It all began with the letter. A fairly mundane letter at that.
I was going to college at Berkley in California for computer science. I was a bit of a nerd, and though it was my third year of school, I was still a virgin. As I pick up my mail from the student center, I remind myself of that fact and think there must be something I'm doing wrong.
I walk slowly back to the dorm I as read the letter, the only mail I got that day. The letter was from my parents telling me that they were cleaning out the basement, and they found some of my old things, which they were going to send. I take little note of this as I set the letter down on my desk, shed my clothes, grab a towel and toiletries, and take a hot shower.
I had a bit of a gut, and my arms weren't impressive at all. My soft body seemed weak compared to that of the rugby players I always saw practicing on the soccer field on my way to class. All that man-to-man contact raised the attention of my dick every time I saw them being rough with each others, feeling up their buddies' hard bodies, all sweaty with their nipples showing through their tight shirts, their toned arms, their cut pecs, their flat stomachs, and last but not least, their high round asses ready to be penetrated.
I always noticed one young man in particular, Ken Fuller. His body was amazing. He wasn't overbuilt like a bodybuilder, but he was sleek yet powerful, lithe yet defined to a tee. Sometimes, he would play shirtless, and those were the days where I gawked blatantly. His body was fine, and even his face was handsome.
When staring at him while I walked by the field I would start at his head and work my way down. Ken had gorgeous green eyes and a luscious mane of sandy blond hair. He had high cheekbones and a romantically angular jaw. His traps were thick and shapely which only seemed to augment the definition of his perfect pectorals, pert mounds of succulent flesh. His skin was smooth and tanned.
The curves of Ken's pecs met the toned brawn of his biceps. They weren't balloons like on some bodybuilders but were damn pleasing to look at, especially when he flexed to pass the ball or casually for himself. His large hands occasionally caressed the grooves of his abdominals, which were visible even when he relaxed. He had a hot six-pack, a stomach that after a day in the sun, you could doubtlessly cook eggs on. Those hands also often went to his crotch where he found a good-sized bulge, a dick that most women could barely appreciate.
Finally, Ken would bend over in the scrum, and I would hopelessly stare at his apple tush, fleshier at the top than at the bottom. Ken spread his legs and his asshole nearly winked at me. I could see it in my mind as I undressed him. Pink, soft, virgin, inviting. It was asking to be licked and penetrated, its rosy deeps ready to be plumbed, and its moist warm extent to be explored feeling the pleasure of my dick inside him forever.
I shot off in the shower, my erect member reaching almost six inches. Average for an average gay man. I was average in so many ways. Average GPA, average major, average weight, average height, and average intellect. I was just a normal guy.
Though what happened to me next was anything but normal.
The next week I got the package from my parents. I took it back to my room and opened the box. On top were a few sketches of superheroes I had drawn by hand before I discovered graphic art. Beneath them were a well preserved signed copy of the Watchmen graphic novel first edition and a contrastingly tattered copy of 1984. Further down were some alternate histories by my favorite author, Harry Turtledove and some Superman comics. I took a moment as I unpacked to reflect on the mature interests of my childhood.
Finally, at the very bottom was a black and white composition notebook that seemed new but somehow, exuded an old aura, almost wizened, and which I had never seen before. The front cover of the notebook had my name, Alex Colt, on it so it couldn't have belonged to either of my brothers.
My older brother, Adam Colt, shrewdly invested in his own career, had moved to New York. He had gone to Yale and some law school in Manhattan, had recently passed the bar, and got a job at a new but prestigious law firm, founded by several famous attorneys. Last Christmas, he had brought a guy home. That was when I had first realized Adam was gay. I had read somewhere that it was rare for first-born siblings to be gay. That same article had gone on to say that there was a strong possibility that sexuality is not entirely genetic, saying that there could be a time in the second stage of cognitive development when sexuality was formed.
My younger brother, Andy, had gotten into the Ivy League like Adam had, something I had failed to do. He would leave the nest for Penn in the fall. Andy was a great football player, and even if he was gay, he certainly didn't show it. Andy would most likely be the brother to carry on the Colt name, be the legacy our father always wanted.
