"IF YOU DON'T STOP COMPLAINING..."
Author's Note: As with "A Hot Tub Story," everything that follows is 100% true based on my memories. Nothing has been added, and there is no hyperbole or exaggeration. Only the names have been changed to protect a straight guy who might rather forget that this ever happened. I did not forget, though.
Further note: While I only recently discovered nifty.org, the site has been around and archiving gay stories for more than 30 years. Running a website costs money, and nifty.org does not rely on ad revenue. If you enjoy this or other stories on this site, please consider making a donation of any size at https://donate.nifty.org.
It was mid-August, 1993, at my college in Northeastern Ohio. I was 19 years old and had already been there for a solid week as a member of the marching band to learn music and drills for the half-time show of the home football games. It would still be another week before classes started. That late afternoon had been still, hot, and humid -- the kind of heavy, oppressive heat where it feels difficult to breathe. I had just spent the past three hours in the sun on the practice field playing the same 40 bars of music over and over while moving in formation with the rest of the band.
I was living in the slightly-off-campus "honors house" owned by the college. It was an old two-story residential home that had been purchased by the school at some point and converted into student housing. Both floors had been remodeled into eight dorm rooms -- three on the first floor and five on the second. There was also a small lobby area with a television, couch, and chair, though it was not directly adjacent to the doors used for entry.
As I entered the building, I heard an unfamiliar voice from the lobby, mildly cursing. I had lived in the "honors house" the previous year and would have recognized the voice if it had been any of the returning students, so I deduced that this must be an incoming Freshman. Though tired, sweaty, and undoubtedly reeking from the summer afternoon marching in the sun, I decided to be friendly. I detoured from the stairs leading up to the second floor to say hello.
I rounded the corner to see who was in the lobby. Sitting on the couch was a solitary figure staring at the television with a frustrated look on his face. He was slightly husky with a fair complexion and sandy blonde hair. He wore a green button-down shirt with short sleeves and blue shorts. Freckles dotted his arms, and he was holding the television's remote control clenched in his right hand, jabbing at it with his left index finger.
"Problems?" I asked.
The Freshman jumped, obviously startled. His pale blue eyes scanned quickly to find the source of the voice before his posture softened. "This piece of shit isn't working," he said. Something about the slightly hesitant way he said "shit" made me think that he did not swear much, if at all, and he was using his first day on campus to rebel a little from his parent's rules.
"It might be the batteries," I replied. "It's probably the same ones from last semester."
"Oh," he said blinking. The look on his face suggested that he had hadn't considered such a simple possibility.
"You living here?" I asked.
"Yeah. I moved in today."
"Then tell the RA about the remote when you see him," I instructed, "and he can get fresh batteries. If that's not the problem, he'll know what to do next. Until then, you'll have to get up and push the buttons on the TV yourself"
"O.K.," said the blonde sheepishly. "Do you live here, too?"
"Yeah. Second floor. The door right at the top of the stairs."
His eyes lit up a little. "I'm next door to you." He stood up. "Jim. Jim Ogee." He paused. "Like the fabric."
I blinked. I had no idea what he was talking about. "Nathan McGee," I offered. "Look, I need to get cleaned up a little, then I'm heading to the cafeteria to get some food."
"Oh," said Jim, slightly confused. "O.K."
Figuring he was new to the campus, I asked, "Do you know where the cafeteria is?"
He hesitated slightly before he replied,"I think so."
I didn't believe for an instant that he knew how to get to the cafeteria from here. "Have you eaten?" I asked.
"No."
"Give me a couple of minutes, and you can come with me."
His face brightened a bit. "Yeah. That sounds good."
Over the next several days, we got to know each other a bit in the late afternoons after my marching band practice. Where I had come to the college from a tiny far-away town in a different region of the country, he was from an adjacent county. We both knew a little bit of American Sign Language, though he knew more than I did. We shared some interests, but not a lot, and our birthdays were only a few days apart. As we were the only people who had moved into the "honors house" this early due to our school commitments, we would usually spend time together when we were both free, becoming friends rather quickly.
