This is the story of two college friends who become lovers. If you are not 18 years of age or older, or if it is illegal in the place you reside to read such material, or if it offends you that two college guys should fall in love and have sex, then you must leave.
This story is copyrighted, all rights reserved to the author. It is a re-post of a story written by me and originally posted by me.
I have other stories posted at Nifty; you will find links to them under my name on Nifty's Prolific Authors page. Email me about the links there that don't work or about other stories I have at Nifty not on that list.
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MY FRIEND, MY OBSESSION
"It does not work, this spelling check," Zun said as he pointed to his paper. There were several words circled in red and a note about spelling in the border. It sounded as though the instructor were as upset about it as Zun.
I took the paper from him and saw the reason for the mistakes. "No, spell check doesn't always catch everything. You can't rely on it; you have to proof everything," I explained.
Because of the look of confusion on his face, I explained one of the limitations of the computer age.
Zun was actually doing very well - a lot better than I would have done if our positions had been reversed. He was an exchange student from China, an entering freshman at my college and a resident on the floor for which I was Resident Assistant. I think it was because of that sign on my door he had first begun to ask me questions. I was a sophomore English major, and I was only too glad to answer some of his questions.
After a month of this, it had begun to be a pretty regular thing, his knocking on my door with another question about writing, grammar, spelling, vocabulary. I didn't actually mind it. In fact, we had gotten to know each other a bit. He was rather uncertain of himself in an American setting, though excited about the opportunity. He had spent a year after the equilivent of high school at a special school in preparation for American studies. So, he was actually my own age - I had recently turned over a "19" on my odometer. His name was actually spelled "Xun" he had told me, but he spelled it with a "Z" to help people pronounce it correctly. He was the oldest son of an apparently well-to-do family; his father was some kind of businessman. It was his father who encouraged him to study in America.
"Look," I said, as I motioned for him to sit on the bed next to my desk. (As an RA I have a single room, but it's merely half the size of a room for two, so there isn't much in it!) "I can see that it might help you to get a little tutoring in English. Don't misunderstand me; you speak and write unbelievably well - lots better than I would be able to speak and write Chinese. But right now, the beginning of your studies here, would be a better time to work on it than later. Would you be interested?"
He asked about cost, schedule and other things, so I sent him to the office which dealt with such things. I knew he was very serious about his studies, and I admired him for that. He was a very attractive, very intelligent guy, and I knew he would do well.
The next afternoon he came into my room (knocking first, of course, even though the door was open) and reported on his effort. "I said to her I would like you to tutor me," he said, with a small smile.
"Me? But I'm not a tutor. I mean, I'm not in that program. They have students who have signed up for it, part of their work-study arrangement."
"Yes. She told me that. But I said I know you. You are a good student, student of English. She tell me to ask you if you will do it and to see her. Please."
Well, that's how I got my new job. I got myself registered and approved, discovered I would be paid $18 an hour by the university, and was rather pleased about it.
Now for some honesty here. I was happy for a reason to spend more time with Zun.
I've mentioned that he is very attractive. I didn't mention that I'm very gay. I am a very straight-acting guy whom no one at home suspects (except a few high school buddies with whom I'd experienced some sex). And no one here suspects for the simple reason that I have done nothing here at all in the sex department. Unless you count jacking off. That, actually, was a significant bonus to being an RA; I could close the door and get private with my privates whenever I wanted. In the shower room, it was not only "look but don't touch;" it was "look but not much or they'll know."
The previous year, my freshman year, had been agony. I found myself so very attracted to the guys here, not just the ones in the dorm but guys in classes, in the library, in the dining hall. The place was crawling with beautiful, beautiful bodies. And the dorm positively reeked of sex. I knew that virtually all of the 18 guys on my floor jacked off. I never caught my first year roommate (not a very nice guy, by the way), but I'm sure the stalls and showers were used for it regularly. That's the way I used them, anyway. The only time I ever jacked off in my room last year was when my roomie was safely home for the weekend (which was pretty frequently, thank goodness) and I could get naked and play as much as I wanted. That's one of the primary reasons I applied to be an RA -- the single room.
I am not a sex fiend. I've sucked and been sucked, but I've never even done any fucking, for god's sake! I am just a normal recently-turned-19-year-old who feels his hormones. In fact, I've been pretty pleased with the way I've been able to handle myself on campus. No one knows a thing. The only problem with that is that I am getting nothing. It's a religious campus, and everyone tiptoes around the subject of sex. And I don't suppose I'll be getting anything any time soon.
