Cottagecore: Road Trip Chapter 18 - Finale
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Charlie and I said goodbye early Sunday morning. The drive back to Cleveland would take them most of the day, Angie said, and she wanted to get through Baltimore before traffic got heavy. "Worst drivers on the East Coast," she'd grumbled.
I hugged them all goodbye. Charlie surprised all of us when he gave me a deep and very sexy goodbye kiss. I've treasure the memory ever since, my first PDA with a man. Charlie and I weren't always compatible in bed, but he sure was sexy.
After they left, I walked slowly back to my cabin feeling low. I liked Charlie a lot as a person as well as my "beach boyfriend," as the guys at the beach had called us. I found his confidence infectious. Watching him, I felt inspired to take control of myself instead of just letting events happen. He got it from Angie, I suspected. Her scrutiny the previous night encouraged action. I'd miss them.
I thought about crawling back into bed and pulling the covers over my head, but I heard my grandmother's voice in my head. "You can lay around pissing and moaning," she said, "or you can pull on your boots and get to work. What'll it be?" The question answered itself.
I walked to the beach and did my longest yoga sequence, slowly and mindfully. I slowed each movement and held each final pose for an extra beat. My audience of shorebirds and a few senior citizens walking the tideline didn't care. I focused on the sun, the waves, and my body.
I felt great when I was done, tired and very sweaty but also looser, calmer, and more centered. My subconscious had been working while I stretched, because I'd made a plan for the rest of the week.
I still had a little time for Hot Boy Summer, I told myself. The humidity broke with the last storm. I'd do beach yoga in the mornings and now I could run comfortably at any time of day. I'd tan away evidence of my beard and shred a little at the same time.
I decided to add sets of pushups and crunches in the morning and before bed. Pullups, too, on the Pines' playground's jungle gym. Five days wasn't enough to accomplish much substance, but it was better than five days sitting around moping. At a minimum, I'd improve my definition before I got to campus.
Then I corrected myself. I still had to make a few trips to Schooners in case they debuted any new Labor Day flavors. And my dad texted me to start organizing a special dinner the night before I moved into my dorm. Warm Boy Summer, then.
I carried my scrambled eggs, yogurt, and berries to a sunny spot on my cabin's deck.
"Through Baltimore," Charlie's text read as I sat down to eat. "Too much coffee and bored AF."
"Did yoga," I replied, "made a plan. Hippie breakfast."
"You eat hippies?" Charlie asked, and then added a bunch of emojis, basically calling me a nerd. I sent him back a kissy-face to acknowledge his point and tell him I was getting down to work.
By the time I got Charlie's next text, I was back on my deck adding dozens of Orientation and academic events to my calendar. I wouldn't need reminders for everything, but calendaring helped me visualize my first few weeks on campus. I'd be busy.
"Interstate 76 towards Pittsburgh and still bored AF," Charlie texted a little later. "What U doing?"
"Actually thinking about A. Ham. Thank your mom for me" followed by the prayer hands.
I knew I owed Angie more than a second-hand thank you. The deeper I got into the Orientation materials, the more I wished I'd started sooner. I'd be all caught up before I left for New York, but Angie was right. There was a lot to absorb. I shouldn't have waited so long.
First Year Move-In Day and the start of Orientation was in four days, on Thursday. I'd planned to get to Albany the afternoon before, about when my parents' flight was scheduled to land, but I saw that the First Year Registration Offices would open the next day and stay open all week.
My tuition was paid, so I could skip the Bursar's Office. At the Registrar's Office, I'd sign paperwork to officially become an A. Ham. student. Once registered, I could collect my keys, keycards, and dining hall pass at the Housing Office. If I finished registration on Wednesday I could skip what I was sure would be long lines on move-in day. Instead, I'd be able to go straight to my dorm when it opened on Thursday.
I group-texted my suitemates to start making plans. "I'll get to campus Tues. or Wed. afternoon, still not sure which," I wrote. "Are you free for a dinner with families Wed. night? My parents made reservations for everybody but please RSVP so we can finalize plans. Allen, Chris is welcome if he can make it."
"Pittsburgh," texted Charlie. "Bored AF of being bored AF."
"Planning Orientation."
"My butt hurts."
I replied with a peach emoji followed it with splashes. He had a great butt.
"Horndog," replied Charlie.
A. Ham. clearly intended the first day of Orientation to ease students into campus life. Events started late Thursday, with First Year Dorm meetings and then "get to know you" events hosted by the various Residential Houses for their First Years.
For parents, it was a different story. A. Ham. loaded Thursday with evens, probably to start the separation process. Parents could take guided tours of the First Year Dorm complex and our Residential Houses. There were also campus tours, special exhibits at the art galleries, singing group performances, and lots of "Parent Resource Panels." Later, when we were at our dorm meetings, the Academic Dean would host a parents panel on undergraduate life.
