ever seen, Deuce. You're fucking bewitchingly beautiful, you know that? Like my boyfriend. Fuck, I am so fucking glad you came up to me in the library. Aw shit are you ever fine!"
He put his head back and moaned. Those warm tender lips gliding over his shaft, that sweet tongue playing with his cock-head, and those strong, brown fingers dancing across his abs. Fuck, what a fucking thrill. Chance still marveled at how incredibly his life had bloomed in the past few days, thanks to Reed. His sex-life was like a stunted flower that had gloriously opened. Reed was the master gardener who'd rescued the tender shoot of his love, recognizing its true variety, gently working it loose from the hard, rocky ground where it had lain barren and almost lifeless, and transplanting it to a rich, lush, fertile soil, one which had all the proper nourishment for his genus. No wonder his stalk had quickly shot up so firm and thick, and no wonder his seed sprouted now in such healthy abundance. He was finally planted in his rightful garden, one rich in the fruits of male passion, teeming with such a wonderful variety of ripe, beautiful boys.
"God I love this, dude!" he softly sighed, from somewhere just south of heaven. Deuce had his dick in his hands now, playing with the foreskin sexily, teasing the tip with his tongue.
"Aw shit, man, lemme at that ass now, please, Deuce! Else I'll shoot any minute!"
Taking that huge cock in both hands, Deuce kissed it lovingly, then licked up and down the underside a few times, stopping to kiss and lick that big, luscious, low-hanging ball-sac. As sorry as he was to tear this sweet hunk of meat out of his mouth, he was that anxious to feel it up his ass. Fuck, he hadn't had a really good fuck in months, just a couple nervous, anonymous sessions in the basement tea room of this very library. Well, a slow, glorious fuck from this huge hunk of jock-stud boy-meat would sure make up for it.
"How you want me, dude?"
"Shit, man. I don't care. I just gotta get all up in that sweet, soft ass o' yours, Deuce. Or should I say [and here Chance tried to sound French] 'Douce'?"
Deuce laughed, took one last, lingering swipe at the underside of this gorgeous, perfectly shaped, thick, veiny cock, and rose up. He kissed Chance hard, rubbing his muscles all over, then he braced himself against a sink.
"Fuck me, Chance! Take me, dude!"
Chance rubbed that gorgeous brown frame, then bent down to kiss and lick those soft globes tenderly all over. Soon, he was rimming Deuce's sweet brown pucker, as the boy whimpered huskily in delight.
After a few minutes, Deuce was crying, "Now, man! I gotta feel that thing!"
Chance rose up, took his hefty tool in hand, and began to work his thick cock-head into Deuce's ass, which was wiggling excitedly. Slowly, Chance eased in, with Deuce controlling his muscles to gradually accommodate this dream-dick.
"FUCK, MAN! How big ARE you? You sure you ain't got no black blood in you? AH SHIT!" he screamed as Chance lustfully plowed onward. He started playing with Deuce's dick as he inched his own thickness further and further up that sweet brown ass. Finally, he was all in. Deuce felt that sweet ballsac pressing against his ass.
"AW FUCK, DUDE! I ain't never lettin' you leave that ass, man! Goddamn, that's what a boy wants to feel! Don't start pumpin' yet, man; just let me work my ass all over you, to get used to this fine-ass dick fillin' me up."
As Deuce's ass writhed sensuously over his thick, stiff prick, Chance continued to let one hand play with the boy's cock and balls, the other was now working over those lean pecs, moving from tit to tit, pinching and twisting. Soon, Deuce's ass was clenching Chance's big dick hard and hungrily.
"AW YEAH, man!" Deuce moaned. "That shit feels good! Fuck me, man! Fuck me as hard as one young stud can fuck another!"
