DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. None of the characters in the story exist and the events that take place are purely imaginary, those some may suspect the school that was the basis for the setting.
WARNING: Do not read this story if you are in any way offended by acts of a homosexual nature. Do not read this if you are under the legal age for accessing adult sites or if such content is illegal or prohibited in any way in the jurisdiction where you live.
Behind Ivy Covered Walls - Part 1
Down a completely unassuming country road off of a secondary highway smack dab in the center of our state, the stately front gates of a college campus rose surprisingly up. It was almost like it didn't really belong there, but it had been there for over 200 years.
The college I am about to start at, Hampton-Smythley, was old and prestigious. Gaining acceptance was no easy task. It required top grades and plenty of involvement in sports and other extra-curriculars. For me the sport was soccer, the primary extra-curricular was our Lincoln-Douglas debate squad, and the academic achievements were the result of working my ass off.
My name is Logan Hicks. I've grown up in a fairly conservative mid-Atlantic state and I'm gay. That's no easy accomplishment to admit around here, but we live in the capital city and, despite the conservative leanings of the state, it was doable there. I'm excited to be heading off to college, hoping that it allows me to live a little more freely and find some more action.
I'm 5'11 with a lean and somewhat worked out build. I have very dark brown hair and brown eyes. And, sadly, I'm still a virgin. I've had some major make out sessions, heavy petting, and jacking off with a guy in another high school. I was too afraid to put myself out there too much around my school. But that was high school. Here comes college!
From the time I was little, Hampton-Smythley College (HSC) was spoken about with reverence. Apparently my great-grandfather, a highly successful banker and general entrepreneur, had graduated from there and attributed much of his success to the school's academic program. He desperately wanted my grandfather to attend, but when my grandfather got his girlfriend pregnant, marriage was the option, not schooling. Then, that same pattern repeated with my dad. In fact, I think that one reason my dad was so cool about things when I came out was that a gay son would mean no unplanned pregnancy to derail a promising academic career.
Clearly, my family wanted me to attend school here. I was fairly open to it, if I could get in, but it was the campus tour that sealed the deal for me. The campus was filled with a disproportionately high percentage of hot guys. The history, tradition, ivy-covered brick buildings, and general aura created a Ralph Lauren meets Abercrombie and Fitch feel that definitely worked for me. Oh, did I mention that it was an all guys school?
Admission to Hampton-Smythley could change someone's life as, if you are accepted, there is no cost for tuition or room and board. The school's massive endowment fund was more than ample, and even while paying out these expenses, the fund apparently continues to grow, thanks to highly loyal alumni.
Yes, Hampton-Smythley meant prestige and was a fast-track to a network of lifelong opportunities. I knew that. Anyone would. But there were other things about the school that nobody other than the students, alumni, staff, and faculty could know.
The aura of the school was clearly one of prestige, but there was also an underlying sense of secrecy that one could sense, but not quite make out. Even on a simple campus tour I picked up on this, and my intrigue was heightened when the paperwork arrived for my admission.
Accepting the completely free ride that HSC offered wasn't merely a "sign here to accept" sort of thing. The terms of secrecy around all aspects of campus life and "unique aspects of the academic and cultural programs which cannot ever be compromised" were made clear in an iron-clad "non-disclosure agreement," with fierce financial penalties for violation. While this might cause some people to pause momentarily, the opportunity generally outweighed any concern and most parents and their sons quickly agreed to keep the school's secrets, whatever they were, safe.
I may tell you more later about my roommate, Andy, and my first couple of days of being away from home which hinted at upcoming opportunities to lose my "V card," but I want to jump right to our orientation program and the first time the veils of secrecrecy of HSC were drawn back enough for me to get my first glimpses into what was happening there.
Several days into logistical orientations we, the freshmen class, were quickly approaching the time the other students would return and the classes would start. We were herded into a massive, old, ivy-covered auditorium for our first address from the school's President. Attendance was mandatory and we were told that the President, Dr. Keel, would lay out important aspects of our academic program for our entire careers at HSC.
"We specialize in the education of young men," he began, "and you are some of the very best and brightest in our country. You have already displayed your abilities in multiple fields or you would not be here. This school and her alumni have chosen to make an investment in you by providing you an outstanding education at no cost and we hope and expect that you will embrace our program while you are here and monetarily support it for the students of the future when you have graduated."
"I must be frank with you. You are about to begin some of your most arduous academic pursuits at a distinct disadvantage. At the same time we will be asking much of you, you will be fighting for the attention span to focus. You know why. You know what distracts you. Sex."
