Hello All, Here is the third part of my story.
Please send me any comments you may have. I love to hear from guys who have read my stuff. My e-mail address is eckhardt@injersey.com.
Please note that this story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons or events is coincidental. It is intended for adults who are not offended by descriptions of male/male sexuality. Do not read it if you are under legal age in your area or if you are offended by such material.
You are free to copy this story for your own use, but please do not modify it in any way or republish it in any forum. Thank you.
Dorm Shower Lover By Greg Eckhardt
Chapter 3
The next couple of weeks were almost unbearable. I couldn't concentrate on anything. The harder I tried not to think about Jeff, the more he came to mind. I realized that I was in bad shape when I flunked a calculus quiz, but I didn't know what to do.
Spring Break came soon after, but I couldn't muster up any enthusiasm for it. With no grandiose plans to live it up in Florida or escape to some exotic destination in the Caribbean, I just crept home and holed myself up in my bedroom. My parents found a pile of chores for me to do, and they paraded me around for the relatives on Easter Sunday. Other than that, I just watched TV, played video games, or read pulpy sci-fi novels. It was juvenile, but then I was feeling like an angst-ridden high school kid, so it suited my state of mind.
My friends thought I was nuts. Not only had I wasted Spring Break by hanging around at home, but once school was back in session, I also blew them off constantly to sit in my dorm room and brood. When I did grace them with my presence, I spent half the time lost in reverie over my predicament. They knew something was up, but I refused to reveal the whole sordid story of my lurid liaisons with Jeff, and I definitely wasn't going to divulge the distressing details of our most recent rendezvous.
That wasn't the worst part, though. I fought to deny it, but even such a champion of repression as myself must eventually face the awful truth: Somewhere along the line, my feelings for him had changed. My "innocent" lust had transformed itself into something else.
Desperately, and utterly in vain, I willed things to return to the way they had been. Unrequited lust I knew how to handle. Having endured that insatiable hunger many times, I was intimately acquainted with it. The men and boys that I had adored from afar were too numerous to count. In high school, it had seemed like my affections found a new object every day. If it wasn't one of my fellow students (Kyle Broderick, the captain of the school soccer team, was a perennial favorite) or one of my younger, more attractive male teachers, it was some cute movie actor or hunky rock star. Those crushes weren't as unsettling as my present situation, however, because I never expected any of them to reciprocate my feelings.
No, it was something entirely different with Jeff. I'd never felt like this before, and it scared me speechless. I wasn't absolutely certain, but I thought I was in love with him. At least, everything that I knew from having read about the subject seemed to point toward that hopelessly romantic condition. I supposed I had "loved" all those others after a fashion, but I never expected anything in return from them. I wanted Jeff to love me back.
Intellectually, I knew that I could not have selected a more unsuitable candidate. Jeff was straight, to all appearances. He had a girlfriend, to whom he was nominally committed. He seemed to regard me as little more than a living sex toy. He simply used me to get his rocks off whenever he was horny. In his mind, there was probably nothing more to our "relationship" than that. Although I had shared his bed, he was, for all practical purposes, as inaccessible as the outermost rim of the known universe. In short, he was hardly boyfriend material for this gay boy.
Why did it have to be Jeff? I railed at my own foolish judgment. I could have fallen in love with that soccer team captain back in high school. Kyle had been cute. He'd been butch. Since he had even turned out to be gay, the odds would have been more in my favor. Unfortunately, though he had stirred my loins, Kyle had never roused my passion.
Without a thought for the consequences, my heart (or whatever gland actually regulates emotions) had blindly gone ahead and picked Jeff. Naturally, it hadn't seen fit to consult me on the matter. It had simply made its choice and left me to deal with the consequences.
Embroiled in the aftermath, I couldn't shake the sinking feeling that Murphy was behind the whole sorry affair. Clearly, he had given my case extra special attention. He'd thrown his law and several corollaries at me. Somewhere he was patting himself on the back for a job exceptionally well done and laughing with unmitigated glee.
Right from the start, I'd suspected that it would be dangerous to get to know Jeff. Now it was too late. Exactly as I had predicted with such dire prescience, I had fallen for him in the worst possible way. Why couldn't I have been wrong?