Each of A. Ham.'s Residential Houses invited students and their families for dinner on Thursday night. In Laurens House, our Principalis and Decanus would host a family cook-out in the courtyard. Both officials were scheduled to give remarks, but an email from Decanus Solis made the event sound low-key and fun.
My Laurens "buddy"—a junior from New Orleans named Pericles Batiste, "but everybody calls me `Pinky,'" emailed to say I should expect plenty of "get to know you" parties in the Firsty Dorm on Thursday night after our parents left campus for the evening. "Of course, you could host one of the parties, in the finest Laurens tradition." The idea hadn't occurred to me, nor did I find it especially appealing.
"Through Pittsburgh," texted Charlie. "Bored. Still."
"Want a dick pic?" I replied. I'd never sent one and didn't think Charlie was fishing for it, but I knew my text would make him laugh.
"Horndog. What U doing?"
"Still orienting my Orientation." Charlie wanted me to entertain him, but I couldn't get distracted yet.
Orientation Friday started with a bagel brunch in the First Year Commons Hall. I made a mental note to figure out why people called Commons Hall `the Beast,' and kept planning. After brunch, the University President would give her Invocation Address, attendance required and "semi-formal Academic dress mandatory for students." Following the Invocation, the Laurens House Principalis would host a tea, after which parents were "encouraged" to leave campus.
My parents laughed at the encouragement and booked a train to New York for a week of shows, museums, and galleries. "We're going to make the most of you living on the East Coast," my mom said when she told me about their plans.
Once the parents were gone, A. Ham. got down to serious business. Friday afternoon, all new students were required to attend a series of presentations.
First, the materials explained, we'd be introduced to A. Ham's centralized computer network. "SAVANT empowers innovation and collaboration through unparalleled speed, security, and connectivity, enabling student and faculty researchers seamlessly to access the Alexandria Library Network as well as cutting-edge technology and data resources from across campus and around the world." The description was so laborious that I wondered if it was written by SAVANT's AI module.
A. Ham. required all undergrads to do our academic work within its SAVANT system. It not only granted us access to digital libraries and archives from around the world, but SAVANT also contained the word processing and other software and applications we were required to use to do our schoolwork. We'd each receive a new SAVANT laptop to try to foster a level playing field. External devices would not connect.
After the SAVANT presentation, all students were required to attend "an introduction to and overview of A. Ham.'s Honor Code." I'd agreed to be bound by the Code when I accepted A. Ham's offer, but I hadn't thought much about specifics. Nor would I today, I decided, after making sure I had the presentation's time and location in my calendar. I had too much to do to get bogged down in the meaning of "uncompromising honesty" or the "highest ideals of academic integrity."
I also calendared a separate presentation called "Academic Standards and the Citations Code," which the Academic Dean "strongly encouraged" all students to attend. There, we'd begin to learn how to use the infamous "Green Book," A. Ham.'s mandatory citation and attribution rulebook. I'd thought about thinking about the Green Book over the summer, but I'd always found something more interesting to read.
Notorious among students because it was such a monumental pain in the ass, the Green Book detailed A. Ham.'s hyper-specific and obscure requirements. Before I read the Dean's letter, I thought it was just an arcane holdover from the University's stodgier days. "This is how we do things at A. Ham.," I imagined a tweedy academic intoning from behind a mahogany desk. "It's how we've always done things and it's how we always will do things."
The Dean explained that the Green Book requirements were more than just a tradition that existed for itself: its rigor left no room to question the originality of students' work or the sources they used. More practically and more pointedly, the letter said that most First Year students' academic Honor Code infractions resulted from the improper use or citation of source materials.
I was glad to see that the Green Book presentation was billed only an "introduction." The panel would focus on its important aspects, as well as resources to help new students. Even a few bad cites could tank a grade, the Dean implied, so we should begin our introduction as soon as possible. I'd attend, of course, but I also decided to find some time to read the Book in detail before I got to campus.
Thinking about thinking about it only went so far.
The Green Book stuff killed my momentum. I skimmed the rest of the orientation materials, but I didn't see anything that required my immediate attention. I decided to switch to something fun, hoping to regain some interest. Stretching and calisthenics only went so far to break up the monotony of honor codes and style guides.
"Big Beaver," Charlie texted. "Stopped dead by road construction in Big Beaver, PA."
"Eager to hear more," I replied, hoping Charlie laughed. I got an eye-roll emoji back. "Planning my course schedule," I typed.
The First Semester course list hadn't changed much since its last update in early August, but I saw a lot of changes to class schedules.
I revised my running list of courses I wanted to take, adding a few new offerings and deleting some based on conflicts with more important courses. I didn't lose any of the classes I most wanted to take. In the end, I was considering about 20 courses.
Time to build a spreadsheet, I said to myself. I repurposed a scheduling template I'd used in my senior year of high school to keep track of school, independent study, and my job. At A. Ham., I didn't need to track weekend days, at least so far, which made me laugh. A. Ham. was simpler than high school? Not for long, I was sure.
