AN INFERNO STORY by LARRY LONG ***
DORM
I was sitting in my dorm room, studying. You know, one of those difficult nights, when an all-nighter was called for. I was craming for a Final in Cultural Anthropology, a course which I should be able to Ace, but for which I was way behind. Too much coffee. Too many cigarrettes, kinda nervous. Midnight. Only so much time to go to an 8 am exam.
I was a little surprised when there was a knock on my door. While midnight is not so late in a college dorm, still, I wasn't expecting anybody, and everybody that I knew was in the same study/mess that I was in. I got up slowly and pulled my worn terrycloth robe around my naked body and tied belt. Late spring in Southern California can be very hot, and I had tried to cool off before begining my allnighter with a shower. Living alone in the room as I did, (my roomate had dropped out of school earlier that year), I didn't always bother to dress, although, come to think of it, even when my roomate had been there we didn't always dress.
I should describe myself, I guess. I am 5'7", 135#, a college sophomore. I am pretty good looking, hard body, and young. And gay.
I walked over the door and opened it. There wasn't any hesitation, we didn't worry much about being mugged or anything in those days in the dorms.
There was a young boy, about 13 years old, standing the in the hallway in front of me. He was about 5'4", and very very pretty, the kind of dark olive skin with very black eyebrows and lashes that are strikingly pretty on a young, smooth skinned boy, and make him so much prettier than any girl can ever be. I didn't know him, but I sure wanted to.
"Hi, I'm Phil, Steve's friend." he said to me and just waited there for me to do something.
"Phil, come in. Steve told me all about you."
Steve was my cousin, my father's sister's boy. He was 6 years younger than I was, and a very athletic, handsome young man. The previous spring he had come to visit with me when I was a freshman in the same dorm, and had stayed with me for a week. I had really gotten to know him during that time, and had taught him a lot about growing up, espcially I had taught him how to masturbate. He really took to jacking off, and by the time he went home, he was great at it, and had even made it with me. We had beat eachother off for the first time in the showers in the dorm, at 3am, and then gone back to my room. My roomie was away, and we had 69ed for the first time in his life. He shot a huge load of jiz into my mouth, and took mine all the way, and was hooked at that point.
Steve had told me at Christmas vacation about his experiences at camp, and his good friend Phil, whom he had broken in and taught in much the same way that I had taught him. While he and Phil didn't live in the same town, they had managed to visit each other during the year more than a few times, and had had some wild vacations together. Steve told me at Easter that his friend Phil would be visiting in Los Angeles, and would like to stop up and see me. He said that he had told him all about me, and that he needed a place to stay and wanted to stay with me for a night or two. I thought that sounded just fine.
Phil came on into the room and set his pack down, which he had been carrying over one shoulder. He was dressed in loose fitting jeans and thong sandals, with a loose t-shirt on top. That was all. It was hot, as I told you, and California in the 60's was as informal as it can get. His jeans were bell-bottomed, the t-shirt tie-dyed, and the sandals were authentic Indian imports. Phil's hair was slightly on the long side, but not too much, and not as long as mine, which came down to the small of my back. His body was slim and tight under the loose fitting clothes, his face was chisled, with smooth but hard lines. But, while the lines of his bones were hard, there was a soft beauty about him that was unreal, etherial, the kind of young boy beauty that will evaporate quickly in time, with the onset of puberty and the begining of changes in bone, muscle, and hair. His body was perfect, like a young man's body, more like a young-man-body than a young man's body will ever be. It was perfect boy-dom.
Now I was really in a pinch. I had that exam the next morning, for which I was geared up to study. But I had this perfect boy here, and his body was calling to mine, his juices were calling to mine, his dick was calling to mine, his mouth was calling to mine, his ass was calling to mine, his jiz was calling to mine, and..... what was I to do? Fuck it. I could always take a make up, I could always take an incomplete, shit, I could always fail Cultural Anthropology, but I don't think an opportunity like this would be likely to come again soon.
I sat on the bed across the room from Phil, but across the room is misleading since the dorm rooms were only 8 feet wide, and with the beds 30 inches wide, that left a 3 foot space between. Sitting there, my knees were almost touching his, and I could see the beginings of a bulge starting to disturb the front of my robe. I couldn't see too much of what was going on inside his pants, they were very loose and he was thin. Phil reached up to his shoulder, the one on which his pack had been slung, and began to knead the muscle firmly, showing a little bit of pain on his face.