That has not kept me from looking, though. And that is one very important, albeit selfish, reason I was happy to tutor Zun. He is about three inches shorter than my 5'11" and has a better build. I'm slim (not skinny), and he is slim but well-muscled. In fact, I loved it when he wore a sleeveless T in the dorm; his biceps were lovely, and his chest well-defined. I had actually seen him naked a few times, though only from the rear. There is a long bench in the shower room for guys to get undressed, but the shower stalls had curtains. He has a butt to die for. Round and bubble. The way it moves, especially in those very short and tight boxers he wears. They're not really boxers, but they're not briefs, either -- something he brought from home. They are dark blue, and they set off the skin tone of his stomach and thighs beautifully.
His hair is coal black, of course. I've seen no hair on him other than his head and just a hint of his underarms. None to interfere with the lovely lines of his legs. None on his chest. Yes, I've seen him with his shirt off. The tone of his skin is light enough to contrast perfectly with his dark nipples. I think of him often at night. I feel a little guilty, feeling this way about him and getting paid to be with him, as though I'm using him. I guess I am, aren't I?
The schedule we set up was not that demanding. We would do some basic work with grammar to begin with, he would write a few short essays for me on subjects of his own choosing, and we'd talk about them. That's how we got to know each other pretty well. He wrote often about his home and family. He was obviously very homesick. So we talked about his family, his schools, his friends, and all the experiences he had as a new student in a strange land. I began to admire his dedication even more.
And I genuinely loved being around him. After a while, we became very informal with each other, especially as he relaxed to live as a college student in a dorm. He became more casual around the guys on the floor, too, though still more reserved than anyone else. And -- praise the lord! -- he began to dress as most of the other guys did. He was frequently in tank tops and those blue shorts, even in the hall. And sometimes on the way to the john he didn't even bother with the tank top.
I was becoming seriously obsessed. Or was I simply a horny gay looking for eye candy? Whatever it was, there were many nights when I went to bed naked, my hand on my cock and my mind on Zun. But I continued to be very careful. I was not going to do or say anything that might offend, upset, or harm someone whose cultural mindset I couldn't even begin to understand.
The first time I touched him was purely an accident. He was sitting on the edge of my bed, and I had a couple of books open to show him something. When I moved a book, my hand brushed almost the entire length of his thigh, from his knee to the top of his shorts. I was horrified. It was so important to me that I not offend him. I think I was able to continue talking without missing a beat, but I'm not sure. I didn't see any reaction at all from him, but I had no way to know what he was thinking. I tried to keep my mind on track, but it kept returning to the warmth, the smoothness... I started to get hard, so I stood up quickly and ended the session.
That was in the afternoon. I saw him in the hall that evening, and he didn't seem to act differently. How he felt about it was important to me, and I was honest enough to know it was because I really liked this guy. A lot.
Late that night, he appeared at the door and asked if I could check something he was writing. But he asked me to come to his room; his paper was still on his computer. I'd been in his room before, of course. I followed him in, noting that his roommate was gone. He sat at his computer and I stood behind him as he pointed something out on the screen. I had to stoop down to read it better, and I found myself with my face almost next to his, his bare shoulder at my chin. I had never been this close to him before. I couldn't help but look down. His chest was moving with his breath; I could see his nipples pointing through his tank top. His small waist was hidden from me, as was his crotch. His thighs looked so strong from my vantage point above him. I could smell his scent. My breath was probably brushing his shoulder...
He was speaking, and I had completely blanked out for a monent. I jerked to a standing position. "Uh... just what do you mean?" I said, trying to cover the fact that I hadn't heard a word.
"The paragraph. It is too long? But it is all about the same subject. I do not know where to stop it." He looked up at me. I was standing too close. His face was the most beautiful I'd ever seen. I became unreasonably warm; my stomach fluttered.
"I see the problem, I think," I stalled, trying to find the problem. "Yes, well, maybe you could use that sentence" -- I pointed over his shoulder to the screen -- "where you refer to the other book, use it as the first sentence of the next paragraph..." I had no idea what I was saying. I was 19 and babbling like a schoolboy. This had to stop right now.
"Zun, I think if you break the paragraph there, it will be okay. I'm sorry, but I really don't feel so well. That dining hall food, you know... I think I'd better go back. Maybe later, okay?" I turned and left. Nothing like being rude to cover your tracks.
I conducted myself more carefully from that point on. The only time I allowed myself to think of him sexually was at night. Then I decided I should not allow myself to do even that. Well, I tried that, anyway. It just wouldn't work. But I did make an effort to be more careful. We were in and out of each others rooms more frequently, and it was obvious that we had become friends, not just classmates.
One day I found him sitting at his computer but staring at a framed picture on the shelf above. I asked him about the picture, which I had noticed before.
"It is my family," he said. "My grandmother, here is my father, and this is my little brother. Today is his birthday. He is 14. But he is 12 in the picture. I wrote him a letter."
"He's a nice looking kid, Zun," I said. "I know you miss him."
"He is very smart. Good at sports. In my country I would not say this about him, but I think in America it is okay. I love my brother very much."