For the present, all I could do was suffer. There was no way I was going to pursue anything with Jeff. Further sexual escapades were absolutely out of the question, no matter how deeply I longed for him. I refused to succumb to that degree of masochism. It might destroy me in the short run, I told myself, but in the end it would be for the best. My mental and emotional health depended on it. I resolved never to touch him again. Our brief fling was over.
If only it were that easy.
I managed to avoid Jeff for almost a month. A few times, I saw him in the hallway of the dorm, but I always walked in the other direction or ducked into my room before making eye contact. If he realized what I was doing, he gave no indication.
After a while, my efforts at evasion had a positive effect. By distancing myself from Jeff, I began to feel at least somewhat better. I did everything I could to distract myself from even thinking about him. I forced myself to focus on school work, which was actually very therapeutic. My friends helped too. Although they did not know the gory particulars behind the story of my broken heart, they strove valiantly to bring me out of the depression that had taken hold of me. Karen, in particular, took it upon herself to keep me continually occupied. Rare was the night when I was allowed to be alone to dwell on my problems. With so much going on, I didn't have time to wallow in self-pity. It wasn't long before I was back to my old slightly-neurotic-but-basically-well-adjusted self.
My brief return to mental health wasn't meant to last, however. Murphy couldn't allow that. He had a reputation to maintain, after all. The weekend following mid-terms, my precariously stable world was rocked again.
As a result of my dedicated studies, I had done very well on all my exams. Karen and several other of my friends had also gotten high marks. That Saturday night, we all went out to the Roxy, our favorite hang-out, to celebrate. We had a great time, dancing and drinking, talking and carrying on. When the bar closed, we went to a local diner where we had snacks and continued to gab. It wasn't until the wee hours that we finally broke up for the night.
I hadn't had all that much to drink, but I was a little tipsy. Being rather abstemious, I have a very low tolerance for alcohol. It was exceptional for me to drink, since I just don't care for the taste of most alcoholic beverages; but I was in the mood to enjoy myself full tilt that night, so I had imbibed a couple of fairly potent cocktails. They weren't enough to make me seriously inebriated, but they had given me a pleasantly mellow buzz, which lingered when I went back to the dorm.
I was in a cheerful frame of mind as I came up to my door. Standing there, I fiddled with my keys for some long minutes before finding the right one and managing to insert it in the lock. With a giddy giggle, I let myself in.
Sweaty from the exertions of dancing, and reeking of cigarette smoke from the bar, I decided to clean up before turning in. Once inside my room, I changed into my bathrobe and grabbed the necessities. Then I headed over to the showers.
There was no one around when I went into the restroom. I was grateful to have the place to myself. Feeling wickedly self-indulgent, I luxuriated in a long, hot, steamy shower. It was a pleasant way to wind down from the over-stimulation of the club scene. In my mildly intoxicated state, I even began humming to myself.
I had just about finished when I heard someone come in behind me. I glanced over. It was Jeff. Instantly, I became stone-cold sober.
Caught completely off guard, I panicked. I pleaded with whatever gods might exist, begging them to strike me down on the spot. I prayed that I would magically teleport elsewhere, anywhere, preferably someplace immeasurably far away. If it were in any way possible to spontaneously self-combust by pure force of will alone, I would have done so. I would have done anything to escape confronting him.
It took all my self-control to fight the urge to flee, but in reality there was nowhere to run. I felt like a cornered animal, but not one that has been goaded into viciousness. Instead, I was immediately cowed into submission, ready to accept my fate meekly, without struggle.
"Hey, Craig," Jeff greeted me, beaming amiably. He stood in the entryway, in all his naked glory.
"Hi, Jeff," I croaked, unable to take my eyes from his flawless masculine form.
"Fancy meeting you here," he said with a hearty chuckle.
"Yeah," I responded, laughing weakly. "Fancy that."
He moved beneath the shower head next to mine and began adjusting the spigots. "So how've you been? Long time, no see."
"Oh, fine," I babbled with a pretense of politeness. "How about you?"
"Just great," he said enthusiastically. Then, looking deeply into my eyes, he added, "But I missed seeing you."
I gulped. "Well, I've been busy. Mid-terms and all. You know how it is." Otherwise immobile, I managed a spastic shrug.
"Oh, yeah." He washed himself abstractedly while we spoke. "So how'd you do?"
"Great, just great. A's and B's all around. You?"
