"Extra Hands at College, Part Two" by Jay Roberts Gay College
I underdressed Buck and left him naked in bed. I know he was furious that he was so dependent on me and that I was seeing his everything. As for me, well it was a hard job but I was a willing volunteer.
In the coming days I did the cooking. Buck complained after each meal, but to my surprise, he did thank me for the effort and also each thing I did for him.
Peeing and shitting was not too difficult. He went himself and somehow managed to wipe himself as well. I would have gladly held his nice plump weapon if he asked. Yes I am always ready to help.
The third evening I came back from class with two six packs. His eyes lit up and he began salivating as I popped them open. While I get drunk fast and easy, Buck was an old hand and the only effect it had on him was to cause him to lower his guard and made him chatty. I learned that he had allowed me to believe that he had a big sex life. It was true that he was popular and had lots of dates, but he had never "done it" since that wonderful time at age eleven with the Polish woman. I bet if I said the word Polish, he'd get hard.
Well with us getting drunker by the minute, I felt I could tell him. "You need a bath. You're ripe as Limburger." And patting his check, I said, "You're my little Bucky Cheese Boi."
To my amazement he chuckled and smiled broadly, then clearing his throat, he said, "Exactly what do you twisted sisters do with each other? Lots of ass fucking I bet."
It took me by total surprise. He never discussed my activities before. I corrected him though, "I'm not into ass stuff, I guess I'm a little dainty for that. Other stuff is pretty much the same as with boys and girls. Hey, you want me to help you clean up?"
"Later." he said lazily. "Do they do hand jobs?"
"Sure. Why you ask?"
He rubbed his crotch under the sheet. This was a gesture I always loved. It always held out promise of more. "I can't hardly get off. I tried rubbing the sheet but my hand can't hold me up. I'm frustrated. Can you be...sort of...a friend with benefits?"
He was in acute embarrassment and I was not going to let him off easy. After all, I've been suffering just living with him and lately with him naked all the time. "You mean, you want me to...eh...stimulate you?"
"Fucking yes, make me shoot. Oh hell, this is torture talking about...."
He stopped talking as he felt the sheet being lowered and my warm hand lifting his slightly plumping up cock. I watched his face, his usually large, round, open blue eyes slitted as he felt a rush a blood going south. But the best was his letting out and long "o-o-o-h" sound as I swiped my thumb over his blunt cock head. Everyone needs encouragement in their work. My work here was pleasant enough as I felt his cock making hard jumps as it stretched to stiffness.
I decided to get to the main event and gave a soft cupped hand shag. His mouth was slack and he let out a loud moan. His knees rose and gave me more access. Was he hinting, unconsciously, that he wanted me to touch his hidden area.
This boy really likes getting stroked. He was dripping spit and almost continuously chanting a pleasure song. A satisfied customer is a return customer, right? I cupped his big balls in mt other hand. The sac spilled out over my hand, it was so large. I squeeze gently and he crowed louder. The boy likes his eggs coddled, I realized. Some guys get nothing out of ball play. He tried swinging his balls back and forth and he choked with pleasure. Hey, I ought to advertise. I'm really good at this. True, I had lots of personal practice.
His moans seemed to become warning calls. I knew he had such full balls that he wouldn't be able to hold on too long. His legs were shaking now and his eyes were tightly shut. As I watched, his mouth screwed up as in pain. But you and I know, it's not pain, it's orgasmic transport.
He hiccupped a few times and then his prick got longer and stiffer and his thighs began a fuck motion. His cries now were almost sobs. Suddenly every thing stopped. His cock seemed to retract into itself ad then the first spurt happened. Not a big one. It landed on his tight belly, glistening there like a broken string of pearls, but then ht cried out and the second one spurted. The second one is usually the biggest one and his shot in an arc and hit his chin, right in the pretty cleft. Then as he helplessly mewled and thrashed about, six more heavy shots covered in chest, pubic hair and stomach. It was almost as if he was in the throes of agony.
As last it ended and he lay there in a post cum pass out. Then I began to worry. Was this going to be one of those straight guys regretting his gay adventure and wanting to take it out of the gay boy? But no, he gradually relaxed his face and began to smile. He only said, "Nice." Then brightening he suggested we both get in the shower and told me to cover his lhands with plastic bags, "and rubber bands," he instructed.
I took off my own clothes. "Leave your briefs on. I don't want to see your big unit."
How did he know? He must have peeked. I was delighted.
The shower went well and it was quick. I now knew every inch of his body and every inch of his prick and how his foreskin operated. I may reconsider my major and go into engineering.
What happened the next morning was interesting.
End Part Two