2010
The first year students, as they are called, rather than the potentially antiquated "freshmen", move in a week early at Concord College, a rural college of just 2,500 undergraduates with a large endowment, known for its strength in the humanities. 300 miles from the nearest major city makes for an insular campus culture filled with mostly artistic kids from well-to-do families who excel at niche sports and dare to dream big. Coming from a humble background, Wyatt has always been an exception; the College operates under a needs-blind admissions process and admits a small percentage of students who need a large scholarship to cover the otherwise unattainable expense.
Wyatt's parents immigrated from China and opened a restaurant in a rich suburb of Boston where they live in the cramped 2 bedroom above the restaurant. He would work the register some nights, flashing his straight white American teeth at customers, upselling them on an extra spring roll at the behest of his mother, smiling extra hard at the regulars like Mr. Allen who would order with a wink and always left a generous tip. When the restaurant work was done, his real work began. Seated at the cash register, Wyatt finished translating Catullus for his AP Latin class. He puzzled through weekly problem sets for chemistry, all the while daydreaming about his escape plan and the nerdy boys he quietly crushed on from class, who don't yet know their own beauty. He dreamt of the small liberal arts college he would surely attend someday where he would leave life at the restaurant behind.
Wyatt shared a room with his younger brother and resented never having alone time. He spent some of the tips he earned getting his clothes laundered at the local wash-and-dry to get the smell of cooking out of his clothes. Though the occasional bully would draw attention to a rogue limp wrist, Wyatt avoided the worst of the bullying against gay boys you'd hear about on the news. He was affable if a bit nerdy, determined, and hungry for more. Life was never extravagant but it was always enough. Concord, with its state-of-the-art music building, small seminar courses on esoteric topics in art history, and an 80% study abroad rate, felt extravagant.
The campus buzzes with anticipation as students and their families move boxes of clothes, school supplies, and mini fridges from neatly packed car trunks into tiny dorm rooms. It was a hot and muggy late August day in the Northeast. Standing at a lanky 5'10, Wyatt checks his appearance in the bathroom that he would share with 5 other boys in his suite--his roommate John, and 4 more guys in the conjoining single and double rooms. He sweeps his shiny black bangs out of his thoughtful almond-shaped eyes, resenting the newfound popularity of Justin Bieber who incidentally has the exact same haircut has him. He's sweating profusely trying to move his belongings from the car to his new room as quickly as possible, trying to shoo his parents away even though they just completed the 4-hour drive. John, his roommate, is from California and would be moving himself in since he has to fly to school.
Wyatt could only glean so much from John's minimally filled-out Facebook profile. John, coincidentally, also sported a Justin Bieber haircut, though his brownish hair color resembled "the Beebs's" much closer due to their similar ethnic background. John's profile shows that he's a fan of classic rock bands, runs on the cross country team, and plays the guitar. The college sent out an email to both of them to inform them of their room assignment and John sent Wyatt a friend request within the same hour. "Yo man!" he wrote as his initial salutation, "I'm psyched to meet you! Do you mind bringing the mini fridge? My parents say it'll be better for you to bring that since I assume you guys are driving to campus?" Wyatt happily obliged, omitting that he would be paying for the mini fridge himself out of his tips money, and the two messaged a few more times back and forth about logistics around class sign-ups and the like.
In the 4 weeks since John sent him a friend request, Wyatt's daydreaming at the register centered around his impending life at college. He thought about how he would decorate his side of the dorm, researching posters of rock bands he found on John's profile. He obsessively created potential schedules for the fall semester, imagining different paths depending on the major. But most of all, he thought about what John would be like. He read and reread each message, hanging on to every word, imagining how John's voice sounded but above all, wondering whether John could possibly be gay, too.
Wyatt had a final meal in the dining hall with his parents, who bemoaned the lack of good Chinese food, and nagged that he would gain weight if he only ate American food, and he finally sent them on their way. On his walk back to the dorm, he gets flagged down by a pretty blonde girl who introduces herself as Annie. Annie noticed the Massachusetts license plate on his parents' car as they drove away and told him that she's also from there. She was straight forward and extroverted, insisting that he and his roommate go out with her to a party that night, her blue eyes shimmering with excitement as she described how she was invited to her very first college party at a house off-campus. "The athletes move in a week early too, so there are going to be upperclassmen there!" They decide to meet outside Annie's dorm at 8, and Wyatt was ecstatic that he already had a plan to share with John.