Chuckles were heard around the room.
"This is why we are committed to single-sex education. Science and even any cursory observations of your behavior tell us that you are at your sexual peak. As young men, while we are asking you to pursue the cognitive, you're simultaneously trying to pursue just about any action you can."
Again, chuckles and laughter.
"I realize that there is humor in this" he continued, then taking a long pause to convey seriousness. ". . but the humor only masks the seriousness. I began by noting to you that we specialize in the education of young men. And any program that specializes in the education of young men must address this aspect, all of the pressures seriously working against your attention."
At this point, the laughter and chuckles had subsided. Though we did not exactly understand where this was going, we knew this was a moment of gravity and that something was being conveyed to us about an important aspect of an education at Hampton-Smythley.
"To help you manage these pressures so that you have the best chance of achieving academic success, each of you will be assigned to a member of our Specialized Assistance Team and will begin regular sessions with them later today with the first appointments beginning at 1:00 today. I urge you to follow their direction and fully engage with them. Your academic success depends on it. Also, your sessions with your SAT member are completely confidential. Details should not be divulged to anyone as they are both personal and tailored to each student. You are dismissed."
Chatter, questions, and guesses about what this all meant mere muttered as we left and we all anticipated what the unfolding of the day would bring. As I was eating lunch with some of my new friends, text messages started hitting our phones. Appointments seemed to be at 3 hour intervals. I was in the second round with an appointment at 4:00.
At the designated time, we were to report to Fisher Hall, the home of the Specialized Assistance Team or "SAT." The building itself was a bit of a mystery. It was never part of campus tours and any questions that ever came up about it were answered in a very general way. One had to arrive there no later than 10 minutes ahead of an appointment. Late arrivals would result in a disciplinary referral. Whatever was going on there, it was taken seriously.
A few guys with appointments at 1:00 were grilled by the rest of us as they returned to the dorms. Some were smiling, others looked a bit dazed and unsure, but none of them would give up any details.
At 3:45, I approached the grand building. The email I received named my SAT member, Riley Rutledge, and referenced office 37. The interior of the building was extremely quiet with the exception of those of us with appointments nervously filing in. The hallways were made up of a series of doors spaced out like narrow hotel room doors.
As I approached #37, I saw a small electronic sign which read "Please Come In." I opened the door to find a small waiting area. A quiet tone announced my arrival. As the exterior door shut, I was struck by how quiet it was. Were these rooms insulated for sound?
I'm not sure what I anticipated a SAT member, someone to advise us, would look like, but it definitely would not have been what I saw when the door to the next section of the office opened. A young -- maybe 2-3 years older than me -- good looking guy stepped out, offered his hand, and introduced himself as Riley.
Riley was about 5' 11' with tousled light brown hair, a lean build, and a killer smile. Like so many of the guys on the campus, he was dressed in preppy attire. Picture a Ralph Lauren model, and you'd be picturing Riley.
"Please have a seat," he directed as he motioned to a chair. "Let's sit for a moment out here before we go in. I'd like to orient you a bit before we get started. I'm your SAT member. You are one of only 5 students I am assigned to support. As President Keel explained this morning, a big part of my job is to help you be able to focus fully on your studies. A good portion of my work is scripted out by the college and based on years of refinement because the SAT program is more than 150 years old, but there's also the ability for me to adapt things to each student as needed."
I was staring intently, partially trying to figure this all out and partially because Riley was really attractive.
Riley continued, "Logan, you might have been shocked that someone of my age was to advise you. The school has found that this program works best with SAT members who are relatively close in age to the students they serve. You also need to know that anything that we say or anything that happens here is completely confidential. These rooms are even soundproof to guarantee your privacy and that of anyone in adjoining rooms. Do you have any questions so far?"
Questions? How could I have questions? I still wasn't even sure what this was all about.
After a pause, Riley continued on. "My goal is to not just be your advisor, but a good friend. You can call or text me at any hour if you need me. Our sessions will need to be open and personal. And, this first session and some of the later ones will also involve specific directions coming from the school level meaning I'll be working with you but there will also be narration you hear from the school administrators."
Again, Riley paused. "I'm sure this is all hard to completely understand at the moment, but I've read your file and I think you're going to take mentoring well."
What had he read in my file that made him think I'd take to this program? And what the hell was this program in the first place?
"Finally, before we start, it's best that I remind you of your non-disclosure agreement. Today you will learn more about the overall program here, what makes us unique. The dynamics of this program must be protected. For most guys, what we are beginning today works exceedingly well. But not for all. And even if today makes you decide this place is not for you, you are still sworn to absolute secrecy. You are of age and the details of this program are not even to be divulged to your parents. Are you clear on that?"
