Statement of Intent: "Hometown College" (t/t, mbn) is about spiritual and sexual love between consenting teenage males. If the story is offensive or illegal for you to read, then don't. Otherwise, enjoy! All persons, places, and events in this story are entirely fictional, the product of the author's imagination.
Statement of Ownership and Copyright: Copyright (c) 2006 by the author known by the pen name, Henry Higgins, who reserves all rights accorded by United States copyright law. The story is for your enjoyment. Do not post, sell, or otherwise transfer the story to anyone else without the author's express, written consent.
Comments are welcome at escribir12@hotmail.com.
Hometown College by Henry Higgins
When I graduated from high school, it was not cool to go to our hometown college. Lots of kids in our school went away to snob schools like Princeton and Harvard. Others went to Big 10 schools. Still others chose a state university. Only poorer students and the socially challenged went to the hometown school. My parents were financially comfortable, but not wealthy. Moreover, I didn't feel ready to go to college too far away. So that September, I registered at a state university about 50 miles from our town and in a neighboring state -- just far enough for me to feel independent, yet where I could still go back home every now and then so my mom could do my laundry.
State universities out West traditionally have strong agricultural departments and my new school was no exception. Besides all the regular start-of-school activities, we also enjoyed the high jinks of some ag students who got drunk one night and decided to put a pig in an elevator in one of the girls' dorms. Classes started off sedately for freshmen and I tried to blend in.
Fall in the foothills of the Rockies is a gradual thing. Early October is still as warm as September. Not until late October, do nights turn crisp and leaves begin to turn golden or brown before dropping from their trees. Still, the days are warm and the sunshine brilliant. It was one of my favorite times of the year. The whole world seemed full of promise and change. That fall term, I studied fairly hard, got a job at the campus radio station, and made passing grades. Was life good, or what?
Somehow, I missed the fraternity rush season -- probably because I was too wrapped up in adjusting to living alone, or rather mostly alone. My roommate didn't spend much time in his dorm room. So, I found it easy to spend more time at the radio station, even when I wasn't working.
A local high school kid used to hang out around that station, seemingly interested in the electronics and maybe hoping that someone might pay him some attention. Most of the other college kids who worked at the station tried to ignore him. But with spare time on my hands and he seeming lonely like me, I started to spend some time with him. Before long, Tim and I grew closer and were spending even more time together.
My roommate went home every weekend, staying on campus no more than absolutely necessary. When I asked him about Tim staying over on a weekend, he said it would be okay for the boy to sleep in his bunk. Soon, Tim was spending every weekend with me. I didn't mind. He seemed to need a friend and most weekends were lonely for me, too. I learned that Tim lived with his grandparents because his mother couldn't afford to have him with her. He didn't know where (or who) his father was. I felt sorry for him. But more than me being kind to him, he was also a good friend for me at a time when I was coping with the loneliness of accepting myself for who I was. Back then there was no support for gay kids the way there is today.
Besides that, he was one great-looking kid -- just the way I had always wished I could look -- lean torso, broad shoulders, sandy hair, blue-gray eyes, and a dick that I drooled over. I could see that Tim looked up to me, so I did my best to be a worthy companion and model for him. But oh, did I lust after his body!
About the third weekend he stayed with me at the dorm, we had returned from the movies, talked for a while, done our bathroom things, and then turned out the light to get some sleep. I had been horny all day and that movie didn't help any, so I shucked my shorts off under my sheet and began to jack off quietly so as not to disturb Tim. All I could think of was his hot body in the bunk on the other side of the room.
I was getting into it pretty well when I heard Tim roll over. From what I could tell in the dim light of the room, he was facing me.
"Carey?"
I stopped jacking and just held it. "Yeah, Tim."
"I been wondering about something."
"What's that?"
"Well you know, you're my very best friend now and I feel like I can talk to you about anything."
"Yeah?"
"My granpop caught me jacking off yesterday and told me if I didn't stop that I'd go blind or crazy or something. Is that really true?"
I thought for a minute as I carefully formed a reply. My hard-on had gone a little soft, but my dick still felt warm and full in my hand where it nested. With my other hand, I adjusted my balls and played with my sac a little.
"Tim, I've heard those tales, too. But that's all they are, just tales. I think it's just something that grownups have told kids for a long time to keep them from jacking off. It's not true. Jacking off won't hurt you unless you do it so much that you rub your dick raw and break the skin."