He looked up at me, and I think his eyes were damp. I smiled. "Yes, Zun. It's a good thing for a guy to love his brother. And in this country it's okay to say it. He's lucky to have a big brother like you." I wanted to put my arm around him, but I had wanted to do that many times before.
"And I would say this, too," Zun said as he stood to face me. "You are a very good friend. You make me very welcome. You help me, too, but you make me feel... welcome."
"Th...thanks," I stammered. "You're a good friend, too, Zun." Had I ever said such a thing to anyone before? Anyone? Ever? But I meant it very much. And I honestly felt compelled to reach over and squeeze his shoulder. Just a little. Just once. It was awkward. But it felt okay, and I think he took it that way, too.
One other RA and I stayed in the dorm over Christmas break. It was to remain open -- though everything else on campus was closed -- because there were so many exchange students who had no other place to go. Zun, in fact, was the only other person on my floor. We spent a lot of time together, and we ate together at least once every day; the dining hall was closed, and I had a car to take us to several different restaurants. Occasionally one or two of the other foreign students would accompany us, and meals were always lively, with lots of conversation.
I intended to remain on campus even for the holiday itself. I did not go home for Christmas last year, either; things were not going well there. But I decided to do something special for Zun on Christmas. I told him we would go to a rather fancy restaurant (one out of our usual price range) for Christmas dinner; it would be my treat.
We dressed -- suits and ties, the whole bit. He was very handsome. I think he was a little self-conscious in the restaurant, but he soon relaxed. He asked me to order for him, so I ordered the traditional turkey-and-dressing-and-all-the-trimmings for both of us. I also ordered wine, and we laughed as the waiter checked our IDs -- we were both "of age" by barely months. We spent a lot of time at the meal, and it was one of the most pleasurable experiences I'd had in a while.
When we got back to the dorm, he thanked me again. I barely had my tie off back in my room when there was a knock at the door. Zun came in, still decked out in his suit and tie, and handed me something with some tissue around it.
"You have been very kind. It was a wonderful dinner today. It was the best time I have spent in America. I... I have a gift for you."
"A gift? Oh, Zun, that's not necessary. I enjoyed it as much as you did. You don't need to..."
"Yes," he said, interrupting me -- and that's something he never does. "In my country it is a custom to give gift when the... host gives special dinner. Please. To take it is an honor for me."
I opened the paper, and I found the beautiful frame in which that family picture had been. The frame was inlaid with what looked to be silver and brass and decorated with some very attractive stones.
"It's beautiful, Zun. But I can't take this; this is for your family picture."
"No, I can put picture in another frame when I get one. I want you to take this. Please."
I was embarrassed, but I was putting him in the position of begging me to take a gift. I thanked him again and told him this would have very special meaning for me. Then I got an idea.
Before he turned to leave, I asked him to wait just a moment. I went over to my desk and shuffled through some papers in the drawer. To be honest, I didn't really have to search for it. It was right at the front where I could see it frequently. It was a picture that had been taken at the picnic welcoming the exchange students to campus back in August. As an RA I was one of those preparing things that day. A girl was taking lots of pictures for the school paper, and a week later she had sent this one to me. I didn't even remember it being taken, but there were lots of students around that day; people were meeting and chatting all over the place. The photo was of Zun and me. We were both smiling into the camera, though at the time we didn't even know each other.
I placed the photo in the frame -- it was slightly too small, but that could be fixed later -- and set it on the shelf above the desk. "There," I said, and I stepped back so Zun could see.
He looked stunned. Of course, he hadn't known about the picture. Then a huge smile appeared.
"It is... us... you and me!" He laughed. "It is good in the frame." His face became more solemn as he added, "I am happy you have such a picture. It is... thank you." And he turned quickly to go back his own room. I am sure there were tears in his eyes. I was not imagining that.
On New Years Eve a party was thrown together at the last minute for all the foreign students. It was a nice thought, but it was a rather tame party. Zun and I left early, and we went to a nearby watering hole frequented by those few students who drank. Religious school, remember? The place was very crowded and noisy, but it was fun. We hoisted a few and maybe one or two too many. At midnight everyone sang "Auld Lang Syne," and Zun, who didn't have the faintest clue about the words, gave it a good try. We laughed and then exchanged a New Year's hug.
As we walked back to the dorm Zun was having a little trouble with his feet, so I put my arm around him to support him. It was as natural a thing as that hug. But when we got back to his room he was simply too out of it -- almost on the verge of falling asleep -- to do much but fall onto his bed. He was asleep immediately. I pulled his shoes off his feet and straightened his legs on the bed. And stood looking at him a moment. He looked like an angel. Maybe it was the booze, but I was suddenly hit with such an emotional attraction for this boy.
I turned, closed the door, and went back to my room. I am trying to be very honest about this, so I will add that I teared up some before I went to sleep. Maybe the booze and the physical contact... Seeing him lie there so peacefully... Well.
