Tutoring Three Jocks

This story is complete fiction. Any similarities between these fictional characters and any living person is purely coincidental.

The response to my story "Tutoring Three Jocks" was so much more than I was expecting. Many of you requested a continuation, so I decided to explore the backgrounds of those three hot jocks, beginning with Colby.

Hopefully it will be a good read. Please let me know what you think by messaging me at writingaloud07@gmail.com. Hot college jocks will always have a place in my heart, and in my stories. And soccer players...gotta love `em!

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"We'll keep in touch" is the biggest lie you'll ever hear, and one of the ones you hear most often.

Carlos and I had been best friends since fourth grade, when he transferred to my school and we were paired together in gym class. He was crazy in a good way, in the best way. As long as he was around, I knew I would never be bored. And we were always at each other's sides.

We liked the same comic books, and even had the exact same Ultra Night Deluxe Batman case. We liked the same cartoons, the same music, and most important, we both loved soccer.

The big leagues. Someday we were going to be worldwide sports sensations, adored by kids and adults alike. And we were going to do it together. Picturing any future without Carlos was impossible.

Carlos was short, but had more than enough energy packed in that little body. Something about his "fiery Latin heart," a phrase which he got from a cheesy teen comedy. Whatever the source, usually the only way for Carlos to stop doing something was with an injury, which was why there was almost always a band-aid somewhere on his body. The first time I met him, he had a band-aid on his left cheek and a wide smile on his face.

His short jet black hair perfectly contrasted his pearly white teeth. With the way his face lit up when he laughed, Carlos's cuteness was unrivaled. Of course, I never admitted that I thought he was cute. That would have been weird. Boys weren't supposed to be cute, and they definitely weren't supposed to think other boys were cute.

Carlos had a big butt. Really. Some of the boys in our class teased him about it, telling him he had an emergency flotation device on his backside at all times, or that his farts must have had the power of nuclear bombs. Carlos didn't let it get go him, always responding that the guys should marry his butt if they liked it so much. Everyone laughed. Carlos had a talent for making people: me most of all.

So when Carlos suggested that we go skinny-dipping in his pool, I thought it was just another one of his jokes. But when he pulled off his whale-printed swim trunks and hopped in the water with a huge splash, I thought my face was going to peel off from embarrassment.

And I didn't know why. His parents weren't home, and the neighbors wouldn't be able to see over the fence in Carlos's backyard, but it was embarrassing to be naked. And I wasn't the type to embarrass easily.

"Come on, it feels great!" Carlos called.

My mind was pumping out excuses like a factory, none of which seemed good enough to deter Carlos. Seconds later, he hopped out of the pool, and yanked my shorts down. Feeling the warm sun against my naked body, and Carlos standing in front of me, grinning like an idiot, I felt the embarrassment vanish from my body in an instant. I guess it was like ripping off a band-aid – the anticipation of the moment being much more nerve-wracking than the end result.

It wasn't a big pool, but there was enough room for both Carlos and I to splash freely. Still, that didn't stop him from trying to grab me at every opportunity, which shouldn't have surprised me in the least. Carlos was a very physical person. It wasn't uncommon for him to press up right against me while we did our homework, or for him to put his leg over mine while we played video games. I never thought anything of it. If anything, I liked feeling so close to him.

Though, it was an entirely different sensation being naked. He grabbed my butt, and I grabbed his, making up some weird game on the spot that whoever grabbed the other's butt first had to imitate the cartoon character of the winner's choosing. At some point, we got tired of that, and just attempted to dunk each other in the water, and grab at each other freely.

An hour later, we hopped out of the pool and watched cartoons in Carlos's room, still naked. I wasn't embarrassed at all. Conversely, I liked being naked inside. It was like Carlos and I had this big secret, running through the house even when we knew his parents could come home at any minute. Being with Carlos was exciting. And being naked with Carlos was downright thrilling.

By the time we were in seventh grade, Carlos and I had built up a routine, one that usually involved doing something naked. In the three years since we first swam naked together, our bodies had changed a lot, and we took no shame in documenting all of these small changes. Carlos was the first one to develop pubic hair, which was a really big deal, and made me a little jealous. I actually got so upset that I refused to talk to him while we did our math homework. It was only after he tickled me into submission that he got a peep out of me. And even though Carlos was shorter than me, he could take me down in an impromptu naked wrestling match anytime.