"Good for you. I didn't do so good myself. Mostly B's, but I got a D in one of my math classes."
"Sorry to hear that," I said, continuing to stand there fixedly. The water coursed down my body merrily, as I watched him perform his ablutions before me.
"Hey, it's my own damn fault. I just didn't study hard enough. Math's always been a tough subject for me."
"Me, too," I agreed, with sincerity. I was starting to feel somewhat more at ease. Maybe we were just going to have an innocuous little chat. There was no harm in that, surely.
Inspired to be more garrulous, I continued, "I've never been that good at math either. My Dad's a math teacher, but I obviously didn't inherit his genes. I usually get C's and the occasional B." As I prattled on, I resumed my shower, casually rinsing off the remains of the soap. "I'm not taking any math courses this semester; otherwise it would have brought down my GPA."
"I wish I could get away with that, but engineers do have to learn math." He paused, then added in a philosophical tone, "Oh, well. What are ya gonna do?"
"Grin and bear it." I chuckled foolishly.
Jeff laughed with me briefly. Then we both became quiet. I couldn't think of anything else to say. I just wanted to get away, but I didn't want to dart out rudely. No, to be honest, I still wanted to look at him. Even if it went no further, I wanted to behold his perfect body a little while longer. I could do that and keep my vow, couldn't I?
For several long minutes, I pretended to continue showering and tried to watch him without appearing to do so. Then, I finally decided that I had to leave. My nerves were so on edge that if I were to stumble and fall, I felt sure that I would shatter like glass.
Jeff's timing was, as usual, impeccable. Just as I was reaching out to turn off the faucets, he spoke again, "So what has you up so late?"
I covered my actions by pretending to rinse off my arms. "Oh, I was just out clubbing with some friends. We were sort of celebrating the fact that mid-terms are over and that we all did well."
"That's cool." He had apparently finished washing himself and just stood beneath the spray as it continued to gush over him. "Any excuse to party, right?"
"Yeah, I guess so."
That was his opening. "So you up to party some more, just you and me?" He leered suggestively and started to play with himself.
I froze, like that cornered animal again, only this time held transfixed by oncoming headlights. Helplessly, I just waited to be run over. It was suicide, but I didn't care. I'd lost my resolve. Deep down, I wanted to be roadkill. If Jeff was the vehicle, I'd gladly throw myself in his path.
Against all sense and sanity, I murmured, "Sure."
We didn't say anything after that. I lost my voice, and Jeff had no need for words. I waited mutely for him to make the first move.
He did, in short order. Without hesitation or distraction, he moved towards me. He had worked his cock to a full erection. Mine wasn't far behind, and I hadn't even touched it. To my surprise, Jeff reached out and grasped me roughly. Without letting up on his own dick, he began to stroke mine. He wasn't gentle, but it felt amazing to have another man's hand touch me like that. He pulled me away from the showerhead, and we moved towards the middle of the chamber.
All the while, he peered directly into my eyes, almost defiantly. It was as if he were trying to keep me prisoner with the sheer intensity of his gaze. If so, his efforts were successful; I had neither the will nor the desire to move.
Jeff held me like that for several minutes, stroking me with his hand and binding me with his eyes. He broke away only to spit into his palm, which he again wrapped around my shaft. His hand was strong, and he gripped my cock tightly. The saliva lubricated his movements slickly as he rubbed his hand back and forth.
It was indescribably pleasurable. Uncontrollably, I threw back my head and moaned. I became lost in the physical sensations that consumed my body. My knees wobbled, threatening to give out from under me.
Jeff smiled at my obvious rapture. He knew he had brought me right to the brink. Letting go of his own dick momentarily, he reached out and cupped my balls, feeling their heft as he rolled them in his palm. He tugged them firmly, but not painfully.
How he knew to do that, I couldn't imagine, but it drew me back from the edge. I tapped his hand lightly, signaling him slow down the rate at which he worked it back and forth over my shaft. I continued to revel in the pleasure of his attentions, but I was no longer in imminent danger of losing control.
Jeff returned the hand that had clutched my balls to his own cock. He resumed stroking it as he continued to masturbate me. His pace jerking himself off was faster than he did me. He knew I could be made to cum in an instant.
Through it all, he watched me, with a curious smile on his face. Then, without warning, he withdrew his hand. For a split-second, I was puzzled, missing his touch already, but he made his intentions almost immediately clear.
