College Reunion

"Mike?"

The voice was unmistakable. It was fairly deep, masculine and although he tried to make it sound like he was surprised to see me; we both knew we wouldn't miss our five-year college reunion. Especially knowing that each other would be there.

"Hey. Stan. How's my favorite college roommate?" I said.

"Mike, I don't know how to take that seeing as how I was your only college roommate." He grinned while reaching out his hand for a firm handshake. I finished drying my hands and took his hand, then leaned in for one of those manly hugs even if it was kind of odd greeting another guy in a hotel bathroom.

As we briefly, and maybe a little awkwardly, embraced; Stan patted me on the back and chuckled that nervous little laugh that only I would recognize.

They say smells incite the most intense memories. If that is true then it was his cologne that drifted through my nostrils and rekindled the emotions that still smoldered from our years in college.

Stan and I had been roommates for sure. We had been no different than any other college jocks and were physical education majors. But the last year of college we had somehow discovered the joys of...oh, some would call it college explorations of sexual identity but it was pure, unadulterated mansex. Although I figured after five years one of us would either be fat, married or uninterested in mansex now.

I think it had started as some kind of dare, but before we knew it, we fucked each other throughout our last year of college. Oh, we still dated girls and never admitted we were attracted to each other, let alone were fucking each other. I guess you could say we were in the closet and it was our little secret.

Nevertheless, that had been some of the most intense sex of my life. I hate to admit it, but I had never experienced anything with a woman as sensual and erotic as sex with Stan that year.

"I expected to see you later when everyone arrives." Stan said.

"Well, they said my room wasn't ready yet, so I just popped in to freshen up a bit."

"Me too. How 'bout some coffee while we wait?"

It seemed we had both showed up a little too early and catching up would be great. Even though our rooms were probably ready by the time we freshened up, Stan and I spent the next couple of hours filling each other in on the past few years in which we hadn't spoken very much. I guess the miles apart and busy careers had taken its toil on our friendship. I hoped it was the distance and busy schedules and not the fact that the last year together was so intense it had burned up whatever sexual fuel we had for each other.

He had a short marriage that was so short it ended in an annulment. As for me, I had a few girlfriends off and on but my work kept me on the road too much to settle down very long.

During those years I had certainly thought about Stan on occasion, but quickly drowned the thought in whatever pussy I could find. I had written off the year Stan and I were fucking as foolish college experimentation, I guess. So maybe that was it. We were just too scared to call each other for fear of what might be next.

But now that I was here with him some familiar feelings rushed through my veins. He taught Physical Education at a community college and certainly kept in shape. His biceps seemed to bulge through his shirt even more than I remembered and matched the ripples in his chest and abdomen that etched into a tight shirt tucked into his narrow waist. I could imagine that his ass was still as firm as ever.

My job required me to stay in shape as a representative for the maker of physical fitness equipment. So my fears that one of us would now be fat or married were unfounded. But I still wondered if Mike held the same ember of lust for mansex that still smoldered within me, because during our two-hour conversation there was no hint of that last year in college.

Realizing our classmates would be arriving soon; Stan and I retired to our separate rooms and agreed to meet at the reunion.

It would be a weekend event as there was a homecoming football game the next day, so I settled in to the room, showered and dressed for the first reunion event down in the ballroom.

When I arrived I could see Stan already chatting with former classmates. It took about an hour before we finally met at the bar to continue catching up, which started out by comparing what we had learned about our classmates; who worked where, who was married to whom, that sort of thing.

Then there was silence. Oh, the music played in the background, folks chatted nearby, but we both realized we had discussed pretty much everything two old roommates could catch up on. I guess we both knew we were avoiding the topic we both wondered about most.

Stan sipped his drink and looked around. He then took a deep breath. "So, Mike...how's it hanging these days?"

Finally. I now could relax and didn't have to wonder anymore, although I could tell Stan was still terrified, probably wondering how I would answer that seemingly innocuous question.