This was also the year that all students were forced through sex-ed, which was split into a boys' class and a girls' class. The boys' class consisted of a few noisy boys making penis jokes at every opportune moment – and there were a lot of them. Carlos elbowed me in the ribs every time our teacher, a balding man who looked way too embarrassed by the word "penis" to be teaching a sex-ed class.

Popping a boner during class came with the territory, I guess. Even without a blurry visual on the project screen, just talking about hard-ons gave me one, and I knew from the snickering and hushed whispers in the back row that I wasn't the only one experiencing arousal. And Carlos, who always sat right next to me, was horned up even more than me.

As usual, he sat close enough for our legs to be touching under the table. It was easy to see when he was hard because he absentmindedly rubbed between his legs during class. Knowing that there were tons of eyes that could catch me in a bad moment, I avoided staring at Carlos openly, but afforded the occasional peak. I was pretty sure Carlos was doing the same thing. Maybe all of us in class were. But there was no way of finding out without coming across as "weird," so I didn't dwell on it.

It was when we were staying over at my house that ignoring our boners became a problem. It was one in the morning, and we were exhausted from our action movie marathon. The plan had been to sleep in my backyard, but after feeling how cold it was outside, the idea sounded dumb, and a little childish. So we decided to pack it up and sleep in my room. While Carlos was changing, I noticed he was wearing tighty-whities. Naturally, I couldn't pass on the opportunity to tease him for it.

"My mom didn't do the laundry," he said. "And if you keep looking at me like that, I'm gonna have to charge you for the show."

The tent in his briefs was unnoticeable. "Looks like there's already one."

Carlos tossed a pillow at me, and I threw it back. Before I knew, we were rolling around the floor, trying to pin each other down. With Carlos in nothing but in his underwear, and me in my sweatpants, our bare skin rubbed together for the grand majority of our wrestling match, and by the time Carlos had my hands locked over my head, I was hard, which he pointed out by grabbing and grinning like he had just uncovered the biggest mystery in the world.

"Dude, you're so hard you're about to tear right through your sweats!"

I struggled to break free, but Carlos had me by the balls, literally. The smile gradually faded from Carlos's face, but his hand remained between my legs. My breath hitched in my throat as I watched his hand slide inside my sweatpants and underwear to grab my bare cock.

After learning about masturbation in sex-ed class, it had become a part of my nightly ritual: soaping my dick up in the shower, edging myself until I was on the brink of shooting, then taking my time to enjoy it more thoroughly in bed before I slept. This was the first time someone else was touching my dick, and Carlos's right hand felt infinitely better than my own.

He helped me kick off my sweatpants, and boxer briefs, allowing me to spread my legs while he jerked me off. Carlos's pace was slow at first, like he was really taking his time to examine my dick. He ran his thumb across the circumcised head, eliciting a gush of pre-cum that made my toes curl. He cradled my balls with one hand, while he stroked my length. And then he was teasing me.

Alternating between long, slow strokes, and rough quick ones, Carlos had my hips jutting off the carpeted floor into his tight fist, desperate for release. After what felt like an eternity, Carlos beat me off without halting his hand, and I came all over my stomach. I felt slightly dizzy afterward, but I had never been so relieved to come in my life. I panted for breath, and watched him lick my cum off his hand. I instantly knew it wouldn't be the last time we did this.

And I was right. The next day, I returned the favor in a public bathroom. We were playing soccer in the park, when Carlos had to go to the bathroom. It was a fairly small bathroom, with only three stalls and two urinals. I wasn't sure why, but I just couldn't go in a urinal. It was uncomfortable, and the last thing I wanted to be when I was peeing, was uncomfortable. So we went into separate stalls, finished, then washed our hands, when Carlos told me to follow him because he had a "great idea."

I followed him into the stall farthest away from the door, where he dropped his pants and briefs, revealing his hard-on.

"This time, you do me," he said with a smile on his face as if he had just asked for the simplest thing.

There wasn't anyone else in the bathroom, and it only seemed fair after he had given me such a good feeling yesterday. I wrapped my hand around his dick, and began stroking, pretending it was my own that I was handling. Carlos's was thinner than mine, and a little longer, but his body seemed to respond favorably to the same things that I liked. With a little curve on the upstroke, I had Carlos steading himself against the bathroom wall, thrusting into my grip.