The only class I absolutely needed to take during first semester was Biochemistry and Biophysics, "B&B" on campus. B&B is the first class in the two-year, four-course "Foundations of Biology" sequence I'd mentioned to Angie, prerequisites for most upper division Biology courses. Since the Biology Department only offered one B&B lecture section, I built my potential schedules around it.
After correlating the finalized course schedule against a campus map, I had to strike a few more courses because I knew I couldn't get to them after B&B. A. Ham.'s campus is compact compared to other universities of similar size, but even on my bike I couldn't make it from Science Lane to the Humanities buildings in 10 minutes.
I tentatively planned to take two history courses, an English class that would satisfy my writing requirement, and maybe one of the A. Ham. Great Courses. With B&B and its weekly lab, I would be taking 5.5 units. The minimum load was 4 units, so I would need my Faculty Advisor's approval.
I entered my top-priority classes into my spreadsheet and was happy to see that there were no major conflicts. All the classes I was most interested in taking fit various schedules. It even looked like I'd have most afternoons and all my evenings free.
I was stiff from spending so long hunched over my laptop. Given how much I'd accomplished, I decided to take and break to get moving.
"One hour from home," texted Charlie. "What U doing?"
"Manscaping," I replied.
"WHAT? How dare you!!! You were perfect, what else did you trim?!!!"
"Slow your roll," I replied. "Just thinking about manscaping."
Charlie sent a sweaty brow emoji. Phew.
"Thinking H A R D about you manscaping me."
Charlie replied with more emojis: the panting face, eggplant, and lots of splashes. I wondered if he was as hard as I suddenly was.
Our post-manscaping sex the afternoon before would became one of my jerk-off Core Memories. In fact, after yoga but before my shower, I'd stroked out a fat load replaying it. For years to come, I'd think about fucking Charlie in the shower if I needed a boost to make me cum.
"Horndog," I replied to Charlie's text. "Too much sitting, I'm going for a run."
Looking back, I realized that after Charlie left, the rest of my time at the beach was anticlimax.
After my run, I spent the rest of Sunday doing boring stuff I needed to get done. I washed three loads of laundry, separating my ratty Road Trip clothes from my new purchases. I repacked my truck to give me room for the EQ delivery I'd receive on Tuesday morning. Then, I spent the rest of the night reading deeper into the A. Ham. registration and orientation materials. I skimmed the Green Book to put myself to sleep.
On Monday, I drove over to Cock Robin, a barbershop the guys at the beach had recommended. Monty, a very handsome, very burly, very risqué Bear, asked me a lot of questions before he even draped me with the barber's cape. We talked about my summer, my start at college, and what I wanted in a haircut. Not quite "what's your brand?" but close. Monty had lots of opinions, which he shared freely.
"Kid," he said, "for starters, I've just got to clean you up. What you want, what you need, it doesn't really match your van-life summer. I couldn't live with myself if I let you leave here still looking like a damned hippie."
I laughed. I wondered if Monty had stopped listening to my story before I told him about how I saw my new "brand." Then again, Charlie was right, my overgrown hair still made me look ragged.
He went on: "It's a crime that you're hiding those eyes. That mop on top of your head is a total distraction. I think we need to emphasize those cheeks and your jaw." He pulled my hair away from my face to make his point.
"I trust you," I said, not really following the details he was suggesting. Since I'd left home, I'd learned to trust the experts' expertise. "The only things I really want is to keep it on the shorter side and make it low-maintenance." I'd trust Monty's expertise, but I couldn't lose myself in the process.
Monty smiled broadly, a glint in his eye. "Low maintenance?" he said. "I guess that means you like to get straight to the fun." He was flirty but not serious.
"Straight? No sir, not me."
"Oh, I'm Sir, am I?" Monty said. "I like that. Should I call you Boy' instead of Kid.'"
"I'm all man," I said. "Don't let my twinkish looks fool you." I batted my eyes.
"Twunk at best," growled Monty.
The barber at the station next to Monty's didn't have a customer and was listening to our banter. He was more punk than Bear, hot in his own feral way, with piercings and sleeve tattoos and a black cropped tank top.
"Watch out, kid," he said lightly, "Monty would split you in two if you give him half a chance."
"Bullshit," I smiled. "I'd split Monty in two."
Monty and the other guy hooted with laughter.
"We've got a live one, Ray," said Monty.
We kept up the banter while Monty cut my hair, first with a straight razor and then with precise snips from a small scissors.
Occasionally, Monty would press his cock against my forearm when he leaned in to work. He winked and smiled when I returned pressure. I blushed furiously, to Monty's great amusement.
"We can't let you hide those gorgeous, expressive cheeks," he said. "With your peaches and cream complexion, they say almost as much as your eyes."
