Chapter 3: Dorm 1043

Rule #7

Experimentation and exploration are encouraged within reasonable limits, ensuring safety and respect for others, fostering creativity and personal growth.

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For the last few days, whenever I'd been able to catch a moment alone in the dorm -- almost an impossibility with all their stupid fluctuating schedules -- I had tried to beat-off. At first I tried thinking about all the girls I'd wanted to fuck back home. Absolutely no success. Maybe it was because I was surrounded by guys and guys and guys all day long? And the lack of women depressed me?

I really couldn't figure it out.

Even though I'd been trying the opposite, I had now figured more out about my roommates.

They knew my name was Alastair and that I was from Chicago originally; they also knew that I'd flunked out of high school -- to be fair, most of the boys on this campus seemed to have flunked out. That was all I'd let out about myself though; one thing for sure, I was keeping my secrets.

The others? I was pretty sure I knew more about them than they did about me.

There were now nine of us -- the counselors recently having dragged one more set of bunks in, further crowding the space, and then plopping the empty set of beds with two rough looking guys just across from my top bunk. More on these newcomers later.

In his own bunk then, with no person sharing the bed beneath his was 'surfer-boy' Moss Jenkins (yes, what the hell kind of nickname was 'Moss' anyway?). I had expected him to be a rich kid white gangster wanna-be with a beach tan and bleached hair -- mostly he was out of the dorm early before anyone woke and sneaking back into the dorms by the time the rest of us were already sleeping. It took a while to pin him down -- early, when I snuck a peek to watch him get dressed -- I discovered he was a beanpole of a kid. Slender long legs, barely any meat on his stomach and his chest, long willowy arms.

Moss was tan, yes, but just the beginnings of a tan. He was also really tidy and it didn't seem like he was out early/late doing drugs or anything unseemly. Where he went? From the top of my bunk I could periodically see his figure (again, kid was super tall maybe 6'5 or 6'7?) hitting the oceans early morning wake. Other than that, he seemed glued to the media room and all its computers. I guessed he learned better online than from a book.

Next were the twins. Two Hispanic boys with beautiful olive skin and completely different hair styles -- one, Marcos with his sheered military brown hair, and the other, Luca with mid length hair and really straight bangs. Other than those small differences they shared the same 5'8 height, same medium build physique but with insane calf muscles, and wickedly blue eyes. It was hard to tell which one of them was speaking at night sometimes since they were bunked together.

Mostly they spoke English so that everyone could understand -- almost -- what they were talking about in really rapt excited voices. But occasionally, especially when 'lights out' was called for the students -- surprisingly the counselors didn't force a curfew until midnight -- the twins would then whisper in gorgeous strings of Spanish to one another. Of the group, they were the most rambunctious and daring.

Day three of living in the dorms they put a fake spider on Finn -- my bunk mate -- while he was sleeping. His scream and then angry tossing of the plastic arachnid threw the twins into peals of laughter.

They were also loud in classes, loud in the library, loud and chasing each other on the beach or hitting new friends with water balloons outside -- but they were strangely awkward when it came to showering with groups. They often took their shower time around noon while the rest of us were eating and they both looked really uncomfortable when, for instance, they walked in on just me using the communal showers the afternoon after my counseling session. On that day they immediately beelined out of there.

I counted: there were easily 14 more showers they could have used in that locker room.

The very studious bunk with its hung curtains so none of us could see inside, plus its cluttrtrf stand-up desk, belonged to a really small boy, Isaac. At first when I met him I thought for sure he had to be 15 or 16 -- but he was 18 like me and like Finn. He looked way young though.

Maybe it was because he was so shy, or maybe it was because of his nerdy little glasses and the bowl cut that was finally -- thank god for this kid! -- growing out at last. He was really skinny and really pale, wore what looked like a school uniform most of the time, shirt and tie and black jeans or slacks. When they were gossiping once, Finn had said to the twins that he thought Isaac's uniform was probably from an old school he'd attended.

I said nothing; I never joined in on the gossip.

Isaac was usually quiet and when he would talk it was in a very small voice and he'd blush the entire time. His voice was high pitched like he hadn't hit puberty yet and... well yes, I could easily picture him saying 'Daddy' in that nervous/excited voice of his to some buff bear of a man. For some reason Nick's face popped into my head.