Their door opened with a bang a little before 6:30 that night. John saunters in, whistling a song that Wyatt would soon learn is by The Pixies. He has two large rolling suitcases, both covered in stickers and sharpie doodles. He has large over-ear headphones around his neck, and is wearing cutoff jean shorts with a vintage black band tee. He parks his bags right at the entrance and removes his Jansport backpack, discarding it onto the floor in one swift motion. Wyatt gets up from his bed to greet John, who pulls him in for a strong hug. "Yo man!" John exclaims, "what's happening?!" Wyatt laughs a bit nervously and wraps his arms around John's torso. He breathes in deep, taking in John's scent which is a mixture of Old Spice Fiji deodorant and his sweat from dragging his suitcases up to the 3rd floor and an extra big smile creeps across his face. John stands to match Wyatt at 5'10. With a thin but athletic build from years of cross country and a nearly identical hairstyle, John and Wyatt would grow close, and soon be mistaken for each other from behind. Wyatt would soon start taking on some of John's habits; the way John would elongate certain words to emphasize them in his speech, "duuuude" he would say, to express the full range of late-teenage emotions.
"Dude!!!" John exclaims between bites of pizza when Wyatt tells him about the party Annie invited him to. He takes Wyatt aback, asking him whether there was any chemistry between him and Annie. He takes this opportunity as a way to awkwardly come out. The words "actually I'm gay" emerge from his mouth the first of many times that semester. "Well, we'll have to find you a lucky fella at the party tonight!" Wyatt felt relieved if a bit disappointed that his fantasy of his roommate being gay was dispelled not an hour into college. They finished their slices, and wiping his mouth with a napkin, John declares "It's almost time, we gotta get ready!" The boys made their way back to their dorm room, which was still a total mess of boxes and suitcases, and started digging for clothes to wear. John takes off his t-shirt, revealing smooth pink-tinted skin, with a bit of light brown chest hair right in the middle and pulls out a plaid button up shirt to go with his denim cutoffs. He keeps his Vans on as he goes over to the bathroom mirror and checks himself out and fixes his hair. Wyatt keeps his outfit on--a vertical striped green and white button up worn untucked over salmon shorts, an outfit straight off Martha's Vineyard.
Annie stands alone in front of her dorm. She looks back and forth, waiting expectantly for Wyatt to show up. She's wearing makeup now, and a short black mini-dress. There's a noticeable change in John's stature as the pair approaches Annie. He's standing up straighter, and he clears his throat a couple times before saying hi to her, skipping his signature "yo man!". Annie runs over, brimming with enthusiasm, as soon as she notices the pair, the life returning to her face. She embraces Wyatt with a hug and turns her attention to greet John. Annie and John become shy around each other, stealing glances as the three walk together, Wyatt in the middle. Soon enough, the three arrive at the street the house is on, guided by the sounds of bumping bass coming from the basement. They fight their way over to the kitchen where Annie fills up 3 red solo cups from the enormous crystal punch bowl on the counter. The liquid smells sweet with a tinge of acidity and a burning sensation from the vodka. The trio makes its way across the sticky kitchen floor down to the basement, a dance floor partially illuminated by a single blue lightbulb hanging from a wire, while the sound of MGMT's "Electric Feel" permeates the basement air, damp and hot from gyrating bodies and horny college party energy.
Wyatt sways a bit unsure, his senses dampened by the alcohol and his attention partially arrested by John and Annie, who have started to dance a bit closer to one another. The trio is joined by a group from Annie's art history seminar--New York City kids with who seem mature and just plain cool next to the sheltered suburbanites. They're wearing all black and keep going outside for cigarette breaks. Wyatt glances over at John, whose hands have migrated over to hold Annie's slender waist in a firm grip. Wyatt slips into a familiar trance, daydreaming on the dance floor. In this dissociative scenario, Annie vanishes. Her pretentious New York friends vanish. They were never even there. It's just him and John dancing as a pair among sweaty strangers. It's his body that John is grabbing. It's Wyatt who feels John's strong grip around his torso, slowly pulling him in closer as the music swells, John's pink lips slightly parted, his hazel eyes soften and blink, time stopping as the two enjoy their first kiss at long last...