I almost seethe with jealousy over them both. Our parents must love them more. Adam with his success and Andy with his heterosexuality. I tried to focus on something else.
I picked up the notebook and opened it. At the top of the first page was written in pencil, Alex receives the notebook. On the inside cover of the book, which he noticed second was inscribed: Alex,
May all your dreams come true.
I wondered at the significance of both the name and the first entry.
I've heard of Riddell. It was the first major mental health clinic offering psychological and psychiatric services absolutely free using only the money from some huge private donors. The largest donor was actually anonymous going solely by the surname of Riddell and an email address.
I pondered about how this notebook was connected to all of that. I realized how my own dream journal was almost full. I decided to use the black and white notebook instead. I took a pencil from my desk and placed it with the notebook under my bed.
That night I had a dream about Ken Fuller. I dreamt that he sucked me off, and I fucked him deep in the ass. I woke up when I came for the second time. It was the morning. I remembered the dream so I quickly wrote everything I could remember down in surprising detail in the new black and white composition notebook. I was erect and leaking cum, but I hadn't gotten a lot on my pajamas. Ryan, my roommate, was still sleeping.
Ryan Cooke was as straight as they come. He would watch sports and scratch his beer belly when he wasn't out fucking drunken sluts. He still didn't know I was gay, and I had no intention of telling him unless asked directly. I wouldn't lie, but telling a straight guy you live with that you were gay was a recipe for a lot of awkwardness, especially when it was off topic or unsolicited.
I looked at the clock. It read 7:22 in the morning. I turned off my alarm, which was set for 7:30.
An hour later, I was in class. Fundamental Computer Graphics, a real snooze. I had been doing graphic design for almost seven years now, but it was a requirement for my major. I also had my general education geological science in which we review for a test. Ken Fuller was in that class with me, but he was a kinesiology major. I stared at him only as much as would be allowed without anyone taking notice. After class, Ken approached me out of the blue. We weren't friends, but we were acquaintances.
“Hey, what's up?” Ken greeted me.
“Hey,” I said, “You're gonna study tonight?”
“Yeah, dude. I came over here to ask you if you wanted to study with me tonight. It seems like you really get the material,” Ken explained.
“Sure, 7:00 good for you?”
He responded, “Yeah, you live on campus, right?”
“Yup, 204 Stevens,” I said.
“Okay, see you there,” he said as he walked away.
As soon as Ken was out of the door, I exhaled. That was the most words I had ever said to him in a single conversation. I had been holding my breath because somewhere deep inside of me, I wanted him to like me, to love me, to hold me, to be with me, and be my man. I wanted so much from him, and yet right now, I couldn't feel anything other than lust, sexual desire, and carnal hunger for his Adonis-like body.
I hurried back to my dorm, and I started getting ready. I showered, shaved, brushed my teeth and hair, changed, and put on cologne and deodorant. I turned to look at the clock. It read 11:32AM. It wasn't even lunchtime yet. He wouldn't be here for another seven hours.
Oh, God! What was this guy doing to me? I had already missed my last morning class.
I went to lunch and my afternoon classes. I came back to my room and thought about my eagerness to be involved sexually with Ken.
Though I was ready to lose my virginity, I shouldn't rush it just because I want a new experience. I thought my brother, Adam, had sensed that I was gay for a while now. In one of our more recent conversations, he tried to convince me that casual sex, especially the contrived kind, was a really bad idea and sometimes a death sentence.
I wasn't actually sure if he always took his own advice. Adam had a really bad habit of criticizing someone for something and then turning around and doing that same thing the next time he had an opportunity to. Adam was snobbish, uptight, and most of all, a neat freak. I really understood Adam a lot more than I understood Andy.
Andy did some unexplainable things. For example, when he turned thirteen, he decided he was too old to still be called Andy, and he wanted everyone to call him Andrew. That lasted three days. When Andy turned fifteen, he decided it was time to get a job, and he got one. That lasted three weeks. When Andy turned seventeen, he decided to grow a beard so he wouldn't get carded as often. That lasted three months. I suppose Andy was good at starting things and not so good at the follow-through.