Tim snickered at this. "Well I've done that some. And then it's hell waiting for it to heal. Jacking off just feels so good!"
"Yeah, I know." I smiled at the irony -- there I was, dick in hand as I gave my younger friend advice about jacking off.
"Do you do it?" he asked.
"Yeah. Everybody does it," I replied. "Well maybe not everybody, but almost everybody. I've read that about 98% of men and boys in a study admitted that they had jacked off at some time in their lives."
"Yeah, and the other 2% were lying, right?" He giggled.
I chuckled, "Well, yeah. I think you're right." I was still horny and this talk about jacking off had gotten me ramrod hard again. I stroked slowly under the sheet.
"Carey?" His voice was softer now, almost hesitant.
"Yeah, Tim?"
"What do you think about guys jacking each other off? Do you think that's queer?"
"No," I replied. My heart raced. "I think queer is when you get older and realize that you aren't attracted to girls as much as to guys. But guys like you and me jacking each other off -- that's just playing around."
Tim was silent for a while. I jacked slowly and waited breathlessly for what I hoped would come next. Tim stayed quiet, so I jumped into the breach.
"Tim?"
"Yeah, Carey?"
"Were you thinking about us jacking each other off? Because if you were, I want you to know that I think it would be okay. In fact, I've been jacking off since you started talking!"
"Oh man! Carey! You really mean that? I've been lying over here so hard I'm about to pop. You really mean that we could jack off together?"
"Sure buddy, come on over!"
Tim emerged from the shadowy other side of the room to appear at my bedside, his hard dick silhouetted against the faint light coming in the window from the parking lot outside. I reached for it, grabbed it, and kissed it. He giggled and pulled away, ticklish and jumpy. I reached out further with both arms to pull him in closer to me, where I could smell his pubes and brush the soft, wiry hair against my cheek as his long hard dick bounced against my neck and shoulder.
"Come on into bed, you!" I said. Tim readily slid under the sheet and up next to me. He had to be up next to me because the single beds weren't very wide. My ass was against the cool plaster wall, and I held both arms around him tightly, exploring his fine, smooth young form and relishing his warmth. He snuggled right in to me, seemingly happy with where he was. I found my shorts in the bed and spread them in front of his pubic area.
I put my fat, curvy dick between his legs so that it lay right up in his warm crotch, poking out to nuzzle the back of his ball sac. Then I reached over and grasped his slim six-incher and began to stroke the ample skin back and forth over his hard shaft as I thrust gently into his crotch. My left arm was under his neck so that I could reach his chest and play with his left nipple.
"Oh Carey! You feel so hot, just like I've always dreamed. Oh, man, that feels so good!"
We were both worked up, so it didn't take Tim long before he tensed and shot into my waiting left hand. I caught a lot of it, but some dribbled down onto the shorts. Oh well, I could just say I had had a wet dream if my mom ever asked. But, she probably never would. As my slim friend slowly came down, we lay there snuggled against each other.
"Okay," he said, turning over and not noticing that I had lapped up his load off my hand. "Now let me do you."
I obliged by scooting over towards the other side of the bed so that he could get on my right, next to the wall. He knelt at my hips and started to jack me -- gently, almost reverently. I fondled him, playing with his dick and balls, smoothing away the fluid that still leaked from his dick. As with him, it didn't take me long to reach that point where all the cum that I had stored up for the past few days came gushing out of my dick in an explosion of pleasure that far surpassed any of my solitary ministrations.
"OOHhhhhh," was all I could manage as I shuddered and circled the moon. He slowed his jacking as my throbbing subsided, cum lying in little puddles from my face down to my belly button. I reached down into the box of tissues that I kept on the floor near my bed and handed him several, which he used to wipe me off. Then he snuggled back into the spoon position from which we had started. We both drifted into a deep sleep that lasted until morning.
Thus began what would become a weekly routine for us over the next two years. Tim graduated from high school and got a scholarship to what for him was his hometown college. And for him, that was okay. When he started at the university, we roomed together for the rest of the time I was in school. When I graduated, I took a job at a local company and Tim and I moved into a house just off campus. We never once broke what became a nightly routine, even though by then we had enlarged our repertoire considerably.