I was sure my flirting sounded forced and cringey, but I was having fun and Monty played along. Plus, I reminded myself, I'd never see him again. Pay attention, I thought. I'd have to step up my flirting game when I got to A. Ham and Monty was much better at it than I was. I needed all the practice I could get.
Ray was singing quietly to himself at his station. I thought I caught some of the lyrics, but was there really a song that combined "hippie dude" with "lewd" and "nude"? Maybe I misheard him.
I admired Monty's work when he finished. My hair was short but not military; modern and stylish in a way that seemed both careful and effortless. He showed me what products to use to get different looks. And he was right, the cut framed my face and emphasized my eyes and jawline.
"Good riddance, flower child," said Monty as he spun me around to see the cut from different angles, "hello hot college twunk!"
I spent the rest of Monday outside. According to Charlie, I'm not very good at "just relaxing," so I kept myself busy. I'd already stretched, so when I got back to my cabin I took another run down the beach and spent some more time swimming in the ocean. I do love that warm ocean water!
I wrote a few postcards to friends and family back home, texted back and forth with some of my suite-mates, and packed my backpack with the laptop and A. Ham. paperwork.
I walked down to the boardwalk that evening. Over a cup of lemon gelato, I decided to leave for A. Ham. the next day, as soon as EQ delivered my wardrobe. I was recharged after my road trip and energized for A. Ham. Other than hoping to get some more sun on the pale parts of my face, there was nothing left for me to do at the beach.
(As it turned out, there was a lifeguard left for me to do, but I'll tell that story another time.)
Monty had sent me home with a bunch of samples and discounted products, with an emphasis on hydration and moisturizing. "Your tan looks great, Kid," he'd said, "but the sun and salt really dry you out. You've got to take care of your skin, it's the largest organ you've got."
"Speak for yourself," I said with an exaggerated wink.
Monty laughed through his nose and rolled his eyes, Ray guffawed.
I slathered a shea butter repair cream on my face and slapped a frozen gel-mask over it. I knew I looked ridiculous. Then I thought how silly it was to worry about how I looked, alone in my cabin where nobody would see me. "Even if they did," I heard Charlie say, "good skin is worth looking ridiculous."
I filled the tub, added a calendula oil bath bomb, and settled in for a soak.
Relaxing in the bath, my cock swelled when I thought of Charlie manscaping me. I gave my nuts a solid squeeze to calm myself down. I wanted to relax in the bubbles, not float around in my own cum. The squeeze didn't help so I had to accept my raging hardon, at least until I jerked off. That was how the bath would end.
I closed my eyes and tried to empty my mind. I wasn't trying to mediate, although my technique was the same. "Feel the water, smell the calendula, relax your muscles," I willed myself with limited success. One muscle wouldn't relax. I couldn't stop thinking about my shower with Charlie the day before.
We were both still mostly hard after we'd rinsed away the manscaping mess, Charlie less hard than me. Semihard was just how I wanted him, so I tamped down my instincts and avoided grabbing his cock when I leaned in to kiss him. I cupped his firm ass cheek in my right hand and cradled his head with the other.
"Fuck me," said Charlie into my ear, his voice low and hoarse.
I was already hard, but my cock jumped to even fuller stiffness. Charlie mostly called it "sex" or even "lovemaking" so I knew he wanted more than we'd done so far.
"Not yet," I said, sliding down his body, avoiding his hard nipples and still not touching his cock. Charlie groaned and reached down to stroke himself.
"Not yet," I said, grabbing his wrists. Charlie groaned again in pretend frustration.
The only way I could really suck Charlie's cock would be if I started when he wasn't fully hard. His erection curved slightly downward, so kneeling in front of him to suck his dick made it easier. I couldn't take his hard dick's girth without grazing him with my teeth, and he was too sensitive for me just to suck his knob, alas. I would have spent a long time on his knob if he'd have let me.
I inhaled Charlie's cock while he was still rubbery, although he was getting hard fast. I sucked him as far into my throat as I could go. To discourage him from pulling out, I wrapped my left arm around his waist and pulled him deeper into me, grinding my face into his tidy pubes and feeling his cock at the back of my throat. I found his nipple with my right hand and started to pinch.
Charlie moaned again, this time in pleasure. He grabbed the back of my head with one hand, braced himself against the wall with the other, and slowly started to fuck my throat. "M-hmm," I groaned when he increased the speed and depth of his thrusts.
By starting before he was fully hard, Charlie's solidifying cock stretched my jaw muscles enough that I could take most of him. He mostly kept his swollen dickhead buried in my throat, pulling out only to the back of my tongue before thrusting back in. My mouth quickly filled with his musky, salty precum. I was a very happy boy, rock hard and dripping.
Charlie wasn't going to pull out any time soon, so I let go of his waist and used my knee to push his feet apart. He was really rutting me now, braced against the wall, thrusting hard short strokes and talking dirty.