Growing up, I always felt so suppressed by them both. Adam had a great mind, and Andy had so much machismo, so many sports skills, and so little inhibition. Either of them were better than me at everything I did even graphic art. Adam was the first to introduce it to me while he was an undergraduate. Before Adam even got his first degree, he knew three programming languages. Andy was that rare breed of the male sex that could function as both a man's man and a ladies' man. Anything creative or academic, Adam trumped me in. Anything physical or social, Andy was greater.
My obsession with Ken Fuller made me feel even more inferior compared to him. It was almost seven now. Am I ready? Do I look good? I was so blithely unprepared for our encounter in class today. Platonic encounter, I was forced to remind myself.
Someone knocked on the door. I answered.
“Hey, dude,” Ken greeted me. He was dressed very casually.
“You ready to study?” I asked.
“Yeah, I got my book and notes right here,” he said.
“Okay, good,” I said.
So we studied for about twenty minutes. We were still studying when our conversation took a strange turn.
“What two gems are composed of crystal corundum?” I asked him. We hadn't even gotten to the text yet. I was still quizzing him on the notes.
“Sapphire and…” Ken stopped as if trying to remember the other. “I can't remember.”
We were both sitting on my bed, and my roommate was out drinking for the night. “Here's a hint. It's another primary…”
“You look very nice tonight,” Ken said as if suddenly entranced by me.
“…color… Oh, thanks,” I said. “You look nice, too. I love you… your shirt.” Great cover. Now say something related. “Where did you get it?”
“At a store in the Embarcadero,” he said. “So… Are you…? Are you…?” He couldn't quite get out the words.
“Am I… what?” I asked.
“Are you like…? Are you like metro or anything like that?” Ken asked. He came closer to me.
“I'm actually gay,” I said.
“Oh, oh… I see…” he said. He inched closer to me.
“Is that okay with you?” I asked.
“I… I… uh… It's hard to explain.” Ken came even closer to me. Now our lips were merely inches apart. I felt his hot sweet breath on my lips. I looked up at his face and saw his high cheekbones and perfect green eyes. If I wasn't so sexed up from his musk, I probably would have scooted myself away from him a bit as any normal person would because of his response. He said, “I was always much better at show than tell.”
Ken tilted his head and leaned in to kiss me so softly the strong contrast between his ultimate aura of muscle masculinity he projected and the passionate gentleness of his kiss blew my mind. I leaned forward to bring us together, my hands moving around his muscled torso, pressing our mouths together. The kiss was soft at first, tender and warm. Then his strong arms pulled me even closer and the kiss became more passionate, deeper. He opened my mouth to his and pushed his long tongue inside. It felt thick and hot in my mouth, and I kissed him back eagerly, returning the embrace, wrapping him up in my arms, my fingers digging into the Ken's soft silken mane.
The kiss deepened. It was my first time kissing another guy, and my hunger was suddenly swelling. Everything I dreamed of, all my reservations about my own homosexuality, all my desire and denied passion was boiling up inside me, bubbling through my blood. I wanted this never to end, this feeling, the hard embrace, the hot, wet kiss, the feeling of another man's bulging, muscular body pressed against my own, the hard brawn of it, the pure masculine power.
And it didn't end for a very long time as if my desire was the only one being considered. We enjoyed the taste of each other's tongues so much it was almost orgasmic. My boner became painfully stiff so I broke the kiss wanting to take things further. Ken said, “Take off your pants.”
He said, “We should use a condom. I have one.” Ken opened his textbook to reveal a large square cut through the pages in the middle containing a bottle of lube and a pack of condoms.
“Wow,” I said amazed, “You really came prepared.” I noticed the flavored lube. “Ooh, strawberry.”
“I had my eye on you all semester,” Ken said as he removed a condom from the box and I slid off my pants. He looked at my woody, which was obvious through my boxers. “Can I help you with that?” he asked.
