Disclaimer and Legal Stuff: Don't read this if you're not supposed to, either because you live in a regressive community or you don't like erotic stories about gay sex (in which case, why are you here?). If you distribute this story, that's fine, just don't edit it, and leave my name on it. Thanks.
Student Orientation
By
MaineBoyXY@aol.com
I felt like a drowned rat, as I stood under the cascading water in the dorm shower. The cold water matted my clothes to my body, and water poured off my hair down into the collar of my shirt. I reached up and turned the water off. I stepped out of the door-less stall into the tiled corridor, making my way out of the bathroom. My feet squished into my waterlogged shoes with each step. I went back down the hall to my room, and looked for something to use to blot myself dry. I knew there wasn't anything there, I'd only carried in one box -- desk stuff. Soaking and dripping, I left the room, descended the three flights of stairs at the end of the hall, and walked out of the dorm.
It was two days before new student orientation. The campus had looked deserted as I had driven through; I guess most kids were waiting until the last minute to move in. There were a few cars in my parking lot, but no one to be seen. It was actually a great day for moving, not like the day I'd toured the campus almost a year ago with my parents. It had been hot and sticky then, and no matter how inert a person was, he perspired. There was almost no humidity now, rare for August in this part of the country, and a gentle breeze blew. I lifted a box out of the trunk of my car and headed towards the quad. Three Georgian-style dorm buildings squared off against the parking lot, with a wide grassy area between the trees lining the sidewalk along the two buildings perpendicular to it. They were some kind of shade trees, elms or something, that looked like they'd been there since God was a boy.
When I'd gotten halfway up the parking lot, I heard voices and looked up to see two guys walk out into the sun from the shade on the right. One carried a Frisbee, but I couldn't take my eyes off the other. He was tall, over six feet, and had shaggy blond hair. It could have been a surfer cut, if it hadn't gone out of style almost a decade earlier. The sides and back were only a little longer than average, but the bangs easily reached his eyebrows. He was thin, but not scrawny, the sort of build you get when you're active with walking and biking and playing sports, but you don't actually work out. He was wearing leather sandals, and a lightweight, plaid short-sleeved shirt was open over his white T-shirt, neither tucked into his khaki shorts. He had one of those woven bracelets on his left wrist.
I didn't realize I had been staring at him until I saw him glance and me, then turn and stare back. His friend, a dark-haired guy in jeans and beer T-shirt, watched me too. I quickly looked down at the top of the box I carried, but I knew it was too late. Busted! Well, whatever. I knew I was gay, but I hadn't planned on coming out like this. The blond said something to the other guy -- I was too far away to hear -- and they both laughed. I felt the red flooding into my face. I caught movement in the corner of my eye as the two guys spread out and began to toss the Frisbee. I'd reached the quad and was making my way around to the building facing the parking lot. In my embarrassment, it seemed like forever until I'd walked the length of the quad.
I was on the third floor. University administrators have a lot of fun with incoming freshman. They stick them in the buildings farthest from the parking lots, and with some extra consideration I'd gotten the top floor, too. I guess the close dorms are perks of seniority. By the time I got to my floor, even this light box of office supply crap was heavy; I couldn't wait to get to the other boxes in the car. I made my way down the hall, looking for the room number I'd gotten in the mail a couple weeks earlier. I found my room, unlocked the door, and walked inside.
It wasn't too bad, for a dorm. There was a bed, lengthwise, on each of the two side walls, and a flat topped desk at the foot of each bed. A chair was behind each desk, and to the side of each desk, away from the bed, was a closet door. On the wall facing the hall door were three windows, one between the beds in the center of the wall, and one over each headboard. I put my box on the left desk, and walked to the head of the bed. The bare mattress looked clean at least. I opened the Venetian blinds of the center window and looked out. The room was in the back of the building. I could see the lake through the trees, and across the pond, the women's dorms.
The campus was shaped like a horseshoe around the lake, with the academic buildings in the center, and the residences at each end. The university hadn't even admitted women until World War I, and to protect the virtue of the belles, the women's dorms were separated by water from the men's. Only a wooden footbridge connected the two. Good old Southern values. Still, it was a nice view.
I drew up the blinds and opened all the windows, then headed back to grab the next box. When I got to the stairs and looked down, the blond from the quad was on the landing. He looked up at me and smiled.
"Hey, you're early," he said as he climbed the last flight. When he stood two steps down from the floor, he was eye to eye with me. He must have been about 6'3" to my 5'10". He tossed his head back and to the left to swing his bangs out of his eyes as he stuck out his hand. "I'm Tom Patterson, the floor RA. What's your name?"
I took his hand and his grip was unexpectedly strong. "Jeff Gaskins," I returned.
He released my hand and draped his arm over my shoulders. His green eyes were hypnotizing. He turned me away from the stairs and back down the hall. "Great to have you, Jeff. Which room are you in?"
"327," I answered.
"Good room," he nodded. "Lake view." He paused. "Well, OK, they all suck, but they're dorms. They could be worse." He pointed to the end of the hall. "My room's down there. If you need anything -- neighbors too noisy, room mate too obnoxious -- just let me know."
We stopped at my room. I'd left the door open, knowing I'd be carrying boxes on the next trip. Tom looked inside. "No `rents to help out?"
"No, my dad works overseas," I answered.
"Hey, you can't move in by yourself! It'll take you all day. Besides, that stuff's going to be heavy hoofing it up three flights of stairs. Let me go take a leak, and I'll help you out."