Since we both were college athletes, there was no way we could ever risk anyone knowing that we were fucking each other. It was something that just wasn't allowed in the locker room. So Stan and I had a code. If we were thinking about sex with each other, then we'd just ask, "how's it hanging?" Guys said stuff like that all the time. But with Stan and I, the phrase had a deeper meaning.

If one of us had a date with a girl or something and couldn't fuck right then, we'd just respond that it was hanging left today and then explain why. But if we were ready for some hot mansex then we'd respond that it was hanging right and just ask where, which was usually in our dorm room.

Stan looked around the room again. I imagined he half expected me to tell him it was hanging left then give him some excuse. He wouldn't have asked if he didn't still feel the same way that I felt. The code gave him an easy way to ask though. I wish I had thought of it. Apparently, the embers burned within him as well. At least, I hoped.

"How's yours been hanging, Stan?" I asked.

"I asked you first." He said.

"I mean have you been, you know, hanging with anyone else since college?" I guess I just had to know. I have no idea why. Afterall, that could be a reason for our distance these past few years.

"Nope. You?"

"Just that last year in college. Me and you. I take it neither of us has taken the plunge since then?" I said.

"Appears that way. So, how is it hanging?"

I smiled. Sipped my drink. I too then looked around. "Well, I'm glad you asked Stan. It's been hanging right for a long time now. I guess just waiting on you. Where do you think?"

Stan set his drink down then tilted his head for me to follow. We nodded and shook a few hands as we left. We said nothing. Not even in the elevator, which stopped on Stan's floor. I looked over and saw a bulge already building in Stan's pants. It matched my own.

I followed Stan to his room. He unlocked it and I went in first and heard him lock the door behind us. Before I could turn around I felt his arms slip around my waist from behind. His breath tickled my neck, which I tilted to the side to receive the kiss he placed there then pulled me close to his body.

The bulge in his pants that I had glimpsed on the elevator pushed into the backside of my own trousers. I reached one hand behind me and grasped his hip to pull him closer into my buttocks as he continued to plant another kiss on my neck.

He lowered his hand to my own bulge. It felt good having his strong hand cup my manhood again. I melted into him.

He started to grind his crotch into me. I pressed my ass briefly against him then turned to face him just inches from his blonde hair, blue eyes, his full lips, chiseled face and square jaw. It was the same as in college. I never looked at a man in the way I saw Stan.

We searched each other's eyes. His strong hands wrapped further around my waist. One hand rested on the small of my back, the other on the cheek of my ass. I draped my arms over his shoulders, touched his face then ran my fingers through his hair. We breathed each other's breath.

The distance soon began to close between our lips. Our breath mingled and then it happened all over again. Our lips met and it was as if time had stood still for five years and we were in our college dorm again.

The kiss transcended time. No longer boys, but two muscular men who longed for that feeling again that we both knew so well; the feeling that bonded us.

Although we were more mature now, in many ways we were virgins all over again. In college, I could have described how we slowly peeled each layer of clothing off the other and caressed the curvature of our muscles. We would light candles and bask in the flickering shadows cast by the flame as we admired each others toned body which revealed itself one piece of clothing at a time.

But now in our desire to explore each other all over again our clothes seemed to disappear and I don't remember how.

One moment our lips were pressed against the other, our tongues searching for its mate then twirling around and round in a forbidden dance of lust. Then the next moment we were frantically striping off our clothes in between kisses.

When our lips parted to catch our breath I realized we had torn the clothes from each other and they were scattered about on the floor in disarray. We couldn't have been in that hotel room for more than a couple of minutes. But we were naked.

I rested my hands on his shoulders as we breathed deeply. My eyes danced over his body. I had forgotten how beautiful his nakedness was to my senses. His pectorals rose like mountains from his chest then narrowed toward rippling muscles that formed a washboard over his abdomen.

His thighs were toned. His ass was as tight and firm as I had remembered. But what I desired most was the firm phalanx of his dick, which towered in front of it all.

The female body is something to behold, for sure. Women are soft, sensual and desirable and their movements are clearly erotic. But there was something about the male form that creates a paradox of sorts.