Then Chance got to work. As his powerful hips built up a rhythm, and his hands kept dancing across Deuce chest and groin, he watched in the mirror above the sink as that beautiful black face writhed in the serene ecstasy of masculine pleasure, those gorgeous dreads dancing with delight. The picture of this young beauty in the throes of erotic bliss from this steamy bout of boy-sex inflamed Chance. He grabbed Deuce's hips and threw him a hard, athletic fuck. He day-dreamed they were two nude young boys at an ancient Greek symposium, showing off their well-developed, beautifully muscular bodies as well as their lithe, athletic skill in fucking. He could just picture handsome young men around them, jacking off in lust-inflamed appreciation of these two young heroes.
In and out Chance plunged, watching his long thick dick impale itself time and again in that sexy black ass. His powerfully-muscled hips were hitting every switch in Deuce's ass. Soon he didn't need to hold on to Deuce's hips, as Deuce was bucking back fiercely and hungrily against the long dick stroking him, using his ass to ride it in utter pleasure. So Chance went back to tit-play. He stared dreamily at their reflection in the mirror, the sweet picture of his white hands playing over that gorgeous brown chest, Deuce's hand jacking his long, shiny black cock. Presently, he watched Deuce's dreamy smile turn to a face-clenching look of utter pleasure, signaling he was about to cum. Chance's gaze riveted on that long, hard, black cock as it splashed spurt after spurt of thick white cream back against his smooth brown torso. Deuce's ass clenched tightly on Chance's hardness until his nuts were pumped dry.
Chance knew he would cum soon himself, but he kept long-dicking his beautiful new friend. He scooped off some cum from under Deuce's nipple, brought it to his lips, and licked them sensually while Deuce smiled back at him in the mirror. He scooped up another gob and fed it to Deuce, who grabbed Chance's hand with both of his, licked his fingers clean, then kissed them gratefully.
Then Deuce grinned, and bent over a little further. Chance watched in the mirror as the lithe brown stud reached a hand down between his legs. Soon he could feel the fingers of that hand playing with his ballsac as it slapped against Deuce's ass.
"OH FUCK YEAH!" Chance cried. Deuce was fondling his balls like crazy, high on the feeling of those ripe, juicy orbs hanging firm and full in their long, low sexy nutsac. His slender fingers caressed them, tickled them, pulled on them, rubbed them together. They felt to Deuce like some rare, precious jewels stored in a soft, smooth velvet bag. Chance, though, couldn't hold out; the combination of Deuce's talented ass muscles working over his dick and those heavenly fingers fondling his smooth ballsac was too much. He plunged his cock to the hilt and shot load after load of hot boy-spunk into that sweet, gorgeous ass.
After he had shot his load, he slowly pulled out. Deuce got down and licked that gorgeous, slimy piece of meat as clean as a whistle. Then he kissed it one last time, and the boys dressed.
Before they headed out of the john, they embraced in the deep, total-body serenity of boy-lust well-slaked.
"So," Chance smiled, "rain check?"
Deuce grinned. "Fuck rain checks. I want a weekly appointment. Maybe daily. That's the best fucking sex imaginable. Chance, you're just incredible."
"You ain't nothin' to sneeze at your damn self, son."
They exchanged phone numbers and got back to their papers.
Thirty minutes later, an invigorated Chance Taylor finished his paper, ending with a section that traced the penis as fertility symbol through Greek culture, in both architecture - all those phallic columns - as well as art, including his analysis of some of the pictures of pottery shards he'd found, all with various scenes articulating the some of the boundaries masculine lust in ancient Greece: men seducing beautiful young boys, nude athletics, a young man playing with a boy's penis, and boys fondling each other's genitals. When finished, he spell-checked, returned his materials, and packed his back-pack. On his way out, he stopped off to kiss Deuce good-bye, and tell him how glad he was to have found such a beautiful, intimate friend.
Walking out of the library, back to his dorm room, Chance's mind (not to mention his dick) was still abuzz with the incredible sex he and Deuce had shared. This might not be ancient Greece, he thought, but it would sure as hell do till they invented a time machine.
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