Okay... I was ashamed by that. Really, he wasn't too bad a kid, Isaac was just very studious and really awkward most of the time. It always seemed like he might be about to burst into tears. He went out of his way to not accidentally anger anybody. Not that any of us could ever be angry at him.... poor thing.

Finn was a nice guy and had insisted that he and the twins start eating lunch with Isaac so the boy wasn't alone. They'd tried that with me, but every time they sat with their trays I'd just gotten up and left the lunchroom table. Nope, not my thing.

Sharing the bunk above Isaac's was the nature-loving 19-year-old. He was a return student to the program but not 18 like the rest of us. Also, I probably knew the most about his body because... well he never really wore any clothes around the dorm. Sawyer, was a very muscley kid with Russian heritage that he liked to boast about; meaning he was very white and also surprisingly hairy. Not hairy in a bad way, he at least maintained his arm and leg and pit hair. Mostly the hair was just everywhere and very dark, easy to see since he was usually walking around the dorm in his boxers.

When he wasn't in the dorm in his boxers, he was in the dorm butt naked, flaccid cock hanging out. And boy was this kid hung. Like... I'd never seen him hard before, but his flaccid shlong hung at about 5 to 5 1/2 inches.

I wasn't trying to look, but when someone dangled their legs off a bunk and you could see their junk from two rows of beds away... yeah, you did some measuring.

Every morning he got up -- got dressed thankfully, though he was probably sad about the inconvenience -- and popped into basketball shorts and a jersey. Friends would wait for Sawyer outside and they'd discuss animatedly about how many reps they'd do in the gym that morning, or how many laps they could fit into the pool before hitting a study hall.

Sawyer was also very messy, at least with his clothes. His shirts and pants and underwear ended up draped all over the posters of his bed. This happened even though we all had plenty of storage space in the lockers and bottom-bunk drawers.

One time, pretty recently after my counseling session actually, I'd been passing by alone and caught a wiff of one of Sawyer's unattended boxers. Man... I almost swiped those fuckers...

But like... why? Why did that turn me on so much. I felt way too guilty and weird to follow through with the urge. But urges like that stuck with me and lately I could feel them growing.

Our final roommates, the new ones who'd been dragged into the living space went by the names of 'Tuck' and 'Crony-A' -- this was because 'Crony-B' lived in a different dorm on campus.

Tuck pretended to be Mr. Macho.

He was bold in the way he spoke and built like a linebacker. He talked all the time about girl's pussies he'd 'fucked' and how the rest of us had probably never seen a 'juicy cunt' before. When he came into the dorm he threw his weight around and intentionally knocked other people's things off their beds, or one time he picked up one of Sawyers shells and crooned, "Gonna string me a shell necklace like a little girl?"

Tuck was broad shouldered, white, and had a face like a bull and the attitude of one also. His hair was jet black and his eyes were dark green. Crony-A (I honestly did not know the kids name) laughed at everything Tuck said and would follow the boy around like he was a god.

None of the rest of them seemed to like Tuck either. Exception being Crony-A, an 18-year-old who was 5'4, rotund, red haired, and had a permanent pinched lemon face -- he worshipped at Tucks feet.

Needless to say, the two of them weren't in the room very often once we started hitting the second and third weeks of the semester. They were way too 'cool' to hang out with Dorm 1043. There were even rumors going around our floor of the residences that Tuck was going out and meeting up with local girls on the other side of the island.

When I casually asked Nick if there were any 'island girls' he said, "Sure. There are Caribbean locals 14 miles out from the school, they live with their families. We employ a lot of them to bring in our food and other supplies. But you boys are expected to do all the cooking and laundry, washing, etcetera. So don't go getting any ideas."

And those were the boys of Dorm 1043.

Well... also there was Finn.

I guess I had mentioned him; he slept below me and I guess you could say he was a pretty nice guy. He tried at least. Is it frustrating that I won't touch myself -- CAN'T touch myself, no matter what counsel Nick gave to the contrary -- with him possibly listening beneath my bunk! Yes, yes it's frustrating.