The dorm returned to its normal chaos when classes resumed in January. I continued to "tutor" Zun twice a week, but in reality I was simply proofing papers that didn't really need it. He was really doing well. And actually, we spent more time -- not just in those sessions, but at other times -- talking about content, what he was writing. A history paper produced a couple of long discussions about American history; he was especially fascinated with the Civil War. There were ethics questions raised by some of his reading in English lit.
I had stayed away from politics in our conversations, not certain what Zun would want to hear or say in such a discussion. I knew things were very different for him at home, politically. But we worked our way around to that, too. Many of our conversations took on a personal tone, and this one turned in that direction, too. It seemed that his father was not a businessman at all. Zun was not supposed to talk about it, but he wanted me to know that his father had some kind of position in a government department having to do with newspapers -- he explained it, but I didn't quite get it all. In fact, Zun was not quite certain himself exactly what his father did.
Zun was afraid he was being "groomed" by his father to go into some kind of government work, and he simply did not want that. He said he loved his country, but there were many things he did not like about its government. He had been raised not to question such things, he said, but he questioned many things. But he never spoke aloud about his reservations with anyone, he said, until now. Until he had a good friend in whom he could confide. We talked. That is, he did the talking. I could offer little in the way of advice, but I asked questions now and then, and he seemed to think that helped.
This conversation took us far into a weekend night. We were both sleepy, but I did not want the conversation to end until he himself wanted it to end. I don't think anything was resolved in his mind, but he finally stood and thanked me for talking with him. For a moment I thought he was going to say more, but he left for his room. I realized that night I had made a very good friend, one about whose life and future I cared a great deal.
That did not deter my fantasies about him, I'm sorry to say. That seemed very inappropriate, to say the least, very immature, too. But I could not stop the feeling I was developing for Zun. And that feeling included a deep sexual attraction. I reminded myself I had had schoolboy crushes before (and that's another story). But there were so many nights -- so many nights! -- when I jerked off in bed to the images of Zun in my head, shooting all over myself the cum I then had to eat alone.
With the dorm in full swing, the bodies paraded around the halls all the time. It seemed the colder it got outside the less guys wanted to wear in the dorm! Maybe there was some kind of sexual energy in these guys that needed some kind of expression. Whatever the reason for it, I enjoyed it. Lots of near-nakedness around the lavatories in the morning, shaving and washing up. Guys in boxers or briefs bent over with their asses stuck out as they brushed their teeth. Towels wrapped around waists, and here and there a hint of tenting. The comaradie of the shower room itself was delicious. Naked guys toweling off, chatting, joking. I would have sworn that there were a few guys who were showing off their cocks on a few occasions, but then I'm gay and horny, so what do I know?
I didn't mind being naked in there myself. I had long since gotten control of my urge to spring boners -- well, part of the time anyway. Horny straights -- horny religious straights at that -- get their hormones rushing around, too, and follow some natural urges to show off the body. If only half of the guys jacked off in the shower each morning, and each guy produced about a teaspoon of cum... I was never very good at math.
When Zun was there -- which for some reason didn't happen all that much -- he chatted some, but he was always more modest that anyone else. He always turned away when he took off those blue shorts and stepped into the shower stall with his back to everyone. When I thought about it, I realized that he always used the shower stall on the end. When he turned away from everyone, he was turning toward a wall. He'd step out facing that wall, grab a towel and dry himself turning only slightly if he were talking to someone. That would provide a great view of his ass -- so I never complained -- but that was all. Whether it was his personality or his culture, he was very modest.
Spring sprang early. I remained in the dorm, as I had at Christmas, during spring break, so Zun and I were able to spend some more time together. When everybody returned, the weather warmed up suddenly. Shorts and tank tops appeared again on campus. And I had a beautiful view right outside my window. The dorm was U-shaped, and my room faced into the U. That big lawn was a great place to catch some rays, and lots of the guys in the dorm did just that. Spread out in front and two floors below me was a delicious sight. For a religious school, some of the guys wore next to nothing in the sun. Watching them move around and rub lotion all over themselves always turned me on. Some of them even rubbed lotion on each other. And some of those guys surely had to be enjoying themselves in more ways than one. A good way to express some of those mysterious, repressed feelings, boys?
And in spring a young man's fancy turns to... I forget what the poet said, but he was talking about sex. My fancy always turned in the spring. I don't know what it is, but sunshine and warm weather get my blood up. So I was a little more careful about going into that shower room.
I never went into the showers without wondering who and what might be seen there, but one spring evening I was alone. I stood in the warm water for a while, then soaped myself all over with body wash and created enough bubbles and lather to move it around. I smoothed it over my chest, around my neck, down my arms. I let some of the suds run down from the back of my shoulders to my lower back, over my ass, and down between my cheeks, bending forward a bit to encourage the water into the crevass and onto that very soft, tight spot. Ah, spring!