"My nuts," he moaned, holding my head in place. Charlie liked rough ballplay, so I squeezed his heavy sack and then started to massage. Once I adjusted to his rhythm, I slid my index and middle finger across his taint, occasionally tracing his pucker with the tip of my fingers. Charlie pushed down hard against my hand when I did.
"In," he panted, "in! Finger me. Get me ready."
I pulled off Charlie's cock for just a second to spit a mouthful of slimy precum and saliva into my palm. It was nearly as good as real lube. My eyes watered as I opened wide to suck him back down my throat.
While I readjusted to sucking his dick, I started to get him ready for mine. I slid my index finger into his fiery asshole and then added my middle finger once he'd adjusted. I could feel Charlie's cock jump and swell in my throat as I massaged his prostate with both fingers.
Charlie was getting close to cumming, which I didn't want. Not yet, I thought, we had more I wanted to do. His recovery time was so slow that I didn't think I'd get to fuck him if I sucked out his load. Reluctantly, I slipped my fingers out of Charlie's ass and pulled off his dick. I was covered in slimy precum, spit, and sweat from my mouth to the top of my thighs.
Charlie groaned in frustration when I stood to kiss him.
"I was so close," he breathed as we pulled apart. Thick ropes of his precum connected our lips when I pulled away. "I've never cum from a blowjob before." He sounded amazed.
"Challenge accepted," I smiled, changing my plans. As much as I wanted to fuck him, I'd gladly swallow his load instead if I could be his first.
"No," said Charlie, stopping me as I started to kneel again. "Fuck me. You have to fuck me. Just don't touch my cock. I'll explode."
Charlie knew what he wanted and said so. It was one of the things I found most attractive about him.
"Challenge accepted," I said, reaching out of the shower to grab a bottle of lube from my dopp kit.
As I got Charlie ready, I wondered if I even needed the lube. I'd been stroking my dick a little while I sucked Charlie's cock, but only a little. I didn't want to cum and, more importantly, I needed both hands to take care of Charlie. My foreskin was inflated with precum like a water balloon, but not before soaking my tight ballsack.
What followed was the most sensual sex I'd ever had. Also some of the hardest.
Charlie told me what he wanted.
"Slower," he hissed as I started to push into him the first time. He leaned forward, bracing against the wall with one hand and arching his back. He used his other hand to press against my hip, slowing me down as I tried to push into his tight hole. "Just give me a sec," he breathed.
I stroked Charlie's back while he adjusted to my cock, flexing my dick so he could get ready for my full size. After a few second, he took a deep breath and pushed against me, burying my cock in his ass and grinding against what was left of my pubic hair. I leaned into him to grind my shaft against his prostate.
"Oh yeah," Charlie moaned, "like that. Just like that!" He leaned back against me, grinding up as I pressed down.
It took all my willpower not to reach around and grab Charlie's cock. He was so sensitive that I worried I'd overstimulate him and make him cum. I focused on his other pleasure zones instead. With my left hand I pinched his hard nipple. With my right, I found his heavy balls, pendulous in the steamy shower, and squeezed them harder than I thought would feel good. Charlie moaned and pressed against me harder.
We kept grinding, Charlie braced against the wall and me kissing his neck, lightly biting his earlobes. "There," he moaned, "just like that." I wasn't sure what felt so good to him, so I just kept doing all of it.
Charlie lifted his foot to the top of the tub surround and twisted to face me, my cock still buried balls-deep. I leaned in to kiss him. "Now fuck me," he said in a low, hoarse voice, his eyes locked on mine.
I started to thrust. Just a centimeter at first, like I was just readjusting my cock. Slow, deliberate, and light strokes. I'd used just the right amount of lube. I slid in and out easily, but there was plenty of friction to stimulate us. Charlie's height matched me perfectly. Standing in the shower, the base of my hardon rode firm against his prostate.
Charlie kept grinding and I kept thrusting. He took me, but slowly. An inch, then two. He took the lead. He moaned and pushed against me with enough force to make that wet slapping noise.
"Harder," said Charlie with a hint of command. He braced both hands against the wall. "Deeper!"
I let go of Charlie's nipple with my left hand and gripped his arm at the shoulder. I kept his balls in my right hand, pulling him tight against me. Charlie yelped when I slid almost all the way out and then slammed into him, my hardest thrust yet. My hand gave his balls a firm jolt as I drove him forward.
"Yeah, like that," moaned Charlie. "Fuck me!"
Challenge accepted, I thought.
With Charlie braced against the shower wall, I took him by both hips and started to thrust, hard, deep, and fast.
The bathroom echoed with the noise of my hips smacking Charlie's tight ass, my balls against his taint. Even if he hadn't been grunting and moaning and encouraging me with "yeah" and "there" and "harder," anybody who walked by the cracked bathroom window would know that somebody was getting their cheeks clapped. We didn't care.