It doesn't help that Finn has those golden eyes. Those eyes they... well they make you want to talk. When he speaks to you, he looks you right in your own eyes and he doesn't look away. He rarely even blinks.

But back onto not being allowed to cum with stupid Finn Salts sharing a bunk underneath you; that's what brought me to the tipping point at the beginning of week four in our stay on the island.

That morning at 5 a.m. before the sun had even risen -- before surfer-dude 'Moss' had left his bed yet -- I woke up in a wet panic.

Wet panic meaning I FELT the wet all down my crotch and getting wetter -- cumming out in bursts all over -- leaking into the sheets AS I WAS WAKING.

Fuck.

I couldn't remember the last time I'd had a wet dream.

Fucking fuck.

Dawn hadn't broken through the tall dorm windows yet, so everything and everyone was still in shadow. Turning my head toward the door I could make out the tall bunk just 7 or 8 feet from my own. Sleeping on top of it was the hulking figure of Tuck; he wasn't doing his usual snoring and all I could do was pray -- pray in my wet panic! -- that I hadn't woken him up by accidentally moaning in my sleep.

My cock finally stopped pulsing sleep-jizz all over the place.

The other shadows on my top-bunk level lay still, their chests rising and falling with the tell-tale signs of sleep. Below me I could only hope that the others were undisturbed. Reaching tentatively to my waist with trembling fingers I tried to feel out the damage. My boxers were soaked with the juices, but worse than that, a puddle of the stuff had leaked out along my ass and through the boxers leg holes.

I followed blindly at the trail and cursed myself for sleeping so closely to the edge of the bed -- a line of my wet dream led off the mattress and -- please God, please God no! -- maybe down through one of the wooden slats holding the twin mattress up.

So. No choice but to get up then.

The bed creaked as I struggled out of the blankets and onto the ladder; I hoped it was dark enough that no one would notice my wet crotch. I threw my pile of blankets and my pillow for good measure over the majority of the messy sheets -- I'd deal with that later. Creeping down the rungs I felt the cold ocean breeze chill the gigantic cum stain. My balls which had been so happy and pulsing moments ago, shriveled up against the icy blast.

Pausing at the bottom of the ladder I looked at the underside of the bed and saw what I'd feared. A long strand of jizz, nearly translucent now but still white at its top was spaghetti-ing down over Finn.

The boy wasn't awake yet, but he rolled as I reached the base of the ladder, putting his lips and chin directly in the path of the dripping fluids.

I lunged to catch the gob and... I missed.

Sticking to the corner of Finns mouth, the rest of the cum ribboned off the wooden slat above and gathered in a little drop which... Finn yawned and licked his lips. My seed disappeared out of sight riding Finn's tongue.

Like it had a mind of its own and didn't know how panicked I felt, my dick still twitched at the sight of the sleeping boy accidentally eating my jizz. Holy shit! Leaning forward I wiped my wrist against the dripping wooden bed slat, gathering any excess milt.

Birds were starting to chirrup outside and I knew I had to get out of there and cleaned up before anyone in the dorm -- HELL, anyone in the school -- would have a chance at catching me.

Tiptoeing between the bunks I saw Moss stir and roll over, heard the twins syncopated breathing and saw one of their hands twitch, caught another bulge-inducing sight of Sawyers bare ass nearly hanging off his top bunk, and finally reached the end where I was nearly sure I'd gotten away with my secret.

And then I saw Isaacs little head peeking out at me from between his draped-off bottom bunk. His glasses caught the early dawn light finally starting along the ocean line. 'Shhhhhh', our little secret, I glared and mimed at him while raising a finger to my lips. Issaac nodded vigorously, his gaze clearly glued to my damp crotch, and then he raised a finger to his own lips in promise.

I was out of there.

The closest showers were a floor down and I didn't dare take the elevator to get to them. I padded through the elegant sandalwood lined halls with their single runner of basalt tiles at the middle and around first one turn and then another until I reached the emergency exit and the stairs. Clattering down the stairs three at a time, hands planted in front of my groin, I made surprisingly good time.

My bare legs and arms prickled in the cold stairwell. I was distinctly aware that my ass was wet and sticky with my own sperm.