I was mesmerized. Carlos's mouth hung open, and his eyes were glazed over in an expression I had never seen before. And when he came in my hand, I thought I was going to come in my pants. I tried jerking him off again, but his cock was sensitive, and someone walked into the bathroom, so we waited together, trying to hold in our laughter. It was like we were in the fourth grade, and this was our secret, one that no one could take from us.

Jerking each other off became part of middle school routine. The stranger the place, the better. Carlos's hormones seemed to get the better of him in public places, and more often than not, his hand was down my pants somewhere our actions could be exposed fairly easily if we hadn't learned to be at least semi-discreet. Whether it was in the movies, in the locker room after soccer practice, or in a restaurant under our table once, Carlos didn't let his nerves interfere with messing around. I wasn't even sure Carlos had nerves.

And when I was with him, neither did I. It was exciting grabbing his crotch at the theme park near our school, edging him on while he drove the bumber cars, or going straight for an open grope while we walked through the haunted house.

We were perpetually horny, and being around each other only seemed to set our hormones on fire. But after we entered high school, I began to feel different around Carlos. My heart started beating faster, and not just when he was making me shoot over my abs. The little things that I had never given a second thought appeared at the forefront of my mind.

The way Carlos's lips moved when he was lost in thought while he read, or how he always drummed his fingers from left to right when he was bored. Even though I had known Carlos for years, I felt like I was uncovering another layer to him, peeling away an old skin in favor of a fresh one. In the afterglow of jerking off together, I wasn't preoccupied with my own release, I was trying too hard not to lean forward and kiss Carlos.

We never talked about the whole masturbation thing. But I knew kissing would take things to a whole different level, an emotional one, and that would definitely freak Carlos out. Still, I couldn't stop thinking about it. I had dreams about it. Even my first wet dream wasn't about jerking Carlos off. It was imagining the two of us making out, naked, in my backyard.

Dances were big at our school, and the Halloween Bash was no exception. All the underclassmen packed into the gym, decked out in their costumes. Only two months into the year, a lot of freshmen were still adjusting, so the dance was more of a social event than anything else, a chance to see our classmates somewhere outside the classroom.

Carlos and I spent hours agonizing over the perfect costumes: ones that wouldn't appear childish, but ones that were creative enough to stand out. After binging on horror movies, we decided on a joint-costume. Carlos was a soccer player who had been in a car accident, and I was the doctor who managed to keep him alive. Our costumes afforded the opportunity to be drenched in tons of fake blood, which had dried on our skin and clothes by the time we got to the dance. Carlos's shirt had been torn to shreds, giving everyone the perfect view of his abs, which were becoming insane from all the soccer workouts he and I did together. It was hard for me not to leer at him like a starved jungle animal.

It was a little cramped whenever the DJ played an EDM song, bass pounding and vibrating across the gym floor. But that gave me the excuse to press against Carlos. He didn't seem to mind anyway. He even grinded against me. Jokingly, of course, but the friction didn't fail to leave me rock hard.

There were rumors going around that someone spiked the punch, which became increasingly obvious as I noticed that people were starting to sway without the support of the beat, and loud messages across the dance floor were slurred into unintelligible speech.

I was nervous, especially when I saw Carlos fill his cup with punch. I didn't want Carlos thinking I was a wimp, but my parents hammered responsibility into my head before letting me come to this dance. So after I filled my cup with the same punch, and we said our cheers, I hid my drink behind a gaudy fake spider web.

Carlos took to the alcohol like his throat was a sponge, always ready to absorb more and more. I had to keep him steady, which involved holding into him while he murmured things in my ear, I had no idea what he was saying, but I liked the way he said it.

Sneaking Carlos into his house, and dragging him to his room was difficult. He couldn't help at all, too caught up in finding every little thing absolutely hilarious to consider his parents might be home. Getting up the stairs without tripping was a miracle, and after he plopped down on his bed, Carlos's energy seemed to fade in an instant. He was practically passed out, a familiar goofy smile still plastered on his face.