"Yes," I replied.
"Sorry to be so stern, but there are things I'm required to say and cover. But don't worry at all. I know you'll do well." Then, he winked.
"Today's session is designed to relax you fully ahead of classes starting. It features a massage. Have you ever had a massage?"
"No," I replied.
"Well," Riley continued, "I think you'll really enjoy it. I'm trained in all major techniques and it's one of the services I am available to perform for you. For many students, it's the ideal way to release tension. Let's go on in."
Riley got up, locked the exterior door, pressed a button to change the electronic sign outside to read `Do not disturb,' and led me into the next room.
The next room was larger and included Riley's desk, some chairs, a sofa, and a massage table.
"So, for the massage to be the best, we suggest you remove everything. I have a towel there to protect your modesty. So, if you're good, I'll step out for a moment while you get undressed and lie face down on the table. That work?"
"Sure," I replied, sheepishly, not knowing if I was going to be able to control some parts of me while naked and with the hands of a hot guy on me especially since dorm rooms are not conducive to easily bating.
Five minutes later, I was face down on Riley's table wearing only a towel. Riley had strong hands, and he definitely knew what he was doing. "Let me know if the pressure is good and if I need to linger anywhere," he remarked as he spread more oil on my shoulders.
I was in heaven, and hell. The feeling of his work on my body was heaven. And my tension to fight sprouting wood was hell. What would he think if I began to throw a rod?
"Logan, as I told you before, this session will include some information and guidance from the administration, so don't be alarmed when you hear someone else. It's just a recording"
"Ok," I replied, as more and more tension was masterfully worked from my muscles. Then, about 3 or 4 minutes later, the recording started.
"By now you should be deep into enjoying a wonderful massage from your SAT member. The goal of this is to remove all tension and pressure so that you can focus on academic pursuits. Enjoy this service and know that you can call upon your SAT member regularly. He is standing by 24-7 to assist you."
Then came more quiet, more release of tension from my muscles, and more fighting to not bone up, especially as Riley's hands worked my thighs and occasionally grazed my shaft and balls. "Think about your mother. Think about something gross. Think about anything but how good it feels to be so fully touched," I told myself.
A few minutes later, Riley asked me to flip over onto my back. He respected my modesty and now my front side was covered with the small towel. I was still straining and, somewhat, losing the battle, with my cock now very elongated, but fortunately not rising up over my groin.
The recording kicked in again. "Your SAT member is intended as a confidante. You should feel completely at ease with him and willing to share anything with him. Your discretion is assured. You should also not feel uncomfortable as you receive the physical attention your body needs for the release of tension."
It continued. "As a young man, you are filled with virile and primal energy."
With that comment, there was now more blood flowing to where I was trying to keep things under control. I was quickly losing my battle to not bone.
"This is all natural for young men, and exactly what our program is designed to address and manage. Your level of testosterone at this age is excessive, and you're likely feeling this in your genitals as we acknowledge that. Being successful here means that you acknowledge your primal side and your intense sexual urges and energy, so that we can openly and effectively manage this aspect of your being. Erections and sexual energy are natural. They are not something to be ashamed of or hidden, merely managed and fully addressed. You are in an all-male setting when you can be open and honest as the pressures and urges you feel are similar to those all the others around you are feeling as well."
I was now at full mast. The towel was tented. And, while earlier this would have been motifying, this recording seems to be encouraging this. Was I being encouraged to have a full erection? Riley seemed unaffected by the tented towel as he continued working my body over.
"You are about to cross a critical line with you SAT member," the recording continued. "Your honesty and openness with them is key. They are here to fully accept and affirm you which includes being open and frank about sexual energy. Feel free to let any resistance you've had fade away. Relax. Enjoy this. Feel the warmth and primal energy flowing to your penis. Do not resist this, rather embrace, affirm, and lean into this, and let your SAT member help you."
At that moment, Riley lifted the towel off to fully expose my engorged penis. For a few moments, I tensed up, but Riley doubled down on his massaging in direct proportion to my tension.
"Shhhh," Riley whispered. "It's all cool. I'm here to address all of this. And, if I can say so, what I need to address on you is rather impressive."
What was happening? Was this real? Did my advisor really just compliment me on my junk? Was this the secret element of this place I'd sensed? Was the same thing happening to my classmates in rooms all across this building? And if this was just my first session with Riley, how far would this go over the next 4 years? Did this stuff go on when my great grandfather was here? They said the SAT program was 150 years old. Was this why he was so eager for his male descendents to attend here?