Reaching the locker room at last, I didn't spare time to find my locker but instead tossed the cum-stained boxers onto the first bench I saw and rushed into the showers. This was one of the medium-sized school facilities, or so I'd been told, with an impressive fifteen showers all generally built in the same space. On the back blue-tiled wall were 7 showers coming from the tiling, at the center of the room were three tall poles each with multiple shower heads, and across from these on the opposite wall were the vestibule entrances to the left and right with 5 more showers coming out of the wall where one entered.

Right now, none of them were in use; the water was icy at first as it hit me. It warmed up as my cum dripped down the drain, leaving me to breathe a sigh of relief.

Had I been dreaming about Finn?

The memory was faint, but I was almost sure that his face had been in my dreams most recently -- and I'd had a wet dream at the sight of that face.

That gave me a lot to think about.

I'd never explored my sexuality much as a kid -- sure, I'd watched porn and really gone to town kissing and necking on dates -- but those experiences had always involved women. Dreaming about Finn? Being turned on by Sawyers ass? Cuming in counselor Nicks office at the thought of him watching me boy-fuck his furniture?

I was almost too turned on by all of it to hold still and analyze what it all meant. Was I gay? Bi? Was I just a horny fucking teenager who couldn't be fulfilled and would get off to anything? A memory surfaced of when I'd once jerked off into my cousin's underwear drawer DURING a family party and I'd LEFT the pile of cum there for him to find -- that's when I was twelve -- was I still that disgusting little pig?

For some reason the thought made me grin. And then I felt intense shame.

Nick had acted like it was normal to be turned on by weird things and that I should feel comfortable using the school to explore what that meant about myself.

With a sharp dick twinge I remembered that he'd suggested using the showers as a safe place to come and jerk off; sadly, my water was already starting to go cold.

I shut off the spigot and journeyed back into the locker room; unfortunately, my locker only had a shirt inside of it, not fresh shorts or underpants.

Nick had also said that this was a shared space -- I assumed that meant in an emergency like this one, another of the boys wouldn't mind if I stole some pants? or extra boxers?

One by one I started randomly opening lockers; lots of the pairs of runners looked too long or too short for me. I found a stiff pair of sweat stained boxers -- no idea who the hell they belonged too, but holding it up to my nose I found out real quick that I liked their smell. I slipped into them.

The next locker immediately to the right of that one stopped me in my tracks.

Inside the locker I found pants, which I stole, but hidden underneath those pants? There were three black bulbous objects ranging in size. I knew right away what they must be for and I felt my dick grow hard. I'd never seen anal plugs in person, only ever advertised on adult toy websites.

Generally, I knew how they were supposed to work: insert them into your butt for stretching purposes. I wondered if that really hurt.

And then I once again heard Nick encouraging me to embrace the campus way of life and be comfortable 'sharing' the environment.

I lowered the stolen pants and boxers, reached for the smallest of the anal plugs -- black and curved at the top with a lengthwise flat backside, the butt plug tapered from its tip at about 1/2 an inch to its large middle at about an inch or more wide. Feeling daring, I ran the plastic texture along my butt crack, pausing just below my cock at the opening of my hole. Pressing a little I thought the plug would go in, but for some reason it didn't.

The bathroom door banged open; luckily, I was out of sight behind the second line of lockers. Bolting upright I pulled the stolen clothes up, covering my naked behind and I pocketed the anal plug. Closing the open locker was the last thing I was able to do before a junior boy -- meaning he'd started a second term at Abstinere -- rounded the lockers and found me there.

We passed without a word and I was out of there, breathing a sigh of relief and totally forgetting my mornings' cum-filled underwear.

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The rest of the day went about as you'd expect, most of the roommates awake by the time I returned to the dorm. Finn eyed my stiff not-quite fitting stolen clothes with a suspicious look, Isaac grinned way too widely at me like we shared a secret. The Hulk and his crony were already up and gone for the day, probably getting an early breakfast. The twins were gone too. Sawyer was... oh... Sawyer was in the middle of masturbating.

Guess he felt REAL comfortable.

It wasn't an aggressive display or anything, he was just laid out on his top bunk and blissed out, headphones in and stroking his cock in long slow motions. His dark hair curled everywhere all across his pale skinned body, visible even between the cracks of his abs and between his ass cheeks as he thrust up a little into his hand.