I had known I was gay from a very young age. In Kindergarten, I was firmly convinced that I was going to marry a boy in my class. (Spoiler alert: I did not.) At one point in middle school, I had spent time every day for about a month staring into the bathroom mirror, saying to myself out loud "You're gay. Now what are you going to do with that?"
I had never had any mutual sexual experience with a man to that point, either. Sure, I had sucked a couple of cocks in while I was in high school (which I really enjoyed), but nothing had ever been reciprocated. I had never even kissed a man before, though I had kissed young women a few times and wondered "what's the point of that?"
I had not yet come out of the proverbial closet to anyone. I had considered doing it in my first year of college, but the prevailing anti-gay sentiment when I arrived made me decide not to do that. I was definitely tired of hiding his part of myself from everyone who thought they knew me, but I had not yet gotten up the courage to actually say the words to anyone but myself.
Jim was the first person I came out to. We were in the lobby of the "honors house," with him sitting on the couch and me on the chair. Not knowing how he would react, I couldn't bring myself to actually say it. I resorted to Sign Language. I wasn't even sure he was looking at me when I did it. I tapped my chest and then tapped the sign for the letter "g" to my chin. "I'm gay."
Jim's head jerked around and looked at me for a moment. He appeared to be considering. He hesitantly raised one hand and tapped his forehead twice. "I know." He then placed one hand flat with the palm up in front of him and touched it at a ninety-degree angle with his other open-palmed hand. He quickly brought the top hand up in a short movement. "It's all right."
Our friendship continued. While he now knew that I was gay, he was resolutely straight. He was seeing a girl that had gone to his high school and was reasonably serious about that relationship. We didn't really talk about the fact that I was now a slightly-open homosexual, but it felt like it would have been O.K. to do so if I had wanted to. While my sexuality was acknowledged, we did not discuss it.
After the other students arrived on campus, I'd visit him and his roommate in their room to hang out, and he would come to mine. He respected my privacy and did not reveal my secret to others, but I slowly opened up to a few other select people -- though not to anyone in the "honors house." A few weeks passed.
One evening, he was in my room, complaining about various aspects of his life, as friends sometimes do to each other. I offered support, encouragement, and suggestions for a full hour. He continued to gripe, growing slightly agitated, and my patience began to wear thin. I had an assignment to complete for one of my classes, and I couldn't work on it with him there on my bed, looking at the ceiling, and talking constantly.
"Jim," I finally said, "you know I'm gay. If you don't stop complaining, I'm going come over there and kiss you." Abruptly, he changed the subject to something more pleasant. After a few minutes, he left my room.
I smiled to myself like I had made an important discovery. It had been a stone-cold bluff on my end, but I had figured out how to get him out of my dorm room if I wanted to. I had no intention of following through with the threat. While Jim was pleasant-looking and I generally enjoyed his company, it would have felt like some kind of violation if I had just walked across the room and kissed him.
About a week later, he was in my room again. He was also complaining again, this time about events when he was in high school. He was sitting on the floor, and I was on my bed. I only gave him about fifteen minutes this time. "Jim, if you don't stop complaining about this, I'm going to kiss you."
He looked up at me with a smirk. I could see him deciding that I was not going to do it no matter what I said. He continued talking about things done two years ago by people I had never met. "Jim," I warned, "you know what's going to happen if you keep this up."
He almost seemed to take this as a dare. There was more talk about the same people and the same topic. I got off the bed and sat next to him on the floor, my face only a few inches from him. "Jim," I said one more time, warningly.
Inwardly, my mind was running wild. I was not sure I was going to have the courage to carry out my threat. If I didn't follow through, though, I could never use this ploy again. This was my straight friend, but he was also the one pushing the boundary I had set. He had to deal with the consequences, right? My thoughts circled around the same "do I or don't I" progression.