"Thanks, that'd be great!" I was surprised by the enthusiasm in his tone, and not just about helping me move. He had amazing charisma, the way he looked, the smile, especially the eyes. Before I knew what had happened, he'd pulled me into the dorm bathroom with him.
The bathroom was a floor-to-ceiling tile job. On the wall facing the door were five urinals, and three door-less toilet stalls were immediately right of the door. On the left wall were four sinks with large mirror over the splash boards. On the right wall was an entry to a tiled corridor, off from which opened the shower stalls. Tom guided me to the center of the bathroom, then withdrew his arm and took his place at the end urinal. I didn't know why, but my gaze followed his hand as he reached down, tucked in the front of his T-shirt, and unzipped his fly. I couldn't see his cock the way the plaid shirt's tail draped at his sides, but I could see the stream of piss when it began.
"How long have you known you're gay, Jeff" I heard a voice say. Startled, I looked up to see Tom staring at me. I didn't even know how long I'd been looking at his crotch. I felt the heat as my face reddened. Tom reached down, shook his dick a second, and tucked it back inside. He never turned his face from mine as he carefully watched my reaction. He turned to me as he zipped back up.
"Uh, since high school." I stammered. He smiled.
"It's OK, Jeff. I'm bisexual myself." He washed his hands, then walked over to face me. He reached out with one hand and lightly brushed my cheek with his thumb. "You're actually pretty cute. Jock?"
I nodded. "Soccer," I mumbled. He smiled. Those eyes. He reached down and unzipped his fly again. He looked down, and my eyes followed his, as he reached into his shorts and pulled out his cock. It was pretty long, even soft, and cut. I looked back up at him, and his eyes had returned to mine.
"How does it look?"
"Good," I heard myself whisper. His smile widened. His teeth were perfect, and perfectly white. He looked back down, and again, my eyes followed his. I stared at his cock as it started to harden. I felt his arm on my shoulders again, but I couldn't take my eyes off his cock as we began to walk down towards the showers.
"Are you gay or bisexual?"
"Gay," I replied, still watching his cock.
"Have you been with any guys before?" I nodded. "How many?"
"Just one. Guy from high school." I was in a trance or something.
"Are you out?"
"No, I've been thinking about coming out, but I haven't decided when or how." We were at the showers, and Tom backed me into one of the open stalls. His cock was hard now. It was thinner than average, but long. He reached down and groped my package. I hadn't even realized I was hard myself until I felt his hand touch me. I took my eyes off his dick and looked down at my own crotch. My shorts were tented, and there was a dark spot from precum. How long had I been hard?
"Want to suck me off, Jeff?"
I looked up at him. His features were soft, and his eyes were almost imploring. He bit his lower lip. "Yes!" I whispered. He smiled and nodded slowly.
I fell to my knees instantly. I pulled his draping plaid shirttails back to his hips and tucked them into the waist of his khakis. I leaned into his crotch and pressed my cheek onto his shaft as I breathed in the smell of his musk through the open fly. I moved my hands to his ass, and cupped his firm mounds. They felt surprisingly muscular; I must have underestimated his athleticism. My breath was ragged as I pulled my face back and took the head of his cock between my lips. It was hot and spongy as I licked it all over. Tom moaned above me, and I looked up to see his eyes closed and a look of concentration on his face. I sucked harder.
His mouth fell open and his hips began to rock. I swept my tongue from side to side, pressing it against him, as he slowly thrust in and out between my tightly clenched lips. He lowered his head and his bangs swung down. His eyes read my face as he slid his cock in and out of my mouth. He never thrust in too hard, never trying to make me take him. I began to move my head down on his shaft, and he reached up to slide the fingers of both hands into my hair. I saw him wince as I swallowed the length of his cock and his head pressed through into my throat. He was panting, and I could feel the tension in his ass cheeks as they tightened. I pulled back and completely voluntarily impaled my face on his cock over and over again.
He was so hot, and his face was gorgeous as I watched the signs of his pleasure morph into signs of lust and desperation. He hands on my head were never demanding, never compelling, just encouraging as his fingers buried into my hair. After some time, his eyes clenched shut and his jaw clamped tightly. His head fell back and I could feel the start of his orgasm as his ass trembled. I went down for one last deep throat, but I timed it poorly, and he shot his first spurt just as I breathed in through my nose. I sputtered and gagged slightly, and his cum ran out passed my lips and onto my shirt. I quickly recovered, and began sucking and licking the head of his cock as he cried out.
For the first time, his hands clutched my head tightly, a reflex action, as he pumped a half dozen loads onto my tongue. His spunk tasted thick and salty and I rolled it over my tongue. It was only seconds after the last load when he lowered his head to look down at me. He pulled his dick from my lips and wiped it on both of my cheeks before tucking it back into his fly.
He smiled as he reached back and grabbed my wrists, removing my hands from him. The smile was different, not friendliness now, but satisfied condescension. "Thanks, Jeff," he said as he zipped up. "You've got some of my cum on your shirt. Better get that out before it stains or anything." He reached over me and flipped on the water. The coldness shook me from whatever form of suspended consciousness I'd been in, and as he turned to walk away, I realized I still held his cum in my mouth. "It'll be nice having a resident cocksucker," I heard him call, and followed by the thud of the bathroom door closed behind him.
Kneeling there, I swallowed.