"Yo man!" John shouts over the music. "You wanna go smoke some weed? I brought some from California!" Annie and her friends were climbing the stairs to fill their cups with more punch from the kitchen. Wyatt and John step out of the basement into the quiet of the backyard. John pulls out a slightly crumpled joint from his pocket and bums a light from another partygoer. John offers the first drag to Wyatt, who only has a bit of experience smoking weed. He drags the joint for a second too long and bursts into a coughing fit, doubling over, hands over thighs with tears forming in his eyes. John laughs a bit and pats his friend on the back heartily. Wyatt laughs too as he takes another drag from the joint, enjoying the lightheaded feeling he's getting while standing close to his roommate. John suggests they lay down on the grassy hill for a moment to catch their breath. They collapse on the ground, side by side and sweaty and breathless from the dance floor. Wyatt might have been imagining it, but he could have sworn John moved his arm so that it touching his own ever so slightly. The soft peach fuzz on Wyatt's arm stood at attention, electrified by the narrowing strait between their bodies.
"So you were getting pretty uh, close, to Annie down there."
" Yeaaah...I can't believe my luck! She's a total babe."
"Total babe. I think she likes you, too. She got all quiet and shy when we first got together, like she was trying to impress you!"
"Well color me impressed! Dude, it's all because you got us this sweet invite. Now we gotta find you a guy!"
Wyatt brushes off John's sweet gesture with a chuckle. He is delightfully stoned, "gently toasted," as John would call it. While still laying down, they pass the joint back and forth, finish it, and head back into the basement, where Annie and her friends are dancing in a circle, mouthing the lyrics to each other. At the end of the night, the group walks back to campus. Wyatt talks to some of the girls from New York while John and Annie trail slightly behind, holding hands and whispering to each other. Wyatt and John drop Annie off at her building and John and Annie share a polite goodbye kiss and exchange numbers. Annie beams and gives Wyatt a big hug before venturing inside. The distinct sound of crickets and feet grazing the concrete path are the nighttime sounds of Concord College. The boys walk towards their building, processing the night's events until John breaks the silence:
"College is so awesome."
Back in their room, the boys discover that it hasn't cooled down much from earlier in the day. The historic Victorian buildings at Concord do not come air conditioned, and there's not much of a breeze that night. Desperate for respite from the oppressive heat, the boys strip down to their underwear, carelessly stripping off their clothes making little piles strewn about across the already messy room. The boys' beds stood on either side of the long, narrow room. The beds were oriented the same way, the headboard facing the window in the back of the room with a short passage between the two beds. Wyatt wears white Hanes boxer briefs that are a couple of sizes too big--a size medium on an extra small body. From certain angles, you could see right up the leg opening and see a small hairless scrotum with not much more hair at the base of his small soft cut penis. John's underwear was loose but in a more intentional way as they were boxers. Underneath his boxers was a cut penis with a pinkish hue, thicker than Wyatt's and a bit longer. He had more public hair, including soft peach fuzz that covered his balls. The two boys each collapsed onto his own bed, drunk, stoned, and very warm. Wyatt gets up to turn off the lights and steals a glance at his roommate, whose forearm is perched rather dramatically on his forehead covering his eyes. John's feet are flat on the bed, and the opening of his flows boxers betray him, putting his dick and balls on full display, just a couple feet from Wyatt's vantage point.
Wyatt's pointer finger lingers on the light switch for a second, a little longer than necessary but not enough to cause John to wonder what the hold up is--not that it would matter either way, since John has had a bit to drink. He stares directly at John, seeing up his boxer shorts and takes the scene in: perfection, illuminated by the fluorescent overhead light, a pink shade a bit darker than John's chest, his round balls sticking to his inside thigh, his dick standing at half mast from the night's events. Wyatt flicks off the lights and heads back to his bed in the dark. The boys say goodnight and both boys stay on top of their covers. It goes completely quiet, save for each other's breathing. John has never shared a room with anyone in his life, and comfortable in his altered state, forgets that Wyatt is even there. His mind wanders inevitably to the party, where he was dancing close with Annie. Replaying the scene, he imagines his hands running up and down Annie's body, touching her ass, threatening to put his hands up her mini dress. This causes him to stir, and his dick to get hard.