Jim looked me square in the eye and started talking about the same people and events again. I took a breath, closed my eyes, and moved in. I lightly brushed my lips against his, lingering only for a couple of seconds before I slowly pulled away. Our lips were slightly dry, and they stuck to each other ever so slightly as I moved my head back from his. My top lip released first, and then the bottom. "My first kiss!" I exulted internally.
I opened my eyes and released a shuddering breath. Whereas my limited experience of a few kisses with girls had been very "meh," this kiss was not. While light, brief, and gentle, it was emotionally intense for me. I could feel my blood surging and my heart began to pound a little. I suddenly realized what all the fuss was about, and I wanted more.
Jim looked at me for a moment, looking slightly confused. It looked like he didn't comprehend what had just happened. He stuttered for a moment before continuing this story about people I had never met doing things I didn't care about.
A favorite saying of my grandmother's -- "In for a penny, in for a pound" -- flashed through my mind. I inwardly shrugged, figuring I had already done this once and he hadn't reacted badly to it. I had warned him; the consequences were on his shoulders. I closed my eyes, leaned in, and pressed my lips more firmly against his, holding them there. "This time I'm going to shut him up," I thought to myself.
His lips stiffened, and then they softened. After a few seconds, they parted. I felt the tip of his tongue lightly touching my lips. "Holy fuck!" my brain interjected. "Is this really happening?"
I responded to his tentative probing by opening my own lips slightly, and his tongue began feeling the inside of my upper lip. I opened my jaw a little and extended just the tip of my own tongue, and it was immediately welcomed by Jim's. He began exploring my mouth more fully while I remained hesitant.
I was not thinking clearly or even coherently at this point. "Holy fuck," I repeated to myself over and over, unable to come up with any other way to express what I was feeling. "Holy fuck, holy fuck. Kiss. Jim. KISS. Holy. Fuck!"
I decided to go for broke. I reached my hand behind Jim's head and embraced it, pulling him into me as I opened my mouth more fully and extended my tongue into his mouth. He made no attempt to pull back, and he reached up with both of his own hands to hold my cheeks briefly before sliding one behind my head and pulling me into an even deeper kiss.
I'm not sure how or when our shirts came off. We were beginning to sweat in the late summer heat, and my thin tanned chest slid across his paler and wider body a we grasped at each other. We clutched at each other tightly, running our hands along each other's backs and through each other's hair as our teen-aged hormones took control of our bodies.
After a several minutes, Jim pulled away. I moaned slightly to myself. "He's realized what we're doing," I thought. "He's going to put on his shirt, leave, and he's not going to be my friend anymore. I've fucked this up." I had already started to mourn the loss of the tentative bond that we had until I opened my eyes and looked into his face.
Jim was making no movements to find his shirt or put it back on. Squinting slightly, he looked at me with his pale blue eyes, breathing heavily. He leaned forward until his forehead was just barely touching mine with our damp hair plastered against our foreheads. His eyes stared into mine. In a breaking voice, he quietly spoke two words. "Fuck me."
Had I heard him right? I was a hopeless virgin, having only just gotten my first real kiss. Was Jim actually asking what I thought he was asking? Maybe it was just wishful thinking on my part and he had said something else. I pulled my head back slightly and whispered, "What?"
He took a breath, and seemed to steady himself a little. In a clearer and more confident voice, he repeated, "Fuck me."
"Oh, Jesus," I thought. "This is happening."
Jim removed his remaining clothes, laid on his back on the floor, and reached for me. I fumbled with the button and zipper on my jeans, struggling to open them. My hormones had my thoughts racing, and I was having trouble making my fingers work properly. When I had finally opened the front, Jim took my hand and pulled me down on top of him.