Jeff kneeled down in front of me and leaned in towards my crotch. Still fisting himself with one hand, he grabbed my dick again with his free one. He jerked me a couple of times for good measure, before putting his mouth by the head of my cock. He touched his lips to it lightly, as if he were kissing it.
I nearly keeled over in shock. I couldn't believe he was doing this. If our other encounters had been surreal, this was even beyond fantasy.
Withdrawing a fraction, he darted his tongue at my cock-head several times quickly, like a serpent tasting the air. His motions were tentative at first, as if he weren't sure he would go any further, but to my infinite joy, he did continue. With more assurance, he licked under my cock-head and across the piss-slit. As he grew more comfortable, he began to lave the breadth of his tongue all around my cock-head and the upper part of my shaft.
I squirmed with pleasure. Unable to produce even the basest of animal noises, I was left dumb by the intensity of the experience. It was almost too much to bear.
Evidently enjoying his new avocation, Jeff grew more adventurous. He opened his mouth and tried to swallow my thick seven inches. It must have been a challenge for him. Although my dick is not as long as his, it has a greater girth, not quite the proverbial beer can, but certainly well above average. He was persistent, though. Relaxing his jaw, he managed to engulf the first couple of inches of my shaft.
It was obvious that Jeff was a novice at this, but he did have some natural talent. His mouth was hot and wet as he swirled his tongue all around my cock inside his oral cavity. He lacked any sophisticated technique, but it was still the best blowjob of my life.
There was no way that I could hold out long under the circumstances. The sensation was too overpowering, and I was too excited. I began to thrust my hips involuntarily as the initial waves of the inevitable explosion overtook my body. In a paroxysm of bestial instinct, I thrust my cock rapidly in and out of Jeff's mouth.
He knew right away what was happening. Had I been in a more coherent state of mind, I might have expected him to back off, but he didn't. Rather, he accepted my lead and held firm while I fucked wildly into his mouth.
A few heartbeats later, I let fly with a hoarse groan, my load blasting into his mouth. My cock ejaculated volley after volley of thick seed, as I was gripped with a paralyzing orgasm. It seemed to go on and on, a cascading convulsion of ecstasy. I was almost bent double by the power of it. If it hadn't been for Jeff, whom I leaned on to keep my balance, I would undoubtedly have toppled over.
When I returned to my senses, Jeff was busily licking my cock free of the last remnants of my climax. To my astonishment, he had swallowed my entire load. The sensation of his tongue working over my cock-head, which had been so exquisitely pleasurable, was now downright excruciating. Unconsciously, I jerked away from him.
He looked up at me, with a smile. "Too much, huh?"
"Oh, yeah," I agreed throatily. "That was intense."
"Well, I'm glad I was able to satisfy," he said with a chuckle.
"That you did." I grinned back at him awkwardly, embarrassed by my outrageous display.
"I sure shot one hell of a load. Who'd've thought that giving a blowjob could be so hot?"
Feeling a trail of jism running down the inside of my leg, I realized that he must have shot off right when I did. "I could have told you that!"
"Now I would believe you," he laughed. Getting to his feet, he moved back under the showerhead, which had been running the entire time. He rinsed himself off unselfconsciously.
I followed suit, sliding back to my original spot. Silently, I washed myself clean. Now that my lust was satiated, my conscience began to assert itself. The feeling of mild depression that usually follows orgasm was accompanied by an overwhelming resurgence of guilt and self-loathing. How could I have allowed this to happen? With nary a backward glance, I had cheerfully broken that promise to myself.
I wanted to blame Jeff. How dare he be so obscenely gorgeous. How dare he be so obnoxiously friendly. How dare he keep throwing himself at me so wantonly. It was all his fault.
I couldn't look into those glacially blue eyes without my resolve melting into a puddle. I couldn't gaze at that boyishly cute face framed with its tousled black hair and thin goatee, without being mesmerized into a trance. I couldn't even be near him without totally losing any ability to think rationally. If I weren't so helplessly infatuated with him, so desperately in love with him, I would have gladly murdered him for making me so miserable.
"Have a good night," Jeff called out affably as he retreated out the door. I had been so wrapped up in my own thoughts that I hadn't even seen him turn off the water and start to leave.
"Yeah, you too," I managed to shout, but he was already gone.