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Fraternity Love (mm)
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Subject: Frat Love (M/M)
Date: Sun, 23 Jul 1995 06:52:33 UTC
Fraternity love
I had never had a problem in the woman department. In fact,
the reason the house rushed me so hard when I was a freshman was
that I was a "face man"--a guy whose looks attracted women, and
prestige, to a house. Not a gq model, mind you, but all-around
american good-looking. Blond hair, deep-set green eyes that had
always drawn second looks from girls, and sometimes and this always
surprised me--guys, and solid muscle built up through years of
working out for high school football and wrestling. A layer of
golden hair so thick it almost hides the big pecs and iron-hard
stomach. Six-two, and a smile that the sexy mother of one of my
buddies once said could light up a dark room at midnight. She
should know.
And I certainly didn't think of myself as gay--then or now.
I'd participated in the usual group gropes with other guys as a
teenager. And once, under the influence of too many six-packs, it
even reached the circle-jerk stage. But, for the most part,
whenever my mast rose--and it has always done that several times a
day--the target had pert little breasts, lithe and lovely and
definitely hairless legs, and was 100 percent female.
Which is why, when Tony moved into the house, I was puzzled
by my feelings, feelings I'd never had toward a guy. Tony was an
italian from jersey, at college on a basketball scholarship. But
at six-four and with 240 tightly packed pounds, he looked more like
a football player. He, too, was a face man. Greyish blue eyes
framed by long black lashes. A chin out to there. A razor
straight nose. Generous lips that always looked as if they were
about to smile, or to sneer. He was a knockout, one who had girls
calling him at all hours of the day and night. Like me, he never
lacked for an enthusiastic sexual partner.
Tony and I quickly became good buddies. Something about the
attraction of opposites. His swarthy good looks and aggressive
manner and my sunbleached blond, surfer boy attitude. His rough
jersey accent and my laid-back valley boy talk. Chemistry. Just
like when you really fall for a girl. In fact, in the weeks after
the first semester he showed up, we were together so much the other
brothers started calling us Starsky and Hutch. Some of the cruder
brothers had a more creative way of phrasing it, as in: "So which
of you girls is the sucker and which the suckee?" Or: "How do you
like sucking that italian meat," Sean baby? No problem. Both Tony
and I had a reputation for scoring with the ladies, so we weren't
exactly afraid of getting an image as lavender lads.
I even dug the way Tony smelled, though I didn't think
anything of it the first time I noticed, consciously, what he
smelled like. Just chemistry, just like the way I liked the look
in those killer light blue eyes, and the way his laugh, coming from
deep in his belly, would practically rock the room when he found
something really funny. So I didn't think it strange that I liked
his smell--a clean, just-soaped smell but with just a faint tinge
of something acrid, something animal-like. It was just that I
liked him. Buddies. A male-bonding sort of thing, as they said in
the marriage and family textbook for one of my sociology courses.
As I think back now, of course, I realize I should have seen
it coming. The times playing racquetball, when I caught myself
looking at the sweaty, black silky hairs in his arm pits as he
reached for an overhead shot. The times our arms would
accidentally brush and I'd feel his long arm hair play over mine,
and it felt like static electricity, or maybe something more. The
times when he'd be sitting in my room on the bed, his legs splayed
unselfconsciously out, looking at penthouse babes, and I'd sneak a
look at his crotch and could see his cock snake up in his sweats
until it made a huge tent.
Once he caught me looking at one of his hard-ons. I was
fascinated by a growing circle of precum that seeped into his
sweats at the top of the tent. When he saw I was staring at it, he
flashed his famous grin at me, his perfect, snow-white teeth
dazzling in the midst of that olive-colored face. And as he smiled
at me, that cocky, challenging smile, he reached down with one
hand, stroked his balls, and grabbed his cock through the dark blue
cloth of the sweats and gave it a few strokes in my direction. And
he said, in that hoarse, jersey accent:
"Sean, if you ain't gonna suck this mothah-fuckah off, I'm
gonna have to pay a fuckin' visit to the little boys' room."