"What's wrong?", I asked him.
"You hurt your shoulder or your neck?"
"A little, I think." he answered me.
"I think it is from carrying this pack and hitching all weekend. It was really tiring and the pack is heavy. I think I just strained it or something." As he said this a little smile began to play on his lips, almost as if he were getting off on the sensation of massaging and rubbing his own shoulder. And with that smile his dark eyes and lashes brushed against the creamy olive of his skin, and his beauty nearly drove me hard with passion.
"You gonna stay here for the night or a couple?" I asked him.
"Steve said you would be needing a place, and I have the room. You are more than welcome," I said to him, and leaned over and patted his thigh right above the knee. I left my hand there.
"Yeah, if you don't mind and are sure you can. I can see you're studying, and I don't want to mess you up," Phil said.
"Don't worry about it," I replied.
"I have 10 days before I have to take this exam." This lie was excused, in my mind, by my anticipation of the night to come. And, anyway, the boy needed a place to stay, and I was practically family, him being so close to my favorite cousin and all. My dick throbbed in agreement with this thought.
Phil stretched his lithe young body and yawned.
"God, I am sore. I've been on the road for 9 hours on a bus from my uncle's house in San Jose. I need a shower and some rest."
We had a communal shower on our floor of the dorm. While we had a private toilet, there was only one shower room on each floor, and in it were six showers with no partitions, YMCA style.
"I'll take you to the showers. They are down the hall, and should be empty this time of night. Leave your stuff in here, its safe. And I'll lend you a towel to wear as you go." With that I stood up and went to my closet and took down a very large, soft beach towel, my favorite, and turned back to Phil.
Phil had gotten up and stripped. It was easy. His thongs slipped off easily, his shirt slid over his head and shoulders, and his bell bottoms were loose enough that they slid down over his smooth, round buns and thighs as soon as he opened the snap and the fly. And then he was naked. No briefs, no jock, no shorts, under those bells he wore nothing, and now this 13 year old Adonis was naked in my dorm room. Steve had been right. Phil was perfect, his body just boy-right, his dick was smooth, rounded, filling just a little so it stood just a bit out from his body. There was no hair on him, except for a small patch of bush just around the base of his dick, which was dark against the olive of his skin. Just under his arm pits, also, there was a light patch of downy hair, and nowhere else. The rest of his body was smooth. But not baby-like. His muscles were well defined, in a boyish way, and his buns were round and smooth like the most perfect melons.
Phil took the towel from my hand and draped it across his body, so that it covered him like a Roman Toga. His muscled thigh stood out on one side, and the area in front of his crotch was slightly raised.
"Let's get me to that shower," he said.
"And, afterwards, would you give me a rub down? Steve told me you're great at it, and I really need it. I am really sore."
Well, I was ready.....
DORM 2
I went with Phil down the hall to the showers on our floor. As I had suspected, there was nobody there at that time of night, although the room smelled moist and showed signs of recent usage. There were puddles of water in the shower area itself, and a few small ones in the small changing area where some hooks on the wall and a couple of small benches had been placed to help those boys too shy to walk down the hall stripped preserve their modesty. This dorm was one of the few still all male dorms, and there was little caution about nakedness on the floors at night. Even those few females who managed to either wander in or be brought in for a little sex with their boyfriends had grown accoustomed to the sight of the naked dormie-boys wandering to the showers. In this liberal age of the 1960's, there was nothing unusual in this. Most of the student population prided itself on having shed the
"uptightness" of its parental generation and
"letting it all hang out." In Phil's case, I thought, there was plenty to let hang out.
In addition to the puddles and a couple of dorm-issue wet towels lying around, the room had that steamy, overheated and humid feel that makes a shower room comfortable. Phil removed the towel from around his shoulders and body, reaveling his naked body to me again, his dick loose but slightly filled with hot blood. It stood out just a little from his loose, hanging ballsack, and swung back and forth gently and interestingly as he walked under the shower head and turned on the water.
"I think I'll take a shower, too," I said to him, and opened my terry robe, which was all I had been wearing.
"I have only this one bar of soap, though," I added, as I took a bar of Ivory out of my robe pocket.