I let my hands follow the lather down and around my ass, then moved them around to my belly. After massaging my abs for a moment, I moved my hands down along the outside of my thighs, around to the inside, then up until they were on either side of my ballsac.
I turned my hands inward to cup them under my balls, catching the warm water there, feeling my balls surrounded with the warmth. Then I applied more body wash to my belly and worked it into my pubes, creating a mountain of warm lather and bubbles that slowly moved downward, around my hard cock, onto my balls.
And with every touch of my hand I was thinking of him, Zun, the lovely Zun, wishing and wondering what my hands would feel on his body, what his hands would feel like as they did the same to me.
No. I was behaving like a schoolboy lusting for his dreamboy. I was behaving like that because... that was what I was. That thought was depressing enough that I just stood under the water, letting it wash the suds and my dreams away. I turned the water off with a sigh and stepped out of the shower.
And there he stood. I had seen Zun in the shower room many times before, but only when he was moving quickly into or out of a shower. He was just getting out of a shower two stalls down from mine, stepping across to the bench for his towel. For some reason, this time he had stepped out of the shower facing into the room, rather than toward that wall.
When he saw me, he froze in place and turned fully toward me. I was seeing him naked from the front for the first time.
The water was still dripping from his hair, along his neck and onto his shoulders. His wet chest glistened, his pecs reflecting the harsh light, and his nipples were tight and hard. His taut abs moved with his breath. My eyes went downward. Framed by those strong thighs was the delight I had only dreamed of. His ballsac was small, very dark, and drawn up tight from the water and cool air. Above was a small mound of dense, dark pubic hair. And from that mound hung a dark, thick cock. I had assumed he would be uncut, but he was cut, like me. His shaft was a bit shorter than mine, but his cockhead was bigger. It was dark, the crown around the head even a bit darker. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.
My eyes pulled away to take in his full body. I looked slowly up to his face, his eyes, fully aware that each of us had been frozen in place for a very long few moments. He was so very beautiful.
"You are so beautiful."
For a moment I thought I had spoken my thoughts aloud. But the whisper had been his voice. For the first time I realized he had been looking at me as long as I had been looking at him. And my cock was still raging from my experience in the shower.
He looked down quickly, grabbed his towel, and left the shower room.
What has happened? What have I done? I had been thinking of him, he was there, he was so very beautiful... It was I who had spoken aloud, surely, saying words I could not take back, creating a new situation that could destroy any friendship. I wrapped my towel around my waist and returned slowly to my room.
I half-heartedly toweled off and pulled on a T and sweatpants. I felt as though I were moving through water, through molasses. Zun, let me take back that shower, those thoughts, let me return to what we had...
I don't know how long I had been standing at my window when there was a knock on the door. I muttered something and turned; the door opened, and Zun stepped in, closing it behind him. He was dressed again, at least in a T and those blue shorts. He stood there silently, in the middle of the room, his eyes on the floor, and when he spoke it was so quietly I had to step closer to hear him.
"Please. I am sorry. What I said... in my country it is very wrong to say such a thing... it is a bad thing. I meant no insult..."
I didn't respond; I didn't know how to respond. An insult?
"Very bad. You are my very good friend. I am not bad person. Cannot help what I feel... You are my very good friend... I cannot help what I feel..."
He raised his eyes to mine in a silent plea for help in finding the words, finding a way to say what he could not say. Is it what I wanted him to say, or am I rushing to a conclusion that is more hope than reality? I stepped closer and took both his hands in mine, raising them between us.
"Zun," I said directly into his deep, dark eyes, "Zun, you are the very best friend I have ever had. I would not allow anything destroy that friendship. You know you can tell me anything, and you will still be my friend. Zun, you said 'feelings.' " I stopped, uncertain if I should continue.
After too long a silence, I said, "Zun, are you trying to say... to tell me that you are gay? Homosexual?"
He nodded without lowering his eyes from mine. I moved my hands up along his arms to his shoulders.
"Zun, you know that I'm gay, too. You already know that. Don't you?"
As he nodded his "yes" I moved my arms to his back and drew him closer to me, against my chest. I could feel his arms around me, his body pressing to mine. He was trembling. I stroked his back, up and down, and his trembling slowed, then stopped.
"I love you," he whispered in a soft voice, deep with emotion. His arms tightened around me. "Please... please hold me."
I circled his small waist with my arm and pulled us even closer. There could not have been a centimeter of air between our chests, groins, thighs. I ran my lips through the soft hair on his head.
"Zun, I have loved you since the day we met."
He turned his head and our eyes locked; then our lips touched, just very lightly. I brushed my lips across his, then across his soft, smooth cheek. I could feel his heart beat against my chest; I could feel his pulse as the bulge in his blue shorts grew and pressed against me. My lips found his again and, this time, pressed lightly. It is so warm here, so soft. I opened my lips to trace my tongue lightly along his lips, and they opened slightly. I felt our tongues meet, moving slowly against each other, around each other -- moving slowly but more deeply into our warm mouths. My heart was pounding.