I'm usually more of a grinder than a thruster, but I gave Charlie what he wanted. Grinding's better for missionary than it is standing in the shower anyway. "There! There!," he'd shout when I bore down on his prostate. "Fuck me, Jon!"
When I pulled too far back and slipped out, Charlie demanded, "In! Get your dick back in me! In, Jon, fuck me!"
I didn't know how long I could last, even though we'd really just started to really fuck. Charlie's ass was tight and he used it perfectly, flexing and clenching to meet my thrusts. I was already turned on from sucking Charlie's cock. His demanding dirty talk set me on fire.
I fucked him for as long as I could without shooting my load, but I had to slow down sooner than either of us wanted.
With my cock bottomed out, I pulled Charlie away from the wall and wrapped my arms around his chest. "I'm too close," I panted into his ear, nibbling it and kissing up his neck. My hands found his nipples again. Charlie turned his head and kissed me. "Just a little break."
I reached down to massage Charlie's balls as we kissed. I took a risk and fondled his cock, which I found only semihard.
"Sometimes I go soft when I'm getting fucked," he said with a hint of apology.
"Me too," I lied. "Too much stimulation." Charlie groaned in agreement. "Don't worry, baby," I said. "I'll take care of you."
"Fuck me," moaned Charlie, "even if you cum. You can keep going after you cum, right?"
I don't normally go soft after I cum, at least not when I'm with another guy. And once the immediate post-orgasm sensation fades, I can usually keep going without getting over-sensitized. I don't always recharge quickly enough to have another orgasm right away, but the more turned on I am, the more likely I can cum again with only a short break.
"I could fuck you all night," I murmured into his ear. I ground my hips against his cheeks and started to thrust again, slowly at first to make sure I wouldn't cum right away.
At Charlie's urging, I kept my focus on his prostate. He leaned forward and braced against the wall again, bowing his back and spreading his legs wide to give me deeper access.
I gripped Charlie's triceps with one hand and his hip with the other, slamming my cock into him. When I knew I wouldn't cum right away, I kept thrusting with long strokes across Charlie's prostate.
"Yes!" Charlie screamed, "there, there, like that!"
Minutes passed. Long minutes of primal, animalistic fucking. Charlie and I were both panting, gasping, yelping, and moaning.
I was trying to edge, but I knew I couldn't last much longer. Every nerve in my body was singing and Charlie's smutty demands made my head spin. I was ready to cum.
I changed my pace. Instead of long slow strokes, I sped up and slammed Charlie with short hard thrusts. He was in ecstasy. "God," he groaned. "Fuck me Jon! Hard! Yes!" And more.
"Charlie," I groaned, pulling him against my chest as I unloaded into him.
I shot again and again. With each shot, I slammed my swollen cock as deep into Charlie as I could go. The bathroom rang with Charlie's and my pleasure. I slowed my thrusts once I'd stopped cumming.
"Stay in," he moaned, "stay in and keep fucking me, Jon!" He twister back towards me and we kissed deeply.
My legs were wobbly and I saw spots, but I kept thrusting, slower now, with long steady strokes. I partially collapsed against Charlie's back, which put even more pressure on his prostate.
"So good," Charlie purred. "Keep going."
I was still almost fully hard and getting harder as my orgasm faded.
"All night if you want," I laughed with ragged breath.
I reached around for Charlie's cock to test if I could stroke him to completion.
His dick was firmer than before but still closer to soft than hard. He squirmed a little, maybe self-conscious about his lack of erection, so I dropped Charlie's cock and reached for his balls. They were dripping with his precum.
It was time to blow Charlie's mind.
For most of our time in the shower, I'd used my right hand on Charlie's cock and balls and my left hand on his nipple. I switched hands as I leaned into him. Charlie's balls had tightened but I could still manhandle them like he enjoyed. His right nipple seemed more sensitive than his left, or at least he groaned louder when I pinched it. I bit his earlobe at the same time.
Charlie moaned my name and ground down on my dick. I responded with short, hard thrusts. He cried out. If I hadn't know better, I'd have thought it was hurting him, but I knew his screams were in pleasure.
I chanced another squeeze of his cock and found him harder. Charlie started to thrust against my hand, his precum like the finest commercial lube. His breath was ragged and his voice hoarse.
It was now or never.
After a few particularly hard and deep thrusts, I spun Charlie around and dropped to my knees in front of him. He squawked in surprise but then groaned in pleasure as I inhaled his semihard cock.
"Oh my god, Jon! Yeah! Suck my cock!"
I wasn't gentle, at least not at first. I Hoovered him down my throat and then swallowed him to the base of his spongy cock. I started with short strokes, maybe just an inch in and out, my arm wrapped around his waist to hold him in my throat. Charlie was rock hard in less than a minute, his curved meaty cock filling my throat.
I looked up and locked eyes with Charlie as I kept sucking. I avoided the top of his sensitive glans and instead kept my lips wrapped around his shaft. I teased the base of his dickhead, just below the piss slit, as much as I could without over-sensitizing him. He lurched and twitched a few times, but he never stopped thrusting.