It's firm, yet soft; powerful, yet vulnerable. And two men naked, desiring each other, was something so taboo that it is incredibly exciting. A man yielding his body to another man has its own sense of mystery, wrapped in the forbidden, which creates terribly strong emotions. It's indescribable but wickedly wonderful.

Upon seeing the forbidden phalanx, I slowly sank to my knees as if bowing before it. My hands drifted down his back, past his waist and settled on each cheek of his tight ass as my knees rested on the carpeted floor.

The tip of Stan's dick glistened. I kissed it. It was sweet and sticky. I sucked gently hoping for more. I then touched his shaft with my hand. Although it was hard and stiff, I had forgotten how velvety smooth another man's dick felt.

Stan moaned softly as I stroked it, and then guided it toward my lips. The smooth head of his dick met my lips then glided over the rim. Slowly I sucked his shaft over my tongue and began to suck and lick hungrily.

Stan moaned above me. It had been five years since we last made love to each other and apparently neither of us had been with another man since that time. Oh sure, at first we just fucked those first few times in college. But before long our sex was more than just a fuck to feed lustful cravings. We actually realized how sensual the sex could be when we freed ourselves of our egos and submitted our masculinity to each other. Yes, we had learned to make love to another man or at least just each other.

Making love to a woman was one thing. But there is a clear masculine and feminine role that occurs during heterosexual sex. Stan and I learned that making love to another man forced both to fulfill both masculine and feminine roles, if you will. In that sense, the sex was more open, more vulnerable and terribly intense. There were no games between us, no pretense. We could truly let ourselves go.

Men somehow submit much more of their ego and masculinity, I guess, with another man. This doesn't make them weaker or less of a man. On the contrary, it creates a sensuality and honesty that can be hidden when making love to a woman; if that makes sense. We might hide some kinky thoughts or fantasies with a girlfriend but not each other, for example, nor did we feel we needed to somehow be macho when we were together.

Men simply project both aspects of their sensuality with another man. There is no truer lovemaking than when one submits their body to another and clearly two men fully submit themselves when making love to one another. At least, Stan and I did. It was as if sex with women was...well, sex; but Stan and I had nothing to prove to each other, nothing to hide and therefore...we made love.

I sucked and licked his dick as my knees ground into the soft carpet. Stan slowly rocked his hips toward my lips. I could feel his buttocks tense with each gentle sway as he slowly fucked my mouth. His ass was smooth and the backs of his thighs felt tight and toned. I could feel the definition of each muscle.

Occasionally, I would stop long enough to suck his balls, which were slowly tensing as they dangled between his legs. It was during one of those moments that Stan pulled me back to my feet to kiss me.

The kiss was brief.

"Damn, I had forgotten how good that felt." Stan said. His words were breathless.

"Me too." I said and kissed him deeply.

Stan soon pushed me onto the bed. I got comfortable in the middle of the mattress and watched Stan's eyes dance over my naked body as he stood at the foot of the bed watching me settle into place on my back, admiring his body. He seemed to drink my body in as well.

He stroked his dick a few times then crawled between my legs and started to suck my own throbbing shaft. His mouth was warm as the wetness from within his lips engulfed me.

I ran my fingers through his hair and lifted my hips to meet his sucking motion and the slow bob of his head. I then tossed my own head back and looked at the ceiling as my mind began to swim.

I couldn't help but wonder how long I could last. The rush of feelings to my brain was overwhelming. My breath grew shorter and my heart raced. I looked down as Stan continued to slide his lips over the shaft of my dick.; in and out, slippery from his saliva.

"Stan." I finally uttered.

I heard a moan in return.

"Stan." I said again.

Stan lifted his face from my groin and looked up at me. I didn't want him to stop but the brief respite was actually a welcome relief nonetheless. He continued to slowly stroke my dick.

"You okay, Mike?"

"Did you bring some lube?" I asked.

Stan didn't answer at first. He just kissed his way up my abdomen stopping briefly to suck my nipples. It was something a woman had never done and it made my skin tingle.

After a few tentatively licks and sucks to my erect masculine nipples, he then slid fully on top of me until we were face to face, our dicks and flesh pressing against each other.