Wyatt hasn't been able to put the image of John's pinkish semi out of his mind. It was completely different than his own, with Irish white skin. Eyes glazing over pointed at the ceiling, he imagines John's cock hardening into a full on erection, gently expanding, bobbing up pink each time he pulsates. Aching with desire, Wyatt willed hard at his sleeping companion, hoping he feel the same urgency. His own cock swells to full mast in his ill-fitting tighty-whities. His own cut 6" Asian boy cock filling up his underwear nicely. Wyatt was naturally smoother than John, and his pubic region was no exception with perfectly smooth balls beneath a slender and smooth, cut rod. Wyatt hears something; John is jerking off on the other bed. Wyatt, having shared a room with his brother his entire life, has often heard the sound of secret masturbation. The slight sound of skin rubbing, at a clip, against the sheets; skin on skin, hand gliding across the organ. Wyatt looks lecherously over at his roommate's bed, squinting his eyes to adjust to the low light provided by a streetlight in the distance, bleeding through the crack where the shade meets the sill. There he sees the shadowy blur of John's right forearm, a silent jackhammer as it pumps up and down John's 7 inches. Wyatt pushes down off the underwear and kicks it off, revealing his diamond hard cock, a bead of precum clinging to the tip. He grabs his cock with his left hand and starts pumping up and down, matching John in speed and rhythm. John's breathing quickens as he continues to pump his cock, either oblivious or throwing caution to the wind by licking his hand to provide some lubrication. Wyatt copies his every move, relishing in the symmetry between him and his perfect-crush roommate, licking his own hand as lube for the first time, rippling with pleasure when he feels his wet hand sliding up and down his shaft. John pumps faster than he's pumped all night, the heel of his hand slapping the skin of his thighs with a gentle smack and his breathing gives way to a whimpering moan. Wyatt peers into clear darkness at John, whose head is thrown back with pleasure as white-hot blobs of cum shoot out in ropes onto the freshman's white chest. At this exact moment is when Wyatt shoots his own Asian boy load onto his skinny hairless tummy and chest, moaning lightly between gasping breaths. The two boys bask in the dark, giving into the call to sleep, not bothering to wipe up the mess.
Wyatt wakes up a couple hours later, right before dawn. He grabs his crumpled underwear with his toes and sloppily launches them onto his chest. It lands and he uses the underwear to wipe up his cum, some of which has already dried onto his smooth skin. He sees that John has gone into his covers and wonders whether he cleaned up before getting in the covers before the potential gravity of the situation came down to earth. Would everything be ruined and would their friendship be over before it even got started? These thoughts kept him awake until a couple hours past sunrise when John started to stir.
John gropes for his BlackBerry as he struggles to open his eyes for the day. He clears his throat a couple times and lets out a big yawn. If there's any awkwardness from last night, he's not showing it. Wyatt lays in his bed motionless, unnerved by the ordinariness of the morning--John smiles looking from below at his phone, thumbs clicking furiously on the analog keypad. Giving his phone a gentle toss onto the bed, he swings his legs to a seated position and asks Wyatt how he slept. Without a single hint of deference for the situation, and still nude, he unburies a towel from his suitcase on the way to the shower. John hadn't done a great job cleaning off last night and he was still covered in dry cum. He soaps up his body and washes off last night.
The roommates start their classes. A friend group proliferates around them the way they do in a small college community. The first-year social experience is made up of many moments in a dorm room, and their dorm room became the de facto hangout spot--where they pass around handles of vodka in clear plastic bottles before the main weekend event. Wyatt admires John as he makes a face, externalizing the recoil from feeling of cheap vodka down the throat, which gets a good laugh from the group. Wyatt tries to be stoic as he takes his shot, trying not to show any emotion at all, his face always betraying his disgust at the last moment.