I couldn't let Carlos sleep in his costume, right? There wasn't even that much to it, so getting him down to his briefs wasn't hard at all. My heart was pounding so hard that I could feel it in my temples, agitating and demanding. Carlos wasn't super drunk or anything, so would stealing a kiss make me the worst friend ever? There was a lot to consider, but rational thinking was the last thing my brain was capable of-so I went for it.

My first kiss, and Carlos's too. The first kiss always seemed like such a big deal in TV and in movies. Feeling Carlos's lips against my own didn't make me think that time had stopped, or that I could feel the Earth moving beneath my feet, but there was a comfort in the gentle pressure that caught me. It was different from trading handjobs. This felt comfortable.

I slowly pulled away, but Carlos grabbed my wrist and looked up at me. This wasn't the same look that shone on Carlos's face when he wanted my hand in his pants.

"Do it again," he whispered.

A second kiss lingered into a third, and a fourth, then fifth, our lips repeatedly finding each other like they couldn't beat to be separated. I wasn't really sure why I was in my underwear, something about Carlos saying it wasn't fair that I had too many clothes on. I agreed without thinking too much into it, and lay on top of him, pressing long kisses against his mouth.

He had his legs locked around my back and his hands on my shoulders, and everything just felt right. Why hadn't we been doing this the whole time? Kissing opened up a whole new dimension of intimacy. Our hips were rolling in a slow rhythm, gradually quickening when our kisses became more heated.

We came like that, shooting off in our underwear with our lips still connected. Carlos's fingernails dug into my shoulders, and I felt every muscle in my body tense as I succumbed to release. It was the single most gratifying orgasm of my life, and from the lazy tongue-kiss that followed our peak, I could tell Carlos was just as entranced.

For the next two months, kissing became a huge part of our routine. Before we got into the swing of things, and were jerking each other off furiously, our lips came together over and over. Of course, I had always enjoyed our spur of the moment, hormone-driven moments in public, but being able to kiss Carlos until I was forced to pull away and catch my breath gave me intimacy I hadn't even known I wanted. But now I did, and that Christmas, I told Carlos.

Actually, I gave him a soccer jersey, and signed the card "Love, Colby." I had practiced for weeks, but the word "boyfriend" left a weird taste in my mouth. There was no way that I could commit to holding hands in public, acting all lovey-dovey, and stuff. The other guys in high school would eat us alive. But I knew that I wanted to be closer to Carlos, to share more in private, just the two of us away from the rest of the world.

Of course, he didn't think anything of the way I signed the card. We had been friends forever, so it didn't seem that out of the ordinary to use the word "love." I grabbed the card and wrote "boyfriend" so small that he could barely read it, but I knew it was legible because his facial expression changed in an instant.

I had never been so terrified in my life. My head was spinning, and I was sure that I had just ruined our friendship, and on the best holiday of the year no less. Carlos didn't say anything, but he leaned forward and kissed me.

Since the Halloween party, I was always the one who initiated our kisses. Carlos kissed back, but this was the first time that he made the first move, and the simple action let me know his answer.

We made out in my room, holding hands as we kissed so much and so aggressively that we needed chapstick. I blushed when Carlos squeezed my hand, then noticed that he looked really shy. It was completely out of character, and seeing him so vulnerable made me flush even harder. Who else but me was allowed to see Carlos like this?

"Let's do it," he whispered so quietly that I thought I must have misheard him.

This was a lot more than just jerking each other and making out until our lips felt sore. My first instinct was to refuse, to take things slower. I didn't want every intimate moment to be connected something sexual. But then I thought about what this must have meant to Carlos. If he was willing to go there with me, then he must have really thought I was special. And that was definitely the way I felt about him. That wouldn't ever change, so what was the point of waiting?

I lay Carlos down on my bed and pulled off his shirt, letting my hands trace open shapes across his chest. He was really starting to pack on muscle, and I had felt the results with my own hands before, but with the promise of much more to happen, it felt like I was discovering Carlos's body for the first time all over again.

My fingers splayed across his abs, feeling them tense beneath my fingers, and he giggled softly when I ran my index finger around the circumference of his navel. Carlos had the most amazing smile, the kind that could make even the crappiest day enjoyable in an instant.