I pulled away slightly, just enough to look into his eyes again. I kissed them. As I moved from one to the other, he closed his eyes, and I touched his warm eyelids, my lips brushing his dark brows. So very beautiful. I wanted him so much. I wanted to give myself to him so much.
"Zun..." I stepped back, removed my arms from him, and took the bottom of his T, and slowly began to pull it upward, slowly enough that he could stop me if he wanted. He didn't. He raised his arms high to allow me to pull it over his head. And suddenly his flesh was there, his lovely chest, his tight nipples, strong shoulders. Before I could touch him, he pulled my T upward, and he disappeared from view for a moment; I had to help him get it over my arms and head. And we stood exposed.
We ran our hands over each other -- shoulders, pecs, nipples. And I sucked in my breath at the softness of his touch. Nipples, abs, pecs, shoulders. Pecs, nipples, abs. Soft but hard and strong. Smooth, but I could feel the movement of his muscles beneath the smoothness. Hands sliding around over his smooth warm back. Faces closer, lips touching, tongues meeting. For a very long time we stood against each other, tasting and breathing each others taste into our lungs.
I withdrew my tongue to lick lightly across his cheek, down his neck. I spread light kisses across his shoulder, and he threw his head back in pleasure as I moved my kisses down and across his chest. I licked lightly at one nipple, then the other, then returned to the first to suck at it slowly. He gasped and pressed his chest into my mouth. I left his nipples and kissed that sweet skin downward, down his abs, across his bellybutton. I stopped at the waistband of his shorts.
"Oh, please don't stop," he hissed between clenched teeth; "No, don't stop."
I kissed that hard mound at the center of those blue shorts. I ran my hands around to the back, massaging his ass.
"Wait," I whispered. I went to the door and turned the lock. As I turned back to him, he was still facing the same way, away from me. I walked up behind him and circled his chest with my arms. He lay his head back on my shoulder and sighed as my fingers explored his chest, his abs. I slid my fingers under the waistband of those blue shorts.
"Yes... yes... yes," he whispered. "Oh, please... yes."
I slowly opened the waistband and slid the shorts down his smooth legs. The bulge in my sweats now pressed against his warm ass. I stepped around in front of him, and he put his hands on my shoulders as I pulled the shorts off from around his ankles. Then I allowed myself to look at the treasure I had uncovered. It was more beautiful than I remembered from the shower room.
His cock was also bigger, and very hard. He was no more than five inches, perhaps a little more, but on his small frame it was perfect. And so thick! His cockhead was fully engorged, a raging red, oozing his precious precum. I could not let a drop of it escape. I took a finger and gently wiped it from the lips of his cock -- he tightened his hands on my shoulders and gasped -- and brought it to my mouth. He was as delicious as I had known he would be. I ran my hands up and down the inside of his smooth thighs and kissed him on each one. I placed my hands under his big, dark, smooth ballsac and lifted it. I inhaled his scent; it was heavenly. I licked gently at the side of his ballsac, then sucked very lightly without taking the balls into my mouth. His moans were driving me on to what I wanted. And needed.
"Zun, you are so beautiful." And having said it yet again, I licked the side of his hard cock, from the head to the base, then back up the other side, all without touching him with my fingers. I licked once more at his cocklips, tasting his smooth essence, then opened my mouth to pleasure him.
I sucked lightly at the top of his cockhead, then opened my lips a bit more to take in just the front half of it. My tongue teased his cocklips and I continued sucking. Very slowly, I sucked more and more of his heavy cockhead into my mouth until my lips fastened around the crown. I stopped sucking and began to pull gently with my lips.
His moans sang his delight, and I began to hum into his cockhead. He shook with the new sensation. I pressed my mouth in toward him and placed my hands on his soft, warm ass to hold him still. I sucked more and more of his shaft into my mouth until my nose was buried in his small bush of thick hair. I stopped sucking, letting his cockhead press into the back of my mouth at my throat, but moving my tongue under his cock, caressing the underside of it. I inhaled the scent of his soft hair. My own cock was throbbing, and I could feel the wet spot on my sweatpants.
"Oooooo... Ooooo... Ooooooo," his soft voice sang of his pleasure. He moved one hand from my shoulder and began to run it through my hair. My sweet Zun.
I slowly pulled away from him, and he moaned his disappointment when his cock left my mouth. I took him by the hips and guided him onto the bed. I stood above him, looking at the beautiful love of my life, and let my sweatpants drop. My cock sprang up to slap my belly, and Zun sucked in his breath when he saw my length and thickness. Stepping out of my sweatpants, I lowered myself onto the bed, onto his warm, hard body. Our cocks were caught between us, and we began to slowly move in rhythm. Lowering my face to his, I breathed in his sweet breath, then kissed his lips. He opened them for me, and our tongues met again to tenderly lick and caress, to gently suck each other's breath.