The events of their first night of college never came up in conversation. The boys proceed to spend most of their time together: sharing a table at the library with their flash cards and reading assignments laid out, they grab seconds, thirds of dining hall food in permutations of the friend group and they talk about everything. But not everything. There are some days Wyatt is convinced John didn't realize anything was happening at all. But Wyatt knows that John knew what he was doing that night--Wyatt knows it, or at least he's convinced.
Concord's annual Halloween party is happening this weekend and Wyatt and John still need costumes. The roommates arrive at the Halloween store at the mall and are met with endless choices. "How about this?" John says, sarcastically, holding up a sexy nurse costume. "You know, men can be nurses too. Where's are the sexy male nurse costumes?" Wyatt quipped. The two continued to flip through the rack of clothes until something catches Wyatt's attention. There are two Spider-Man morphsuits, skin tight, one-piece costumes made of spandex with super hero outfits printed on them. Wyatt imagines how the costume would look on John, hugging every inch of his body. How it would accentuate his upper body, shoulders and arms growing steadily from the gym. He imagined helping John into the suit, standing right behind him, the thin fabric of the morphsuit accentuating his bubble butt as Wyatt pulls the zipper up.
"How about this?" Wyatt asks, holding the suit on its hanger out in front of him. John's eyes lit up mischievously and he nods slowly.
"Well we gotta try `em on! It'll be like the Spider-Man meme where the two Spider-Men point at each other!"
"Totally! It'll be our bit all night. Let's grab a dressing room?"
In the chaos of the store the Thursday evening before Halloween weekend, the two managed to slip into the same dressing room unnoticed, despite the paper sign on the door that warned against it. Wyatt's heart is racing as he stands next to John, who begins to undress right away, his t-shirt flipping inside-out as he removes it overhead. He takes off his shoes and unbuttons his jeans, pulling them all the way off until he's standing in just his boxers. "Hmm, if I wear boxers under this costume it'll look all bunched up. Would it be weird if I went commando?" John asked out loud, almost rhetorically. Wyatt is also taking his clothes off, unbuttoning his crisp white shirt slowly, hanging it up on the hook so it doesn't touch the floor, with his slacks and shoes in a neat pile in the corner. The two boys stand side by side in front of the dressing room mirror contemplating their next move. Sure, Wyatt's thighs and legs were a hair thinner than John's, and John had the beginnings of pecs next to Wyatt's smooth and flat chest, but the boys had very similar bodies.
"Well...I think we should at least try it without underwear." Wyatt managed to say, trying to mask the excitement in his voice. It was time for him to be bold this time; Wyatt peels off his white briefs and adds them to the neat pile of his clothes in the corner, avoiding eye contact with John. John glances over quickly at his roommate's bare ass, something he's seen a number of times at this point now that they've shared a room for a couple months. Wyatt's ass is smooth and smaller than his own bubble butt. He begins to wonder how Wyatt's cheeks would feel cupped in his hand. There's something about the changing room environment that arouses him--the fact that they're not supposed to be in there together, the fact that Wyatt is so bad at hiding his crush, how much power he feels he has over him. John's growing erection betrays his arousal as he slips off his plaid boxer shorts, his dick springing up slightly as the elastic band runs across it. Wyatt, oblivious to John's peacocking, wills himself with all his self control not even to steal a look in the mirror. The boys slide on the costumes, with each other's help with the zipper, and admire their reflection. They change back into their clothes and check out.
The roommates and their friend group arrive at the athletic center, which has been transformed into a haunted house for the annual Halloween dance. Wyatt looks around at the cacophony of cultural reference costumes and has to do a double take to recognize even his close friends; back at the pregame in their room, no one could tell between the two boys when they had their masks on. Annie kept grabbing Wyatt's arm, and sat extra close to him thinking he was the other. John glanced across the room as his close friends kept touching, feeling confused about the envy he felt not of Wyatt, but towards Annie. He didn't feel like himself; John lost any sense of self whenever he caught sight of his roommate, an exact body double. Emboldened, perhaps, by the vodka, or maybe just giving into a smoldering desire that he's always kept at bay, John yanks Wyatt by the arm to get his attention. Pushing himself into another group of revelers, he takes a huge step back and points directly at Wyatt, who recognizes the meme and points right back at John. The strangers in costume around them laugh and take pictures.