"Fuck you, cock-sucker."
"Promises, promises."
We were both just joking, of course. Just buddy-talk. We
were comfortable enough with ourselves that we could talk that way.
It seemed to ease the tension, somehow--although, whenever I
thought about it, I couldn't figure out what, exactly, there was to
be tense about.
And he laughed his room-shaking laugh and walked into the
bathroom, the tent pole leading the way, and the penthouse clutched
in his hand. As usual around the house, he wasn't wearing a shirt.
I noticed as he walked by that his nipples were as erect as his
cock. Dark red little bullets pointing straight out from the
well-sculpted pecs. The shiny black hair on his chest was shaped
like a t, the thick thatches over the tits narrowing down to a
trail that led under the draw string of the sweats. As he walked
by me, smiling all the way, I caught a whiff of the Tony smell. So
animal like, so sharp, so much Tony, that it seemed to burn my
nostrils.
He didn't bother to close the bathroom door. I could hear
the sound of flesh against flesh, a sound that got faster and
louder. And then Tony's moans. Quiet at first, then louder,
guttural: "unnhh. Unnhh." And then, punctuated by his heavy
breathing:
"Oh, fuck. . . .Oh, shit, take that, babe. . . . Take my big
fat italian cock, you . . . Oh, unnhh. . . .Ahh, fuck." And then
the heavy, long, post-cum sigh.
When he came out, he had that shit-eating grin on again, and
said:
"Sorry, dude. I got some cum on her." And he tossed the
magazine back on the bed.
When he left, I had to stroke my own meat before I could get
back to studying. Fair enough. What bothered me was that when I
shot off, I wasn't thinking about my current girl, like usual. I
was thinking about Tony, waving his dick at me, and about the way
he sounded, that monster, guttural sound as he came, and I was
wondering what his cock, his fat italian cock, would look like when
it was hard.
We never talked about the penthouse incident after that, and
Tony stopped reading penthouse in my room. He would still come in,
though, to shoot the shit after a date or to relax for a few
minutes during an all-nighter. And he'd sit back on the bed in
that same way, legs splayed out, the full crotch pointed my way.
Sometimes I'd give him the same, my legs spread as I sat in my
boxer shorts, feeling my dick lying heavy and hungry against the
chair.
Once I was in just that position, looking over at him lying
back against the pillow on my bed, and scratching my chest as we
were talking, flicking my fingers lightly over a nipple, pulling
the hair on my chest in an absent-minded sort of way, when I felt
my dick start to rise against the smooth cotton of the boxers. I
could feel the head of my dick starting to snake its way out of the
foreskin and nip at the opening of the shorts. There was that
little scratchy feel you get from the friction of exposed cockhead
to cloth.
Tony flicked his long lashes toward my dick, smiled, and
said:
"Somethin' important come up, dude?" And he laughed.
A few nights later, Tony and I went on a double date. After
the movie, we parked on a dark street near the girls' house and
went methodically to work to get laid. Nada. I could tell, from
the sound of Tony's moans in the back seat, and his girl's "no, I
can't, I can't, not yet," that Tony wasn't getting any more than I
was. After a half-hour more of wrestling and "no, no, I can't,"
from front seat and back seat alike, Tony said:
"Oh, shit, let's just go the fuck home then."
He dropped the girls at their house and headed back for our
house, reassuring one another that those two had had their last
chance.
Back in my room, we each belted down a glassful of jack
daniels and started on the refills.
"Man, I got an awesome case of blue balls," Tony said.
"Me, too, pal."
Tony turned his blues on me, blinked those long, black
lashes, and said: "hey, man, I know how we can work some of the
tension off.