He moaned my name when I leaned down and took his left nipple into my mouth, slurping and sucking on it obnoxiously and loudly. I didn't know what I was doing, going purely on instinct, and trying to memorize what made Carlos feel good. His abs were definitely a sensitive spot, so I lavished those firm muscles with attention. I traced my tongue along the lines that separated Carlos's abs, then pressed open-mouthed kisses to each one.

"Hurry up, already," Carlos whined.

I couldn't resist teasing him a little more, grabbing between his legs and squeezing his hard dick through his jeans, before finally relieving him of the need to be stripped.

His pants and briefs fell off the bed, and I took Carlos's dick in my hand. It throbbed in my palm, and pre-cum came surging from the flared tip. Carlos was about four and half inches, and my hand had known every inch of this cock. I had held it from every angle imaginable, felt it convulse as cum shot from the tip, but this was the first time I would took Carlos into my mouth.

When Carlos cried out and thrust into my mouth, my gag reflex reacted and I pulled off to catch my breath.

"Sorry, I didn't know you were gonna do that," Carlos said. "Do you want me to do it to you too?"

I couldn't have gotten my clothes off faster. We on the bed, our faces at each other's crotches. I shivered when I felt Carlos's hot breath on my dick, and grabbed my bed sheets when he gave my cockhead a tentative lick. Carlos's enthusiasm was constantly overflowing during our handjob sessions, and when we made out, but he was taking his time with this one, kissing and licking up and down my dick. And my balls. My eyes rolled to the back of my head when Carlos sucked on my balls. I could barely think straight.

It was awkward trying to suck on each other, our inexperience stopping us from really sucking each other off the way I pictured it. I assumed that, just like kissing, it would be something that would come naturally, but this was definitely going to take practice. That was fine. I knew Carlos and I had all the time in the world to get better. And even with our lack of skill, Carlos's mouth felt incredible on my dick, and he seemed to enjoy it just as much.

Taking out my lube from under my bed, I squirted way too much on my fingers. Too much was better than not enough, right? Carlos spread his legs and looked at me with so much want that I had to steady myself from jabbing two fingers into his hole until I assaulted his prostate.

I gently massaged the area, stretching his pucker with both thumbs until it looked a little looser. When the first finger went in, he bit down on his bottom lip so hard that I thought he was going to draw blood. Quickly, I withdrew my finger.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"You looked like you just got kicked in the nuts. I'm not doing that again."

"I've handled a lot worse. I just wasn't used to it. Try it again, and don't pull out again."

The commanding tone in Carlos's voice and the look on his face were familiar. Carlos hated to lose at anything, and it was clear that he was taking this as a challenge. I eased my middle finger back into him, using my free hand to stroke his dick as a distraction. I paused when Carlos tensed, but I followed his orders, and continued pushing just a little deeper, stretching him a little further. Carlos sighed and spread his legs.

This was wild. Carlos was crazy tight, especially when I added a second finger, but I could feel those inner walls gradually softening, allowing me entry. I curled my fingers, and Carlos's hips shot off the bed.

"I'm cumming!"

I let go off his dick, trying to hold off his orgasm, but it was too late. Lying against those marble abs, Carlos's dick throbbed and spurted his thick seed across his stomach. His inner walls rhythmically clenched my fingers, which only turned me on even more. Just the idea of having my dick inside that tight space had me on edge.

Carlos's orgasm ended just as I pushed inside him, my wet hands on his thighs, which I used as leverage. Somehow resisting the urge to jackhammer his hole with aggressive thrusts, I maintained a ready pace that had Carlos moaning as if his brain had exploded.

"Faster,"

My pace gradually quickened, matching Carlos's orders of "harder, faster, more." By the time I was thrusting so hard that my balls were slapping against Carlos's perfect butt, he was making a series of unintelligible sounds.

I wanted to last a lot longer than I did, but I couldn't help myself. With Carlos looking so sexy under me, and his hole squeezing my dick so tightly, my body was acting of its own free will, and I was cumming. It felt like I would never stop, Carlos's hole milking every last drop my balls had to give, before I collapsed on top of him, and we were panting for breath.

"Told you I could handle it," he said.

My head was resting on his shoulder, but I knew that Carlos was smiling.

During our high school years, we were closer than ever, and had developed the perfect rhythm. We had a lot of the same classes, our general requirements often matching up, which meant that we studied together a lot. This was after soccer practice, because we both made the teams all four years. Carlos was even captain of the Junior Varsity team during sophomore year. And in the night, we found ourselves in one of our beds, kissing and touching, nowhere off limits for our hands.