I moved my kisses from his warm mouth to his cheek, then his neck, his shoulder. At the center of his chest I paused to lick and suck gently, then moved to his right nipple. The dark circle was ready for me, tight and hard. As I licked and moved that tender nub of flesh with the tip of my tongue, Zun groaned and pressed his chest to my mouth. I sucked his nipple, teased it with my teeth, pulling it with my teeth so carefully, sucked gently, then harder. I left to cross his chest, giving his left nipple the same pleasures.
Licking my way down his belly, I paused at his bellybutton, washing it with my tongue, aware of the delight almost within the reach of my tongue. I licked, tasted, reveled in the soft hair at that mound, as his cock slapped against my throat and cheeks, throbbing for attention. Ignoring it for the moment, I trailed soft kisses alongside his hair down to his ballsac, licking and sucking at the special spot between the sac and thigh. He was grunting with need, and to wait any longer was more than I could bear myself. The scent of his sex went to my head and filled me with need for him.
I engulfed his cock and took half of it into my mouth, then sucked deeply as the remainder of his shaft plunged to my throat. I began to pump more quickly. I knew he could not last too long now. I sucked hard as I pulled up toward his cockhead, plunged downward to bury my nose in his pubes, and repeated this dance of love until his groans became strangled gasps. I felt him tense, his cock enlarging more in my mouth, his cockhead growing to the point of bursting.
He suddenly froze, shoved his precious cock into my mouth and shot his hot cream into my throat. I pulled back, to keep only his cockhead inside, as he continued to shoot. He filled my mouth with his cum; it was hot and sweet and bitter and spicy. I had never tasted anything like it. I swallowed only to receive another huge load, swallowed in time for another. His moans were intermingled with gutteral grunts. I had to work to keep up with the power and rapidity of his cumming. I don't know how many mouthfuls he gave me before his throbbing cock began to lose its energy and produce only a few more drops.
I continued to suck him, but far more gently, sucking and licking the remainder of his cum from his cocklips, cleaning his cockhead with my tongue. I let his hot, still semi-hard cock slide from my mouth as he moaned. I lay quietly beside him to give him the time to enjoy the wonderful afterglow of such a huge cum.
I was lying half on him and half off, my arm across his chest and my head at his shoulder. In a few moments his breathing became more regular, and he began to stroke my hair. He was murmuring something; it sounded like a song. He was chanting something in his language. I lay still, enjoying the warmth and sound.
"It is a song from my country," Zun said quietly. "It is a song for lovers. The lonely boy sees the first dove of the morning, who brings him love and happiness."
His voice was quieter. "You are my dove, my happiness," he said. "I love you."
I raised up on my elbows and looked into his eyes. But I could not speak for a moment. There were tears running down my cheeks, and there was no point in trying to stop them now. When I collected myself, I had to whisper, because that was all that was in me.
"Then, Zun, it is a song about you and me, that song for lovers." I kissed his cheek.
My bed was just a single, but we needed no more room than we had. We couldn't get close enough. As my cheek returned to his chest, we were touching from there to our feet, as though we weren't two people anymore, just one. He stroked my hair.
"I... I don't know what to do..., " he began.
"I am here," I answered, "and I love you. "I am here with you, and anything you want is the right thing to do."
He moved away a bit, and I rolled fully on my back. He raised himself up and turned slightly; he just sat there and looked at me, and I could almost feel his eyes moving around my face, across my chest, touching every part of my cock and ballsac, moving up and down my legs, returning to my cock. He tentatively placed his hand at the middle of my chest.
"I have wanted to touch you... I thought about it so much. Just to touch...," and his words faded.
"I am here, beautiful Zun. Touch me as you wish. Caress me, stroke me, taste me -- this is the time."
He leaned in to briefly touch my lips with his, then raised up again as his fingers began to move. It was as though he were drawning me on a sketch pad. He traced my neck and shoulders, my chest. Ran his fingers lightly around and over my hard nipples. I closed my eyes and surrendered my mind to the sensations. His fingers ran down my chest to my abs, tracing the lines there, then back up to repeat the entire motion. He ran his fingers around my bellybutton, dipping a finger into it. Up to my shoulders, down again. I felt as though I were a fragile piece of art being carefully examined by an appreciative artist, a painting appearing slowly as the artist's brush applied stroke after of stroke in just the right place.
My skin was so alive that when he brushed slowly through my pubic hair and touched my cock I jumped as though I had been shocked. My eyes flew open, and I looked down to see his fingers run slowly up and down my cock as it lay back against my belly. The soft underbelly of it was pulsing so much I thought I could actually see it. When I looked up to Zun, I saw that he was looking at my face, not at the location of his hands. He smiled.