Let's wrestle." And he took a long sip of his jack daniels, holding
his gaze on me over the glass, swallowed, his adam's apple bulging
quickly as the liquid went down, and he smiled his smile at me.
"You got it, babe." And I took another belt and waited.
Tony skimmed off his shirt as he stood up, the shirt peeling
back over red nipples, then on past the arm pits with their moist
patches of black silken hair. Whiff of Tony smell. When Tony was
on me, his huge arms reaching under my arms, then around my back
and pulling me back over onto the floor. Before I could resist, he
flipped me over on my back, straddled my legs and half-nelsoned me
to the floor. I squirmed around enough to turn over, but I
couldn't do anything to release the iron grip he had on each of my
wrists. His full length was on top of me, face to face, arm to
arm, his legs over my legs. His cock over my cock. The more I
struggled, the more fiercely he dug his hands into my wrists, the
more insistently his powerful legs held mine. His hot breath
flooded onto my cheeks. Our eyes locked. And then I could see
just the hint of a smile crease the corners of his mouth, as if he
had finally figured out the answer to a puzzle.
"It's all right, babe," he said, his voice guttural and soft
at the same time. "It's all right. Why not?"
And then I was very aware of his cock. His eyes still locked
on mine, his hands still tightly gripping my wrists and holding me
to the floor, he started every so slowly to move his crotch against
mine. I could feel the heat of him all over me, his hairy legs
rubbing against mine, his massive chest pressing into mine, his
crotch pressing into mine. There was this moment of panic as I
thought. Guys don't do this. Not real guys, not men. Men don't
do this. And I could feel Tony's breath again against my cheek,
and see Tony's blue, blue eyes looking straight into mine, and
Tony's furry legs rubbing against the hair on my own legs. And
Tony's crotch, as if it had a life of its own, was becoming more
insistent, and harder, and bigger, as it rubbed against mine,
through the roughness of his 509 cutoffs and mine, and I thought my
cock would split with the hard-on of its life.
And all the time Tony was smiling and looking straight into
my eyes. And he had a look that seemed to say I've found out
something I never knew, and I like it. And then suddenly he wasn't
looking at me anymore, he was pressing his lips on mine and
thrusting his tongue into my mouth, forcing it roughly open and
kissing me with an insistence and a force that I had never
experienced with a girl. And he was holding onto me so hard I
thought he was going to crack my ribs.
He withdrew his tongue and looked at me again. "Whaddaya
say, dude?" And without waiting for an answer, he reached down for
the bottom of my tee-shirt with both hands and, in one motion,
pulled it over my head. He straddled my waist, rubbed the back of
his hairy paws down my arms and into my arm pits, grinding them
slightly so that the hairs there pulled, then trailed them back up
to my nipples, rubbing, grasping, pinching them between thumb and
finger. I am now moaning softly. The hands then on down, tugging
now soft, now hard, at the hair on my chest. When his long, strong
fingers tracing down toward the belly button as he grasps one of
the nipples in his mouth, sucks, tongues, bites it lightly. The
fingers go on down, under my levi's, poking down toward the head of
my cock. (Rough friction of fingers stroking the top, the now naked
top of my cock, then grasping the foreskin and playing it back and
forth between the fingers. Then he's off me, my cock hard, me
confused, lying still. He's smiling still, in charge, sure of what
he's doing, of what we're about to do.
He reaches down, unbuttons my fly, pulls the cut-offs down me
(rough fabric pulling at the dick as it comes down, funny feeling
of cold air hitting dick, pressure of cut-offs against dick, then
dick bouncing back against my belly, harder than I've ever felt it,
free) and off my legs. Sharp intake of breath as he looks down at
me, my cock at full mast. His grin, his white, white grin. Again
he uses the backs of his hands, this time to trace a trail down my
legs, starting just by my balls, down my thighs, all the way to my
feet. And now he's laughing.
"Ah, it's all so fuckin' simple, my friend, all so fuckin'
simple."