"I'm close," Charlie groaned, reaching for his cock.
It wouldn't be a proper blowjob if he used his hand to finish, just some dick-sucking and a facial for me, so I grabbed his wrist to pin his hand against the shower wall. At the same time, I slipped two fingers into Charlie's slick asshole and found his prostate. I swallowed Charlie to his base and kept sucking.
"Cumming, Jon, oh fuck, I'm cumming!"
Charlie started to pull out, but I held him firmly in place.
Charlie's cock swelled to the point of nearly choking me. "Take it," he grunted.
I felt jet after hot jet of his cum hit the back of my throat. He kept thrusting, his screams giving way to moans of pleasure and then exhausted, happy panting. I kept him in my mouth, his fat dickhead buried in my throat and my mouth full of his cum.
While Charlie came down from his orgasm, he continued to thrust against the back of my throat.
My cock was rock hard and leaking. Sucking a guy to completion turns me on like nothing else, and Charlie's blowjob may have been the best I'd ever given. I jerked my cock just a few times and shot another load, splattering my chest and abs with more cum than I thought I had left in me.
I don't know how long we stayed connected, his slowly-softening cock buried in my throat, my mouth lubed up with cum and spit, my arm wrapped around his waist holding him tight against me. Some of Charlie's cum had made its way into my sinuses, so the tears running down my cheeks weren't just because he'd stretched my jaw so wide. Tears of joy, I thought. Tears of bliss.
Charlie pulled his slimy semihard cock out of my mouth with a wet pop. He nearly collapsed. My legs were weak too. We held each other up as we rinsed in the warm shower.
As I soaked in the hot bath the next day, I replayed those memories. Eventually I lost my resolve and began to edge myself. The slippery, soapy water was a great lube, especially mixed with my flowing precum.
For more than an hour, I stroked my cock. I thought about fucking and sucking Charlie, as well as some of my other adventures over the summer. I'd back off when I got close to an orgasm, sometimes oozing a little milky cum with my clear precum. I mostly used my left hand, which helped me to hold back. My balls never retracted in the hot water, so I worked them lightly with my other hand.
When I was ready to cum, I used my left hand to point my cock towards the ceiling and my right to pull down my foreskin to lube myself with precum. I licked my sopping fingers clean. It wasn't as good as Charlie's load, but it helped to push me over the edge. A few quick strokes thinking about Charlie cumming down my throat and I shot ropes. I aimed for my chest but I spattered my cheek and chin instead.
I drove north the next day with Charlie still on my mind. I left the beach around 9:00, after I'd packed the EQ delivery. The two large duffle bags fit into the shadows of the backseat footwells, and I stored the garment bags in the rolling drawers my dad had built. I'd look at it all later. As excited as I was to see the clothing, I was more excited to get to A. Ham.
I swung west to avoid New Jersey traffic and New York City. My route added a few hours to the drive, which gave me time to think, and not just about Charlie.
I left California giddy with the possibility of a future with Dan. I knew back in June that we'd face a lot of challenges, but those challenges now seemed like barriers. With Dan's family, his church, his Mission, and maybe even Dan standing in the way of that possible future, I'd lost all but the faintest hope. I hadn't given it up entirely, but it seemed close to impossible. I'd keep Dan in my heart, but a long-term relationship was beyond my control.
Still, I'd done a good job of controlling what I could control, I thought. When I left California, I was a boy in a man's body. The road changed me. I'd gained strength, muscle, and endurance over the past few months. When I compared a picture my dad took of Dan and me the morning I left with a picture of Charlie and me, I looked bigger, stronger, and older. I thought I also looked grounded.
On the road, I began to think of myself as an adult. Self-reliance fed my confidence, as did all the hot guys I fucked. It may sound self-centered, but I'd be lying if I didn't acknowledge the ego boost I got from other guys thinking I'm sexy. Straight people probably find that confidence naturally after fumbling through awkward high school relationships. I started to learn it on my road trip.
Some of my transformations seemed superficial, better styling and a fancy new wardrobe, but Charlie and others helped me to understand how important my attitude was. Charlie and I had joked a lot about "fake it `til you make it," but I knew there was truth in the jokes. It wouldn't be easy to emulate Charlie's cool swagger, but I'd begun to find my version of swagger on the road. With A. Ham. only a few hours away and growing closer by the minute, my thoughts turned from my months on the road to what would come next. I was more excited than nervous.
Academics would be my biggest challenge, I thought, but I looked forward to being tested. A. Ham. thought I had what it takes, I didn't feel any less prepared than my suitemates seemed, and I'm a very hard worker. I was sure other First Years would be better prepared for college, but I didn't doubt that I could do the work.