"And this Shampoo," I said and took the shampoo out of the other pocket.
I stepped naked under the shower head next to him, and turned on the water, letting a stream of hot steamy water flow over my body. My own dick was also just a little hard, standing out slightly from my young, hard abdomen and showing my full, big eggs swining in their bag under it. While my dick is not anything out of size, although its fine and nice, my balls are huge, and always cause comments in gyms and showers. They are literally twice the size of most boy's balls, and hold that much more juice.
"Gee," Phil said, letting the hot water run onto his neck and sore shoulder,
"I can hardly move this arm. Don't know how I am gonna wash myself well."
"Hold on a sec, Phil," I called over to him, putting down the soap and picking up the bottle of shampoo.
"I will help you, just a sec."
I opened the bottle of shampoo and poured out a small handfull. I went over close to Phil's naked, wet body, and took his head in my empty hand, pushing his head under the flow of shower water. With his hair nice and wet, I rubbed the shampoo into both my palms, and then started to massage it into his hair. Since I was a couple of inches taller than he was, it was very easy and comfortable for me to do, and he just kind of leaned into my massaging of his scalp, letting his body rub up against mine with the movements of my hands. It was inevitable that our dicks should brush against eachother, since we were facing, and that was a little too close for me, since I was still a little nervous about making it with him. After all, he was only 13, and had only made it, that I know of, with my cousin, Steve, who was his own age and his best friend. He might not consider himself to be gay, and might not assume that we would fuck that night.
I turned him around, and continued to wash his hair, now facing his back side. My dick, which was starting to stand out a little more, bumped repeatedly into his round, now wet and glistening buns. But, while I was tempted, not being sure that he was sure made me wait, not to mention that the showers were not that private. The possiblity that another dormie, also pulling a late cram for exams, would wander in to cool off was too intimidating.
Phil was getting into being rubbed, washed, and massaged, though. He was swaying gently with the motion of my hands, which were rubbing his scalp, washing his hair, and straying down to his neck and shoulder muscles as well. His skin was very smooth, made even more so by the shampoo which was sudsing all over his head and neck. The deep olive of his skin was set off by the intense white of the shampoo suds, and once again I was struck by his beauty, the kind of beauty that women can only imitate. The kind of beauty which only appears in extraordinary boys for a short period in their lives, when their bodies are just approaching the changes which will harden them and change them forever.
I looked over his shoulders as I leaned over to scrub his head and hair, and looked down the front of his body, where shampoo suds were rolling down his smooth belly and around his crotch, his dick, his balls. He wasn't hard. His dick was just gently soft/hard, as it had been, more or less, the whole time I had seen him naked. It wasn't swelling. His focus, I guess, wasn't on cumming at the moment. In a way which young boys of his age can, he was totally into being rubbed and massaged, manipulated and carressed, without it translating into a raging hardon and the need to shoot his wad. It was beautiful, that boyish, innocent response to my ministrations. Far more sensuous than if he had turned around and cum all over me. It was an opening, a receptive invitation for me, to become more and more intimate, more and more sensual with him, without it needing to be directly sexual. It took the pressure off, and I felt myself relax and begin to work his neck and shoulders more gently.
I picked up the bar of Ivory soap and began to wash his shoulders and back, rubbing the bar of soap in long strokes up and down his spine and the long muscles that stretched from his waist to his shoulders. The smooth, silky slipperyness of the soaped back made my hands fly across his flesh, and the round protrusions of his ass became a ski-jump for my palms as they ironed his flesh and pressed out all the tension. I went so far as to kneel on my knees and move down the backs of his legs and calves, and then stood up and handed him the soap. His dick was the same, just gently soft/hard, swinging with the swaying movements of his body. And, in a strange way, that was enough for me for the moment, and my dick also stayed quiet.
"Here's the soap, Phil," I said to him.
"Can you manage the front of your body yourself, with your sore shoulder, or do you need help there too?" I kind of wanted him to say he needed help, but at the same time, I didn't want to have to face the descisions I would have to make in that case, right then. Washing around his belly, his crotch, and his dick and balls would put me right up against the question, and him too. And, I thought, there will be time to come up against that later.