And, with one more smile, his head swoops down toward it,
down toward my cock, and Tony's lips nuzzle my monster cock, my
life is in my cock now, Tony's tongue darts out and licks the tip
of my cock, Tony's rough hands pull the foreskin back over the
engorged head, the dark purple head of my cock and then Tony
swallows my cock in a gulp.
I grasp my hands in his full head of black, shiney, curly
hair and massage his head, feel his ears, run my hands down the
back of his neck (a mole, a tiny mole, right there at the back of
the neck, right under the hairline) as Tony sucks me in and out, in
and out. (Warm, sucking wetness of Tony's mouth, Tony's teeth
lightly grazing the rim of my cock head.) I am fucking Tony's
mouth, feeling my balls slap up against his chin, feel the rough
beard as my balls come up against it. I see Tony, his mouth
engorged with my eight inches, press his nose into my blond pubic
hair. He makes soft moaning sounds and slurping sounds as he goes
up and down on my cock.
And then he slowly withdrew from my cock, patted my balls, and,
holding my cock in his fist, gave the tip of it a tender kiss and
lay back down on me. He kissed me again, and I could taste/smell
my own piss and precum, mixed with Tony's smell, and I could feel
his cock now rubbing against mine.
"Sorry, man, I don't wantcha to cum yet. I want us to cum
together. I wanna fuckin' fuck you, Sean." Tony nuzzles my neck,
sucks in a piece of my neck, bites it lightly. I feel like jelly.
"You got anything slippery?"
"K-y," I gasp. "Medicine cabinet." Tony off in a dash to the
backroom. Back in what seems like an instant.
For the first time I get a look at Tony's dick. Bigger than
mine, at least nine inches, and fat. As he applies globs of k-y,
the engorged head works free of the foreskin and looks like a small
apple, stuck on the top of an enormous pole coming out of the black
forest of his crotch. Satisfied with his work, he looks down at me
again, smiles, grabs me on either side and urges me to turn over
onto my stomach.
"I wanna fuck you from behind, like a dog."
I get on all fours. He grabs my ass on either side, slaps
another glob on jelly on my ass, and works a slippery finger into
the hole, then two fingers, in and out, in and out.
"Relax, Sean baby, you're gonna love it."
The fingers come out, and I feel the apple back there,
pushing at the entrance. I wince.
"Just pretend you're takin' a crap, man," Tony grunts and
pushes more insistently. I strain my bowels as if I'm shitting
and, all at once, the apple is inside me. No feeling like that
ever before. Full and warm and as if something more is about to
happen but you don't know what. Feel of Tony on top of me, as if
he's a very heavy, very furry blanket someone has dropped over me.
THen the feel of his breath on my neck, the rough sandpaper of his
beard against my shoulder, the acrid, heavy, animal smell of Tony
making me dizzy. He lunges and his cock seems to split me in two,
come through my insides, as if I can feel it in my mouth, it is so
big and heavy and never have I felt anything like this.
"Oh, babe, this is so good. . . . Oh, man, I've never felt
like this. . .. Ah, fuck. Ah, shit this feels good."
And I feel his cock reaming me, in and out, in and out, and
his hairy balls slapping against mine, and his hot breath against
my neck and he is kissing/biting my neck now, and he reaches one of
his hairy paws around me, grabbing my cock and pulling it up and
down, and I feel my cock is going to burst and my asshole is going
to burst, and his sweat is on my back, sticky, as he fucks me,
harder and harder and...
"Sean, I'm gonna cum, baby, I'm gonna cum inside another man,
for chrisfuckinsake and I love it, Sean I love it, Sean, I love
you, oh, fuck, Sean." And he makes one last, large lunge, and moans
and moans, and at that moment his hand around my cock makes me come
and we collapse in a heap, sweating and kissing each other and
playing in each other's cum so much we don't know whose cum is
whose whose sweat is whose whose body is whose. And we hold each
other.
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