Somehow, my jeans and boxer shorts also came off. I don't remember removing them, nor do I remember Jim doing it for me. We rolled around on the floor, bathing each other in our sweat, panting as we kissed each other's faces and necks. Our bodies entwined as we slid every part of ourselves against each other. Hesitantly, I reached down and felt Jim's smallish but stiff cock. Both of us inhaled sharply. "Are you sure about this?" I breathed.
He responded nonverbally, pushing me off of him. Before my mind could register any disappointment from the sudden loss of physical contact, he turned around and got on his hands and knees, exposing his meaty and hairless ass to me. It was pale as a piece of paper, with a couple of small blemishes on one side. Jim took a deep breath, lowered himself to rest on his elbows, and then he leaned backwards towards me.
In my inexperience, I still couldn't quite believe this was happening. My mind still reeled from teen-aged lust and how fast things were progressing. No one had ever even touched me in a sexual way before that evening, but I had been rolling around on the floor naked with this young man that I had met only weeks before. Hell, I was still excited and thrilled that I had my first real kiss.
And yet there I was, with my new friend naked and obviously offering himself to me. I wasn't sure I knew what to do, much less how to do it.
Jim sensed my hesitation, and he crawled backward until he could feel my body. He didn't say a word as he positioned himself so that my cock between his ass cheeks. I nervously pushed forward slightly, and my dick slid up between the cleavage of his crack and pointed up at me. Jim gave a slight shudder leaned back, sliding against me.
I closed my eyes and took a breath, trying to steady myself and calm my thoughts. I wasn't sure if he was ready for this (or even if I was), but I was going to try. The moment just seemed too perfect. I just hoped that I did it right, because I didn't know what I was doing.
I put my right hand on the small of Jim's back and backed away slightly, freeing my cock from his buttcheeks. I reached up with my left hand and licked my first two fingers generously. I reached down, feeling. The skin in the cleft of his ass was smooth and hot to the touch. As my hand curved underneath him towards his small, tight ballsack, I felt a sudden change in the texture of his skin, almost a roughness. Jim backed up against my fingers, and I realized with a shiver that this must be his asshole. This is where he wanted me to go inside him.
As excited as I already was, there were suddenly butterflies in my stomach. Nervously, I bent my spit-covered middle finger inwards, pushing against his hole, and it slid in to the first knuckle. Jim inhaled sharply and groaned in a low voice.
"Are you all right?" I asked apprehensively. I hadn't even started anything, really, and I was sure I had just done something awful.
Jim audibly swallowed. After a moment, he nodded and began pulling forward ever so slightly and then pushing back again. He was using my middle finger to start to fuck himself. His insides were so tight and warm that it felt like they were sucking on my finger. After a couple of minutes, he was taking my finger all the way down to where it joined my hand.
Suddenly, Jim tensed his body and pulled forward. My finger came out of him, and he rested forward on his elbows, taking quivering breaths. Before I could say anything, Jim raised his head. He did not look back at me. Looking only straight forward, he repeated in a rough and insisting voice. "Fuck. Me."
"OK," I said to myself. "This is it." I licked my left hand again to use it lubricate my cock, and I tasted Jim's ass on my finger. I almost buckled from the mix of pleasure and anticipation. The taste of Jim on my finger, the smells of our sweat, the sounds of our breathing and groaning, the sight of Jim's smooth and bare ass, and the touch of his skin against mine combined together and almost overwhelmed my senses. Wrapping my wet hand around my rod, I moved forward to place the head of my cock against the place where my finger had just been.
Without warning, Jim pushed backwards with some force, and the head of my dick was suddenly inside him. Jim gave a short cry and froze. He quivered slightly, and his breath came in ragged gasps. I placed my hands lightly on each of his hips and pulled him slightly backward.
"Wait" he said. His voice was unsteady and pitched higher than normal. It almost sounded like he was crying. I would later learn first-hand that the first moment of insertion can be painful if things aren't well-lubricated and lined up just right. At the time, I was completely ignorant of this fact of life. Nevertheless, I followed Jim's instruction and just stayed as still as I could.