John runs off, a drunken flight of fancy, knowing that Wyatt wouldn't be far behind. He runs out of the gymnasium, through the hallways of the athletic center, into the weight room where he and Wyatt would take turns spotting each other on the bench. He goes into the seldom used, small locker room connected to the weight room only stopping once he reaches the last row of lockers. Wyatt enters the dimly lit locker room. Suddenly surrounded by walls of metal lockers, he hears the faint pounding of music from the gym which feels like a world away. He pulls off his mask, panting a bit, and tiptoes across the tile floor, expecting his roommate to jump out and scare him at any moment. Instead, Wyatt finds an expectant John sitting on the tile floor against the lockers in the back row. Now John removes his mask and flashes a smile at his roommate, inviting him to sit down with two gentle pats on the ground next to him. Wyatt does as he's told, taking a seat next to John as their legs clad in Spider-Man costume spandex press firmly against each other's.
"I think about that first night of college a lot" John starts. Wyatt's mouth opens slightly, in disbelief at what he hears as each boy's erection stirs at the same time. John reaches out his hand, covered by a silky smooth spandex glove that extends to cover the rest of his body, and places it on Wyatt's thigh. Wyatt shudders and leans in closer to John, his thigh pressing harder now into his roommate's. There's no hiding their lust as the thin spandex expands to encompass their growing passion. John smooths his hand over Wyatt's inner thigh and then brushes against his hard cock for just a moment, never breaking eye contact. Wyatt mirror's John and runs his hand over John's thigh and ventures further, putting his hand on his roommate's hard cock, running his hand over the ridge on the head of his cut cock.
John whimpers as Wyatt grabs his cock through the Spider-Man costume, his precum leaving a wet spot visibly darker than the rest of the costume. "That feels so fucking good dude" John whispers into Wyatt's ear, finishing his sentence by licking and gently nibbling his earlobe. Wyatt shutters at this as a wave of pleasure rolls through his body. He repositions himself to be seated on top of John's lap facing him and presses his forehead against his roommate's and stays there for a moment before going for a sloppy, open mouthed kiss. Wyatt feels John's tongue against his own: big, soft, and wet, moaning as John's tongue curls around his own, exploring every inch. While making out, John starts moving his hips underneath his lover, the smooth costume material allowing his cock to easily glide between Wyatt's legs, which Wyatt eagerly spreads to let John's 7 inches slide between his cheeks.
John's hands explore Wyatt's slender frame, gliding over his flat tummy and stopping to caress his small nipples. Wyatt inhales sharply and whimpers when John touches his nipples, learning in that moment of their sensitivity. "Fuck John, I've wanted this for so long..." Wyatt admits, eyes closed. John smirks at this admission, unzips the top of the Wyatt's costume and peels the top half of the costume off his friend's body to reveal smooth, tan skin and dark brown, dime-sized nipples, hard from the attention. John licks Wyatt's neck passionately, his natural sweet scent mixed with the salty tang of sweat. Wyatt grips John's head and runs his hands through John's soft brown hair, feeling ecstasy from being devoured.
The boys cocks have been rubbing hard against each other's bodies and their balls were starting to ache for release. "Dude..." John whispers "I'm kinda getting like, close." He quickens his pace, rubbing his hard college boy cock in between Wyatt's eager cheeks. Wyatt's dick rubs against John's chest and abs as he gains speed, humping his friend and pulling him closer and tighter as the two boys near climax. Wyatt leans in hard to kiss his friend, his tongue's pace matching their frotting. "Fuck...fuck...I'm getting really close." Wyatt's body tightens and he firmly presses John's chest into his dick as he rubs furiously until he climaxes and his hot boy cum shoots out of his cock, creating a large wet spot on his costume. At that same moment, John practically growls as he cums too, filling his costume with his own hot boy cum, the waves of pleasure in sync with his friend's. The pair collapse side by side onto the tile floor in a dreamlike daze, and they lay there for a few minutes before sneaking out of the party back to their room.