“You better.” We exchanged wicked smiles. Ken pushed my underwear down to my ankles so my dick could be released. He gave me the condom, and I hesitated to place it on my boner. “I'm a virgin, you know.”
“I know. Please just wear it.”
“Don't you trust me?” I asked.
“Trust has nothing to do with it. It's about safety,” Ken said.
I quickly placed the condom on my dick. He took my stiff heat into his mouth and sucked my deeply. He lovingly massaged the head with his tongue. He moved his fingers to work on my nipples. I saw the brawn of his arms undulate as he rubbed and sucked me. He moved his left hand to fondle my balls. His hot mouth encompassed my dick entirely. With every breath, I was trembling with pleasure, and I was moaning from his ministrations.
I reached down and put my hands on Ken's shoulders. I felt his traps bulge as he strained to suck me deeper. His shirt rode up a bit, and I could see his first two rows of cut abdominals. He almost had an eight-pack he was so ripped. His waist lats were sharp and wide. I looked back to his biceps and saw them tighten and relax as he rubbed my nipples and massaged my balls. In response to my staring, he immediately threw up a double bicep pose, and they peaked to perfect height.
I came. He took his hot mouth off of my cock. The condom was straining. I ripped it off and threw it onto the floor. My cock was still hard so I said, “Hit me again.”
I'm still hard? I thought to myself. That's kind of strange. That reminds me of my dream. Oh, my God! My dream came true!
Ken put another condom on me. He said as he shed his clothes so quickly I was still stunned about my dream by the time he had finished, “I've never been on the bottom before so hopefully this will be an interesting change of pace for me.” His dick reached the cleft between his rippling pectorals. His erection was long and thick, pulsating and dripping precum.
Ken got onto the bed and raised his ass, ready for me. His asshole looked even more wonderful than I had imagined. The gorgeous eye of his ass winked at me, a rosebud in the Garden of Eden, a virgin hole desperately wanting to me made a whore, a soft entry into ultimate soul filling pleasure for us both.
I put some lube on the condom. I mounted his hard body. My cock head popped inside. His ass was warm, moist and pleasurable. His hole clamped down, contracting around my dick's tip. Ken must have been impatient at my slowness because he moved his ass to swallow my dick whole. I pounded his hungry butt with my angry sex tool. He moaned incessantly. He yelled, “Fuck me harder!”
“I'll try,” I said. I threw my whole body into it. I began to sweat as he tried to help me with the pumping by spreading his legs more and bucking his own hips. We would collide every few seconds sending waves of delectation through us both. The scent of our sweat intermingled with cum and ass to create such an intoxicating stink that it was impossible to think of anything else other than the present encounter even in the most fleeting ways. His asshole continued to contract, its attributes marvelous, miraculous, divine.
I came deep within him. Ken's ass leaked with my cum, overflowing the condom, but he didn't seem to care so deep in ecstasy he was. I fell against him and reached to feel the thick mounds of his pecs and tease his nipples. His massive member suddenly distended and released what seemed like gallons of cum all over my pillow, comforter, and hands as well as his abs and pecs.
We laid there for what seemed like hours enjoying the feel of our naked bodies pressed together. We wanted to savor the experience, let it infuse our minds like it had just infused our bodies. I wanted nothing more than to hold him. I wished that the whole world were in this room, that we would never have to leave each other.
I heard footsteps walk up to the door and someone try the doorknob, but I had locked it. Suddenly, I jumped up from the bed. My roommate was back!
I whispered to Ken, “Quick get under the bed…” As the key entered the knob, Ken rolled off the bed and got under it among my laundry detergent and spare towels. As the key turned, I pushed our clothes under as well and hopped into bed. As the door opened, I pulled the covers over my naked lower body.
Lucky for me, my roommate was very drunk so he didn't notice anything odd. Ryan crashed, and Ken quickly dressed and kissed me goodbye.
A few minutes later, someone called my cell phone though it was past 1:00AM, and none of my friends would call me, only text, and certainly not this late. As I answered the call, I worried that something bad had happened my parents or one of my brothers.
“Hello,” I said.
My older brother Adam's voice came over the phone, “You will not believe what just happened to me…”