We had sex pretty regularly, and after an awkward attempt at Carlos putting it inside me, we both agreed that it suited our rhythm better when I was thrusting inside him. But we weren't just fuck buddies, or friends with benefits, or whatever you wanted to call it. We were boyfriends.

Our relationship was a secret, from everyone, including our parents, which meant our dates were confined to our rooms. Maybe the living room if one of our parents were gone. But that meant we worked extra hard to make our alone time special. One time in the tenth grade, Carlos filled the bathroom with candles, and we fed each other vanilla cake in the bathtub. It was the most romantic gesture I could imagine. It almost didn't feel real, like this was a really long dream and I would wake up.

College. That was the reality check that neither of us wanted. We planned to go to the same college, doing our applications together and looking over each other's essays to ensure we could get accepted together. We already knew how things would go. We would be roommates, join the soccer team, and I hoped that maybe we could go public in a place where people were generally more accepting.

But all of that came crashing down when I got into our first choice college, and Carlos didn't.

"You can't let other people choose your life." That was what my dad said when I talked about going to a different school so I could be with Carlos.

I was furious when he told me that I didn't have a choice in the matter, not because I felt like he was controlling me, but because as much as I hated to leave Carlos, I really did want to go to Eastmaple. It was my first choice for a lot of reasons, and with the soccer scholarship they offered me, I would have been an idiot to turn it down. So I accepted their offer, and Carlos went to our third choice school.

There was no fits of unspoken jealousy that made Carlos pull away from me, or guilt on my part that made me pity him. The summer after high school, Carlos went to a week-long summer program at his new college, and after he came back, our rhythm just wasn't the same.

He made a lot of new friends, and we stopped spending as much time together. With a scholarship on the line, I threw myself into soccer, and developed a workout regimen that I could maintain in college. Sometimes, we didn't talk, not even on the phone or with Facebook. It wasn't like we were trying to get away from each other. It just sort of happened.

But on the last day before Carlos headed off to college, I cried. I wasn't really much of a crier, and the whole moment got significantly sappier, which Carlos called me out on. And even though we could see each other during winter vacation, there was a permanence in not seeing each other. If we were busy now, it would be even harder when we got to our schools. Carlos promised we would stay in touch, but was Facebook really going to be enough?

It turns out that we never really got the chance to find out. Naturally, we exchanged messages after the first day of classes, and skyped about our new roommates, and classes, but by the third week, our conversations had nearly come to a close.

When I sent him a message, he responded with curt answers, or eventually, not at all. It was the worst feeling in the world to know that my best friend, and boyfriend, had drifted so far apart from me that he wouldn't even answer a simple "hey, what's up?" I guess it was safe to say that by the first month, I was single, and Carlos just wasn't interested in keeping whatever we had up.

I tried not to take it personally. It wasn't like he was plotting to avoid me. It just sort of happened. People faded from each other's lives, and I had to accept it. Didn't make it hurt any less, though.

I decided not to put myself through that again. I chose to flirt with girls.

A lot of girls, any girl that would give me a second glance. Not in a desperate way like some of the guys I saw around campus, but in a friendly way. I made them laugh, and they giggled or looked me up and down, because all my time in the gym during summer was really starting to pay off. I wasn't the handsomest guy on campus, but I had my share of admirers, and I let them do just that, admire me. Being with a girl had to be less complicated than being with a guy, so I just let whatever happen.

But there was one guy on campus that threatened to ruin my momentum: Trevor Ballad.

He was the kind of guy who kept to himself, didn't have a lot of friends. He sat alone in the library, and didn't ate lunch alone in the dining hall, earbuds plugged into his ears so that he was completely separated from the rest of the world. I wasn't sure if he wanted to be left alone, or if he was just painfully shy. There was something about him though that I was drawn to. He was cute.

And with that realization, I was panicking. I didn't want to go through all of that again. I stepped up my flirting game with girls even more, and even kissed my fair share of them, all within the span of a couple months. By the end of the first semester, I had made out with ten girls. But I never went any farther than that. I couldn't bring myself to.