He reached for the inner thigh of my leg and pulled it, opening my legs for his fingers, and moved his hand up and down. I sighed deeply. Then he turned a little on the bed so he could lean into my crotch. He touched nothing. I couldn't see his eyes, but I could feel them. Up and down my cock, down and around my balls. That center of me was radiating so much heat he had to feel it. Still, he touched nothing, except for his hand on my thigh.
"It is so... beautiful, your... cock," he said, and I realized it was the first time he had spoken the word to me, perhaps the first time he had ever spoken it aloud. "I love it. It is part of you. It is just right." And he leaned down and kissed my cock where it meets my ballsac. I gasped as his lips touched me. Then he licked me there. My god! It was electrifying! My cock was probing the air, still on my belly, begging.
He licked my ballsac once, then raised up to look at me, as though he were making sure what he was doing was all right. "Oh, Zun -- that is magical!" He smiled and returned to lick my ballsac from side to side. I could feel my balls moving, exhilarating in the attention of his warm tongue. Then he licked my balls up and down, lifting my sac a bit as he started his tongue just underneath it and licking as far as the base of my cock. My poor cock! I could see it oozing precum, needing attention!
My belly, my gut was twisting inside from the exquisite agony he was creating. My god! This boy who had never before touched a man -- he must have dreamed dream after dream of what he would do if he ever got the chance. Had he teased his own balls so much? Did he know, or was he reacting to my slow writhing and moaning beneath his mouth?
He raised his lips to the base of my cock above the ballsac and raised his hand to cup my balls at the same time. He sucked there once, twice.
"Zun! Wait!" I must have sounded as though I were calling a halt to the whole thing, because he raised up with a look of disappointment on his face.
"No, lovely Zun, I don't mean stop. Never that. It's just that you're about to bring me to a climax -- make me cum. I wanted you to know that, that's all. Oh, Zun you have no idea how you are exciting me!"
"If you are about to do it then I must suck," he said, matter of-factly. He raised himself slightly, took my throbbing cock in his hand, and held it up. He looked at my swollen cockhead -- had it ever been so swollen? -- for a moment, then he lowered his head and licked my precum. Without hesitation, he took my cockhead into his mouth. It was not that it seemed to have been forever since I had been sucked, though, in fact, it had not happened since I left my hometown after high school -- almost two years ago! It was not that I had gone days without jacking off, building up and loading my balls. It was one thing and one thing only. The boy I loved was doing one of the most intimate things a lover can do. I entrust my cock to him, and he makes love to me by receiving it eagerly.
He sucked slowly at first, and that was the only way I was able to contain my climax. Then he moved more of my cock into his mouth, sucking as he moved downward. It was very slow. But I felt the urgency building in me, the heat that must erupt. I was moving almost violently beneath him, thrusting myself into him, desperately needing to give him the essence of me.
And when my cockhead pressed against the soft palate of the back of his mouth -- I realized later I should have been surprised he could have taken so much of me into himself -- I exploded. With a strangled cry rising from my throat, my cum surged up my cockshaft and through my cockhead. My cocklips were forced open violently, and a gusher of my cream was shot out into my lover's mouth. Somehow I felt the back of his mouth moving as he swallowed, but before I could react to the sensation I erupted again.
He choked a bit as he stuggled to swallow but continue to suck at the same time. Almost immediately after that surge, a third followed it, filling his mouth. Then there was another -- I was pouring myself into him! And another! The next was not as forceful, but it felt as though there were as much volumn, then, after just a brief second, another. After another pause, another. Then I was dribbling into his mouth; I could feel the odd sensation as cum more slowly seeped rather than shot.
Finally, it subsided. I was panting, almost gasping. Never, never had I experiened a climax so overpowering! I groaned as Zun continued to lick my cock, still in his mouth. As it slowly softened, it slipped out of his mouth, but he continued to lick. I couldn't speak. It was all I could do to breath.
He lay his head on my abs, facing my pubes and cock, his hand now gently cupping my balls again. He watched as my cock slowly returned to its flacid size, then kissed my pubes. He raised up and moved his face to mine, and we kissed deeply. I tasted myself in his warm mouth. I was almost too weak to move my tongue; he gently probed and pulled the remainder of my cum from his mouth and transfered it to me. We breathed in each others breath.
When he lay back down, his face on my chest, I thought I felt some of my cum on his lips or cheek, but then I realized he was quietly weeping. He began to sing again, the love song he had sung earlier.
That most beautiful of any experience I had known began a life-changing relationship.
We very carefully hid our newly-expressed love from anyone and everyone. Two weeks later, after semester exams were over, we moved into an apartment three blocks from campus. We lived as students, friends, lovers. We knew that in two more years I would graduate, and then a year later he would graduate. But we didn't need to speak of that for a while.
All we needed was each other.
He was the love of my life. And I was his dove, his happiness.