"Thanks," he said, and took the soap from me and began to wash himself with the same, long, sliding movements that I had used on his back, when I moved the soap from his buttocks to his shoulders and back. Only this time, he moved his hands and soap himself, up from his thighs, past his groin and around his balls and dick, and up his belly, chest, around his nipples, around his shoulder and down his arm and back again, first on one side, then the other, in long, slow, sensuous movements, his eyes closed, just enjoying the sensations. Still his dick remained as it had been, giving more and more the impression of a breathtakingly beautiful innocence.
I, on the other hand, couldn't take too much of this without becoming raging hard myself, and pushing the issue much too fast. I stepped out of the showers with my back to Phil, and reached over for my robe, slipping it on without turning around. By the time I had it on, had my dick under control, and the belt tied and was ready to turn back, he was done with his soaping and was rinsing off under the shower. His olive skin gleamed in its wetness, and even in the unflattering light in the shower room, his body was a glistening object of art.
"I'll wait for you out in the hall, Phil," I told him, preparing to cool off a little in more ways than one.
"No, please don't leave!" he called to me.
"I don't think I'll be able to dry off by myself, I really am having trouble lifting this arm," he said.
From where I was watching, I hadn't noticed too much trouble in his movements of his arm, either one. As he had stroked himself with the soap all over the front of his body, he seemed to be able to move ok, but, it was possible that trying to dry his back, even with the towel slung over his shoulder, would hurt him. And the towel was a big one, and heavy for someone with a sore shoulder. It might be an invitation to more, it might just be the truth, he might just like getting rubbed. I didn't care. He asked. I would be glad to oblige.
DORM CHAP 3
I walked over to him and took the towel out of his hands. This left him standing naked and dripping wet on the floor of the shower room. His glistening body was smooth and the skin was slightly flushed from the hot shower. His dick was exactly as it had been all evening, flaccid, slightly engorged, standing out just a little, swinging like a sausage attached to his body, his balls hanging loose and large in his sack.
I stepped around behind him, where I had a clear view of his smooth back and his round, mellon buns, and began to dry him with the big towel. It was soft and very thirsty, and I rubbed his back with it, up and down, and then down around his buns and around the backs of his legs. I began my way back up again, drying between his legs. He stood with them slightly apart, I could see his balls swinging in their sack between those muscular boy-thighs. I moved the towel all the way back up to his neck, and began to dry his hair, rubbing his head and massaging the nape of his neck.
"Turn around," I told him when his back was dry,
"and I will get the rest of you."
He did, without a word, and with seeming no embarrasment or hesitation. His dick was the same, showing no definite sign one way or the other to give me my cue. I began to dry the front of his body, begining with his face and neck, and working my way slowly down his chest, spending a good bit of time on his nipples and chest. I dried off his belly and got to his crotch. I bypassed the decision, and began to dry his legs and his ankles. I began back up again on the insides of his legs and thighs, and he spread his legs a little more. I began to dry his balls and crotch, and for a little while he just stood there, taking it.
Then he moved his hand down over mine where I was drying him and took the towel out of my hands.
"Let's go back to the room," he said.
"I really need that body rub you are supposed to be so good at." He smiled and took the towel and wrapped it loosely around his body, so that when he walked his dick swung out into the open. He went to the door of the shower room and opened it into the hall and began to walk back to my room, his dick swinging in and out of cover under the toga made by the towel loosely draped over his body.
When we got into the room, he dropped the towel to the floor. I got a fresh, dry one out of the closet and spread it out on the bed, and told him to lie down on it.
"I will give you that massage now," I told him. He lay on his belley, his round mellon buns sticking up in the air, his legs slightly spread so that I could see his loose, relaxed ball sack between his legs on the bed. I went to the chest of drawers and took a bottle of olive oil out of the top drawer. It was smooth and good for lubrication in a rub down, and in case I wound up having to eat some, it was good for me. I had eaten too much massage oil in my years there in the dorms, and massage oil and baby oil tended to make me sick to my stomach. Olive oil didn't.
Phil lay on the bed very relaxed, looking almost asleep. I took some of the oil onto my palms to warm it up, and then began to spread it out on his smooth, olive skinned back. His boy-body was smooth, hairless, the skin soft and supple, the muscles very well defined for a boy his age. I began to work the oil into the skin and muscles of his neck, rubbing along the long muscles and smoothing out the skin. I could feel his relax under my touch, as though he had been waiting for me to touch him, and now was sure of himself.