"Lube?" He said.

"Well, since we've come this far, you know." I said running my hand across his cheek.

"I was kind of hoping we'd get this far myself." Stan said as he reached over and opened the nightstand drawer then dropped a tube of love oil on the bed beside us. I looked into his eyes and saw my reflection. We just lay there. He leaned closer and we kissed, just lightly. My tongue flickered out to meet his lips. Our chests rose and fell rhythmically as our breathing deepened. My asshole actually quivered with anticipation and I felt our dicks twitch against the other.

"It's been so long." Stan finally whispered. I brushed his cheek with my hand then ran my fingers through his hair again.

"Too long." I said, my voice barely audible.

"I've dreamed about us everyday since college." He rubbed his hand across my chest.

"You missed it?"

"Yes."

"You've never thought of fucking someone else; another man maybe?"

"Never. You?"

"Are you kidding? There's no way I could fuck anyone else." I said.

"It wouldn't seem right, would it?"

"No. For some reason, making love to just any man isn't exciting for me."

"Same here." Stan said then kissed me again. I wrapped my arms around my lover and plunged my tongue into his mouth. Our tongues found each other and they swirled and writhed around and round.

My chest burned not only from lust but the wonderment of whether we were actually attracted only to each other. I always rationalized I wasn't gay because I wasn't really attracted to men; but I was attracted to Stan. It made no sense.

I slowly slide my hand down his back until I found the cheek of his ass. I squeezed the firm mound and he pushed his pelvis against my dick. I responded by spreading my legs slightly as he slowly dry humped my groin.

Our kiss grew deeper. My hand inched its way toward the center of his ass, and then parted his cheeks. My fingers began probing for his asshole. Soon my middle finger found its prize and started massaging and circling his puckered hole.

Stan moaned softly into my mouth. I sensed him reaching for the lube on the bed and felt him shift his body to one side. I heard a click as he flipped open the tube and squirted a glob on his fingers as we continued to kiss.

He broke off our kiss and then shifted more to one side and lowered his arm. His hand glistened with lube on his fingertips. I saw it disappear below my scrotum and between my legs.

The lube was cool as it squished against my asshole. Our eyes met and lustful smiles spread across our face. Stan pushed a slick finger against my asshole. I relaxed and spread my legs slightly until my sphincter relented. It had been five years since my ass had been violated. I felt like a virgin, my pelvis tingling with excitement.

He finger fucked me slowly until my ass was well relaxed and lubed. He sucked my nipple teasingly then kissed me again. My heart beat faster and my breathing quickened. Our lips barely touched. We teased each other with our lips, his were luscious and tickled my own with moist, very light touches and gentle flicks of searching tongues that flickered in and out to meet the other.

"Stan." I whispered onto his lips.

"Mike." He said.

"Fuck me."

Time seemed to slow down at that point. Stan slid between my legs and knelt there long enough to squirt lube on his throbbing dick. I spread my legs further in order to fully expose myself to him and raised my hips slightly in anticipation for what came next as he prepared to replace his finger with his dick.

Stan grasped himself by his taunt dick. We were both about the same size in length having measured them in college. Neither of us had seemed to change much. We both were still over average in size with bulging veins now in search of relief.

He positioned the head of his dick against my puckered asshole. I held my breath briefly and relaxed. I could feel my ass quiver. He applied pressure. His flesh melded against mine. I relaxed more as he pushed his pelvis forward slightly. I raised mine to meet his.

Then I felt it. It was a familiar sensation that I hadn't felt in a long time. But I had imagined it over and over in my dreams.

It was the smooth glide of the head of Stan's dick that gradually pried open my ass and ever so slowly inched it's way into me. It was this moment that was so exhilarating. My flesh molding over his and engulfing him, while he penetrated my most private sanctum.

Like a yawn, my asshole widened until the sphincter inched over the rim of Stan's dickhead. With a subtle pop he entered me. I gasped slightly and tossed my head back. My mind reeled. The room seemed to momentarily spin. Stan was inside me and I felt as if my chest would explode. At that moment I gave myself to him all over again.