After a few more minutes, Jim started to slightly rock back and forth again again, pushing and pulling against my dick with his hole. There was no actual in-and-out movement, as my cock was tightly clenched by his hole. I noticed his rhythm, and I tried to match it. When he rocked forward, I pulled back a bit. When he leaned into me, I pushed slightly forward.
I felt something like seal break around my dick, and I suddenly slid in a little further. Jim whimpered but did not stop his motions. He began moving a little more, slowly going ever-so-slightly further and further back and forth, sliding more and more easily along my length.
Before I knew it, Jim had pushed back all the way so that his ass pressed against me as I pushed forward, and we held ourselves there for a moment. Jim remained on his elbows and knees, gasping for air, and I held him from behind with my hips pushed forward and my hands gripping him around the waist.
We had been lubricated by nothing more than my spit and our sweat, and my young cock was now as fully inside him as I could get. The overwhelming pleasure from having pushed into him all the way -- and then holding still -- cannot be easily described. The heat of his insides and the almost too-tight grip that he had around me was very nearly too much for my 19-year-old mind to comprehend. My cock was being squeezed tighter by his ass than I had ever dared do with my hand when jerking myself off.
I leaned forward slightly, curving my back while keeping my hips in place. "Are you sure you're ready for this?" I whispered. I knew that we had gone far down this road, but I didn't want to lose Jim's friendship. If he had reservations or wanted to stop, I would have done so and jerked myself off after he left the room. I didn't know what he was feeling physically or emotionally. I just had no frame of reference for his experience.
Jim half-grunted and half-moaned in acquiescence and began grinding his ass against me slightly. I straightened back up, gripped his hips more firmly, and began to slowly draw myself out. I could feel the grip of his hole sliding towards my dickhead. Then I pushed forward again with just a bit more speed than I had drawn back, and Jim released another high-pitched whimper. I pulled pack and pushed forward again a little more firmly, and Jim's breaths started coming in short gasps. He lowered his head to lay it between his arms, turning it to one side.
"Fuck me," Jim had said. I was doing just that. Nothing more, and nothing less. My brain and body felt like they could explode at any instant.
I looked down my hairless torso and could see myself disappearing into Jim. The sight was enough to make my load start to churn I my balls. "Oh, Jim," I murmured, "I wish you could see this!" Seeing my cock half-buried inside him was the hottest thing I had ever seen in my young life. He did not answer me, but he began pushing back against me again as I started to thrust with more vigor.
I did not last long at all, since this was my first time with another man. Within a few short minutes, I was overwhelmed, and my cock exploded inside him, flooding Jim with my cum. My sense of time slowed, and it seemed to me that I continued shooting almost for as much time as I had been inside Jim. Spasm after spasm shook me violently. I had never felt anything like this. Light-headed and dizzy from the sensations, I collapsed against Jim's back unable to speak, pulling out as the last of my seed dribbled from the head of my cock.
Once Jim felt my cock leave him, he rolled over onto his back. I clumsily fell to the side, and he roughly grabbed my head and pulled it onto his chest, pinning me there. With his other hand he reached for his own short but swollen cock. He gave five quick pulls, and then he was splashing my face as he released his own need. The smell of his musk filled my nostrils while he held me tight, both of us breathless and only able to make inarticulate guttural sounds when we tried to speak.
I would like to say that this was the beginning of a long or intense relationship, but that would be a lie. While we fooled around and I fucked him a few more times, our personalities did not mesh well enough to form a strong or lasting emotional bond in the end. After a few more weeks, he made it clear in no uncertain terms that he considered our friendship (and everything else) over.
I was disappointed, to say the least. After a few days, I realized that I couldn't force him like me if he had decided that he didn't. He had his life, and I had mine. I still saw him regularly since we roomed next door to each other, but neither of us reached out to interact in anything but a superficial way. While I regret what happened to our budding friendship, I have never regretted what we did together that night in my room.