I poured a little more oil onto my palms and began to work the long muscles of his back and shoulders, working all the way down and onto his round, smooth, mound-like buns, and then over those buns and off them down onto his thighs. He spread his legs a little, the inside of his thighs and the area between his balls and crack still moist from the long hot shower. His balls were still relaxed, the sack loose. I began to rub on his thighs, stroking all the way down to his calves on the outside, then rubbing back up with my fingers lingering on the inside. He spread his legs a little more, offering me more of the sweet crack.
I began to spend most of the time massage that butt, the buns, and the crack. He began to respond, moving under my hands, his crotch rising to meet my hands as they came up and approached his balls. Each time, I would move my hands around to the surface of his buns just before making definite contact with his balls. I kept this up for quite a while, until I noticed that his dick was now quite large and was protruding from under his belly out the side as he lay on the towel. His ball-sack had constricted quite a bit now, and his balls were pulled up tighter to his body. He was moving with a definite matching rhythm to my stroking of his buns and legs.
"Turn over," I said to him.
"I want to do your front now." I stepped back a little and poured some more oil into my hands, making a show of not noticing the now almost completely hard dick which bounced out from his body as he turned over. He made a definite motion of turning over facing me, showing his dick, rather than the other way and hiding it for a moment. He lay quietly on his back, his dick sticking up into the air from his body, his eyes locked on to my face. I warmed the oil in my palms and began to rub it into his chest and the front of his neck. I spent a little bit of time on his smooth chest and abdoment, especially around his nipples and belly button, using long, stroking motions, coming closer and closer to his dick. Finally I allowed my oiled hands to brush it on the return stroke, but still without actually taking it.
I stepped back for a moment and reoiled my hands, warming the oil again in my palms, and then began to rub his thighs from the front, taking care to casually graze his balls and dick with the side of my hands on each stroke. His dick was now completely hard, and was stupendous looking. He dick was full sized, but he was still thirteen, and therefore boy-sized. That made his dick even more wonderful looking.
As he gazed up and me with his soft, boy-beautiful eyes, the dark lashes brushing his face and he blinked, the dark eyebrows setting off the olive of his skin, I oiled my hands and again warmed a palm-ful of the olive oil. I began to rub it into his belly, this time making sure to get a good bit of it onto his dick without actually holding it. I could see that his dick was throbbing now, and it was quite well lubricated with the olive oil. All that remained was to get some onto his balls and sack, which I did at the same time. He closed his eyes and began to move slightly in rhythm to my massage.
I took his dick into my oiled palm, and at the same time took his ball sack into my other hand. He was already quite ready. I began to gently massage his dick and balls, moving them in opposite motions, the balls being rubbed in one direction, the dick in the other. I rubbed his dick up against his well oiled belly, picking up more lubricant, and then wrapped my and around it and began to stroke it properly, all the while playing with his balls and ball-sack. He began to moan, and his balls climbed up into his crotch as if they were getting ready to explode. They were swollen with a massive load of boy jiz ready to cum out.
He opened his eyes and looked right into mine. At the same time his dick, which was already as big as I thought it could possibly get, began to swell and throb even more. His balls began to vibrate, and the next thing I knew, load after load of fresh, white, creamy, sweet boy-cum was pumping out of his hard, swollen, throbbing boy-penis. I kept my hand stroking gently, and his dick kept squirting and squirting. It felt as if it were going on for 10 minutes at least, but I guess it must have been 45 seconds or a minute. But what a minute.
Jiz shot all over the place. The first massive explosion shot over his face as he lay on his back and hit the wall behind the bed. I leaned over in fascination, and the next load hit me square in the face, some of it getting onto my lips, which I wasted no time in licking into my mouth. The next load hit me square in the chest, and dripped down onto his chest and belly. The next load hit his chest, and then they began to taper off, the last four loads oozing out onto his abdomen.
I set his dick down onto his belly and began to rub it with a circular pressure against his body and he shot four more little loads off against himself.
He opened his eyes and looked right up into mine. His eyes held mine completely. I didn't even know where I was.
"I guess I'd like to stay for a few days. Is there room in here for both of us?" he asked me.
I guess you know the answer.