I also knew I'd find friends at A. Ham. On the road, I'd met people easily and made some very nice connections, if you know what I mean. Bryce, Carlos, Christian, Jem, Joe, Brady, Dale, Zach, Darrin, Liam, Guy, Andy, Todd, Jules, a few dudes whose names I didn't catch, and especially Charlie, I'm thinking of you. Sam and my cousins too, but that was different.
Thinking about finding my people at college, I had that funny disorienting feeling again. In the next few days, I would probably meet people who would be close friends for the rest of my life. As much as I'd developed on the road, bigger changes were coming.
I already knew I'd be friends with Evan and Justin. Since the Zoom, we'd established a pretty good relationship over text. I could tell they would be easy to live with. We shared enough interests, or had adjacent interests, that I also knew we'd be able to hang out together and not just share a suite.
Through texts, Quiddity and Tee came across as more normal than they had over Zoom. Tee did most of the communicating, so I had a better read on him. He was an easy guy to get along with. If he loved Quiddity, I thought, I could get along with both of them.
Allen concerned me. After acting like an asshole on the Zoom, he'd ignored all of my texts. The other guys said they'd been in touch with him so it seemed personal. I downplayed the issue with the other suitemates, but Evan picked up on it right away.
"Hope we don't have a prob. with Allen," he wrote after I said that I hadn't heard from him. "He's been decent with the rest of us, but a dick to you." A couple of days later, Justin texted something similar. I appreciated that they included me in their "we" and put Allen on the outside. I didn't like the idea of starting college with conflict in our suite, but the problem was Allen's. It felt good knowing that I had allies.
On the Zoom, Allen seemed to hang on every word Quiddity and Tee said, at least once he'd learned about their parents' accomplishments at A. Ham. I worried that the suit would devolve into factions, with me, Evan, and Justin against the others. I didn't think Cutie would take sides if there was a rift, but Q. seemed vain enough that he might want a follower.
Tee dispelled my concern a couple of days before I left for A. Ham., just before he and Q. sailed north. I'd texted to thank him and Q. for bringing so much furniture for our common room and invite them to dinner on Wednesday. "NBD," he replied. "A. Ham.'s going to be hard, we've got to help each other out."
That gave me an idea. "`In union there is strength' (Aesop)," I wrote, even though I was thinking about Lincoln's quote: "The best way to destroy an enemy is to make him a friend."
Before Tee could ask why I was quoting a fable, I added: "A question for you and Q.: you've lived in dorms for the last 4 years, we could use your experience w/ what makes good suitemates."
Tee replied with the thinking guy emoji.
"Don't want to put you 2 on the spot," I replied, "but you know what makes a good suite and probably have horror stories too."
Tee replied with sparkle emojis, which I hadn't seen before. I guess he liked the idea.
For the first time, Q. joined the chat. "Fabulous idea. Consider what's crucial to you & we can discuss on Thurs. Tee can tell the other guys."
Tee replied, "gotta get to the dock, we'll check in on Wed. when we get to NY."
It was cheesy, but I saw no choice but to reply, "Bon Voyage."
When I finally got to Albany, the sun was low in the sky. I'd left summer behind me. Low gray clouds filled the sky and some trees had started to change color. Maples and poplars, I though, the first trees to change in California too. The few people walking around campus wore sweaters or jackets.
The Central Campus's great wrought iron gates stood wide open and welcoming. The sun dropped below the cloud line just as I drove through. For a few fleeting minutes, the campus glowed in the setting sun's warm, golden light. It was a sign, I thought, a welcome omen of what was to come. I couldn't wait to start my next extraordinary adventure.
FIN
Author's notes:
So ends the first book of Jon's adventures. I published the first chapter of Jon's Road Trip in September 2020. It's taken me more time to get Jon from California to A. Ham. than it would take for him to graduate after he arrived on campus. I appreciate your patience.
As well, thank you for your comments, critiques, questions, and suggestions. I've been developing parts of Jon's story for years, but others I wrote after hearing from readers. I appreciate your ideas.
I'll publish the first chapter of Jon's new book soon, tentatively titled "First Year." I expect to continue to publish chapters of the new book under the Cottagecore link.
The new book will start with a deeper introduction to Jon's suitemates than you saw on the Zoom. I'll then return to Jon and his first year at A. Ham. I plan to explore the roommates' perspectives along with Jon's. Jon's story will remain primary, but the suitemates' voices can tell aspects of the story that Jon couldn't tell alone.
I also plan to publish some shorter chapters, vignettes similar to the stories I cobbled into Chapter 8. The vignettes will provide brief glimpses of the characters, revealing moments or interesting events, which are but also part of Jon's larger story. I also hope that using vignettes will allow me to publish some chapters more quickly.
As always, I welcome your feedback. Please let me know if you have questions, comments, criticisms (really), or suggestions. Please let me know what you think of this chapter, the first book, or anything else you'd like to share:
cottagecore.stories@gmail.com
Also, if you can, please donate to Nifty at https://donate.nifty.org/