Lee lived in my dorm, and we bonded over math troubles. We were in the same class, though at different times, but we were both stumped by the course. I found him in the lounge at one in the morning, erasing his paper so hard that he nearly tore it. When I saw the math textbook, I understood his frustration, and took a seat next to him.

"I have a spare bullet if you need it tomorrow after the test," I said.

He chuckled. "This stuff is impossible. There's no way I'm absorbing any of this."

"I've already given up. If I don't know it now, I might as well save myself the stress, and take the failing grade."

"Sounds like a good approach. But my dad will kill me if I fail this class, so I'm going to force this stuff into my head even if it doesn't want it."

"At least take a break. I don't want you blowing a fuse."

We took a walk around campus in the middle of the night, talking about all of the typical introductory stuff. Of course, I left out anything having to do with Carlos. It felt good to talk to another guy like this. Even though this was our first conversation, there was a sense of ease that I never thought I would have again, not like the one I had with Carlos. Lee and I just clicked. We ended up talking for two hours.

The next day, Lee got a B on his math test. I got a D. We both did better than we expected.

"I think Trevor's cute."

It took months for me to work up the courage to not only tell Lee, but to accept it myself. He didn't know who Trevor was, so the moment wasn't as polished and dramatic as I thought it would be, but he was accepting all the same. Lee was definitely the best thing about college.

We actually jerked off together for the first time during Thanksgiving break. I wasn't quite sure how it happened. We were both horny and in the same room, I guess. He was walking down the dorm hall in nothing but a white tank top and matching briefs. I was rock hard before I realized, which was more than obvious considering I was just wearing briefs too.

"My roommate went home for break," he said after a couple moments of silence.

I didn't know what he was trying to say at first, but once I got his offer, I felt dizzy. But just as quickly as my nerves were enflamed, I calmed myself down. This wasn't going to be a repeat of everything with Carlos unless I allowed it too. I was more mature now. I could handle a jerk off session with a friend.

We didn't touch each other, though we did look. There was no porn, or any outside distraction: just the two of us in the dark, sitting on Lee's bed and jerking off. It felt good to just let everything go. My thoughts circled around Lee's body, which was insanely developed from swimming, Trevor, and this other guy, Dylan, who I met in the library last month. He and I had started hanging out recently. I didn't have feelings for him or anything, just like I didn't feel anything for Lee. But I couldn't deny that they both had great bodies. It was Trevor's lips I imagined kissing when my muscles tensed, and I came all over my stomach and Lee's bed.

Dylan knew all about my fascination with Trevor, and when he said he had the perfect opportunity, I wasn't sure whether to hug him, or throw up. Apparently, Trevor was a math tutor, and considering my grades were about to send me to summer school, I took Dylan up on his offer to try the whole tutoring thing.

I kind of gave Trevor a hard time, partly because the math stuff just wasn't clicking, and partly because I was trying to be friendly. He clearly wasn't the kind of guy I could just put my arm around, and become instant friends with—we needed to ease into things. So that's why I had Dylan test the waters. If anybody could get Trevor to loosen up, it was him.

A foot fetish. Trevor had a foot fetish. I didn't know why I found that so hot. But when Dylan told me about what had happened with Trevor, I beat off imagining Trevor's tongue between my toes, across my feet. I actually shot all over my own feet, and licked up my cum, sucking on my big toe, and replacing my tongue with Trevor's in my mind.

It was an erotic experience that had every inch of my body craving more. And that was exactly what I got. Getting my toes sucked, touching Trevor, and fucking him...it was all crazy. And with Lee and Dylan there too, I came so hard that I thought I was going to pass out.

A foursome in my second semester of college? What would Carlos have said?

I couldn't say that it didn't bother me, because every now and then, I did think about him, and I still didn't understand how people as close as we were could ever drift apart. Still, it was hard to be bummed out about the past when I woke up to Trevor, who managed to look even cuter with bed-head.

I enjoyed going a little deeper into Colby's character, giving him a little more dimension.

It may not be brimming with a lot of sexy scenes like the first chapter, but I hope there was some hotness to be enjoyed.

The next chapter will be Lee's, and will go back to explore his life as well. And there will be more hot scenes, I promise.

Again, please direct all comments to writingaloud07@gmail.com.

Thanks again, and see you soon with the next story!