The expert massage continued with more frequent and more prolonged passing contact with my cock and balls. Everything about my manhood was at full attention, engorged, and leaking a steady stream of precum.
Then, aspects of the massage began to noticeably shift. There was now way more attention to my abdomen and pubic area and even more direct contact with my cock and balls, but that was still fleeting. There was work around my very upper legs, ballsac, and taint. It was as if Riley was focusing energy and circling closer and closer to a final goal. I don't know that my cock had ever been as hard as it was at this moment.
Then, the final shift. Riley was now focused right on my engorged member and he was masterful in his work. He was giving me a handjob beyond comprehension that seemed to encompass my shaft, balls, and the entire general region fully and wonderfully. I was in bliss.
Riley had an ability to read my body, knowing how to take me to a plateau of pleasure but then back off so that I didn't cum. My urge to release grew more intense with each plateau Riley achieved.
"Does this feel OK, NAME, " Riley asked.
"God, yes," I replied,
"Can you feel the immense energy in your cock and balls," he asked as more of a statement than a question.
"God, yes. It feels so good."
"This is the energy we must channel and release. My job is to do just that so that you can come to me to fully expose your raw, primal, sexual side so I can address it fully."
"Is this happening with all the other guys?"
"Well, some form of it. Each SAT member has a different style and each form of tension release is tailored to the individual student's needs, tastes, and desires. But we all want to make sure we can address you sexually so that when you're done with us, you can focus on your studies without . . . distraction, let's say."
I nodded, my eyes still closed. Riley continued the most amazing working of my shaft, head, and balls possible bringing me to more prolonged edges that only amped up my insane need to cum.
"I think we've churned things up enough and that it's about time to release this all. Is that OK," he asked.
"Fuck, yes," I spurted out, quickly apologizing for my language.
"Don't apologize," Riley remarked. "Remember, our relationship is to be one of fully openness and exposure. Say whatever you feel like saying, especially when we're at this point in a session or during your release. Ejaculation is a moment of intense honesty about one's sexuality."
My cock surged at the mention of ejaculation because it's what I craved. Riley read this. But the path there wasn't to be a few fast strokes. It was a few more edges so that I came to each one not knowing if it would be the last. Then, Riley finally brought me to an edge, lifted his hands off me as my engorged cock quivered and pulsed, fully exposed. Then, his amazing hands returned to my shaft and head in motions that seemed to be covering every inch of manhood as the pleasure grew, and grew.
My legs spread, my back arched, and I thrust my penis forward into Riley's warm and lubed hands as waves of jism came from deep within me. "Fuck!!!" I cried out as I shot in geyser pulses of semen, first hitting my face and pecs, and then splattering my abs and Riley's hands.
Waves of intense pleasure washed over me and Riley seemed to know the right pressure and right areas of my cock to focus on to make this release as good as it could be. The pleasure continued for quite a while.
As the waves of ejaculation finally subsided and my breathing slowed, Riley began to massage out from my genital area, my cum now mixing with his massage oil. This was not, "You've cum and we're done." This was allowing me to come quietly back down from the high of a full release to the aura of transcending relaxation and this went on for several minutes more until Riley finally lifted his hands slowly and gently up off of my body.
"You'll sleep like a baby tonight which is good. You'll be ready focus in classes tomorrow."
Riley then let me know that the office suite had a shower, which was really needed given the quantity of jiz I shot. This building was purpose-built for sure, and I was thinking I possibly had a lot more to learn about the exact purposes.
About 15 minutes later I was all cleaned up and about to head out. Riley shook my hand and said he was looking forward to working with me. His comment seemed really sincere. He also reminded me that SAT sessions were confidential and varied according to each student, so I was advised that they should never be discussed with others.
I know I was still quite dazed and confused, and I'm sure that showed. Riley comforted me some by saying "I know this is weird at first, but you've landed a full ride at an amazing school and, since you're gay, I'm pretty confident you're taking this more easily than some of your classmates. And, I hope what I did was good for you. I try really hard."
The fog cleared a bit as I looked at Riley's honest smile. "It... it was good. Really good. Thanks," I said.
I opened the door and stepped back into a college world, the reality of which had shifted for me and every other freshman.
Though a bit shocked, I also felt awesome and I'd really needed to get off. I guess this place really did know something about educating young men. "I think I'm going to like it here," I uttered to myself.
Emails from readers are an amazingly hot part of this process and I'd love to hear from you if you liked this story or have ideas for possible episodes in this series. lowerdeguy@mail.com
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