The Dairy State Boy

"Kiss, suck each other, probably fuck each other.... I don't know. We didn't get that far. We were like 'nope, but here are two dicks, we'll put them wherever you want us to put them, and we did."

With that, he looked down at his erection, still poking out and leaking. Then, he looked back at me, raised his eyebrows, and asked, without saying a word, "you gonna take this dick or not?"

We had a conversation with our eyes. Neither of us said a word, but the conversation went like this:

"I have a boyfriend."

"I won't tell if you won't."

"I can't."

"Can't and won't don't mean the same thing."

"They do to me."

He moved to his bed. "Hey," he said. "I need to nut. Badly. You can help me, you can watch me, or I can go to the bathroom and nut myself out. It's your choice, but choose quickly. I'm starting to turn blue."

So was I. Like him, I needed to nut.

"I already chose," I said, sounding more defeated than I intended, sublimating my want.

"Suit yourself."

Those two words. Those two fucking words. They haunted me like a relentless ghost, always athwart what I needed and what I wanted.

"So," he continued, "in here or in there?"

"In there. I don't want to listen to you jack off."

I was lying. I not only wanted to listen, I wanted to watch. But, if I had listened or watched, then I would not have been able to stop myself from moving toward him, replacing his hand with mine, adding my mouth, and then taking his dick and his nut. I could taste them from where I was.

"Done and doner," he parried, getting up and following his erection to our bathroom.

I nutted while he was gone, rolling over as soon as he was out the door and writhing against my mattress, fucking my pillow until I exploded in my briefs.

"That was fast," I said, when he returned in no time, a bounce in his step and a smile on his face. I had barely recovered from my own orgasm when he re-entered.

"I was close to nutting just from telling you the story. I think talking about sex is hotter than watching it. That close, I was like fwap fwap fwap urrrgghh," he said, jacking an imaginary dick and then pretending to watch his nut fly through the air and land in his mouth.

"I'm a shooter," he said, answering my unasked question. "And, I try to catch what I can in my mouth."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"You eat your own nut"?

"Waste not want not."

I almost died. I couldn't imagine that any straight guy ever ate his own nut, much less tried to catch it out of the air once it was fired.

"Would you really have let me watch?"

"Sure. Craig and I used to jerk off together all the time. I liked when he watched, especially when he pretended not to."

I tried to wrap my mind around that image. I couldn't, but I tried, Craig looking out of the corner of his eye at Attie's perfect dick, hard and spilling.

He helped. "We basically lived together. If he wasn't at mine, I was at his. We shared our beds and we were teenaged boys. We talked and walked sex. We were always hard. One of us, I don't even remember which of us, finally said 'you don't have to leave to do that'. We stopped leaving. Then we started doing it together, looking at Playboy or watching a video we had stolen from some shitty video store. It was raunchy, but it showed women getting fucked, and that's all we needed."

"And you watched each other?"

"Yep."

"And you liked it?"

"I'm one part exhibitionist and nine parts sexaholic. I like to show off, and I like to get off."

"Your dick leaked on my comforter," I said, changing the subject.

"You're welcome," he deadpanned, smiling a devilish smile and suggesting that which was true, that I liked having some of him on my comforter.

We switched off our lights, Bach easing us into the night.

"It's a standing offer, by the way," he said, disrupting the silence a final time.

"What is?"

"My dick. If you ever want it, it'll be right here for the taking," he said, "between my legs, waiting for you."

"Oh, is that where you keep your dick, between your legs?"

"It is.... And, no strings attached, just two hot guys doing what they do, a guy who likes taking dick getting what he likes, and a guy who likes giving dick getting what he likes. It's a dream scenario, if you think about it. Win-fucking-win."

"By that logic, if I was a girl and wanted my pussy eaten, then you'd do it."

"You're goddamned right I would. If I roomed with a hot chick with a hot box, I'd have my face in that box every time she asked me, even if it was a one way street. If she wanted to get off, I'd happily get her off. It's a classic win-win.... She gets off and I get some pussy."

I didn't respond. I had no response. He was right, ours was a dream scenario. In fact, he was describing literally every gay boy's fantasy as he headed off to meet his college roomate for the first time. They all hoped they'd have a hot roomate who was open to the possibility.

I had so hoped. And my hope had been realized. And, yet, I was silent.

He pegged my silence. "Come on, what self-respecting gay guy turns down dick, especially a dick like mine on a guy like me?"

"This one," I answered, trying to sound more certain and confident than I was. I wanted to add "your arrogance is off-putting," but I didn't want him to think that, if his arrogance resolved, the door would open.

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"Suit yourself."

"Those two words," I thought to myself, burying my face in my pillow, "Oh my God.... Oh my fucking God, those two words are going to murder me."

* * * * *

"You really think I'm hot?" I asked Attie, as we ran and as I reflected on all we had said into the darkness.

"I don't think you're hot. I know you're hot."

I didn't think of myself as hot. I didn't even think of myself as cute. Instead, I thought of myself as Charlie in "The Perks of Being a Wallflower."

Kip was hot, the kind of boy who girls dreamed would fuck them.

Attie was the same. I marveled at the way girls looked at him.

They didn't look at me like that.

"Look," he continued. "I'm not one of those dudes who pretends he doesn't notice what he notices. I know I'm good looking, so I know if another guy is good looking, too. I also know I have a nice dick, so I know if another guy has a nice dick, too. We all do. Most just don't admit it. I do. You're hot."

"I don't think of myself as hot."

"I don't think you think of yourself as much of anything. I mean, you're content to be a boy on the side."

His words wounded me.

The wound brought me to tears. He was right, which is why I felt eviscerated.

Attie dashed to my side, cradled my head to his chest, whispered "shhh shhh shhh," and apologized for hitting the middle of the target. The affection quelled me.

"Shhh Shhh Shhhh," he urged. "I'm so sorry... so... so... sorry."

I whimpered into his chest. I didn't want to, but I couldn't stop myself.

"You don't need to be sorry," I mewed. "You're... [sob]... right."

Attie held me and rocked me until a fell asleep. I woke up in the middle of the night, my head against his chest, my drool pooling on his thigh.

I wiped my mouth and moved to my bed.

From that evening on, we were inseparable, our friendship sealed in that affection, his attention to my wound.

Soon after, I told him the story of Kip. I left nothing out.

"Did it hurt, the first time you got fucked?"

"What do you think? Of course it hurt. But, once it stops hurting, it's like nothing else."

"You like it?"

"I love it. I love everything Kip and I do together. It's all so much more than I imagined. The kissing, the fucking, the sucking, it was all so scary and taboo, and now it seems so normal."

"I don't think I could do it. Mollie rimmed me once. Or tried to. I couldn't let her. All I could think was 'my shit comes out of there'."

"I thought you were a sexaholic."

"I am."

"It doesn't sound like it."

"Being a sexaholic doesn't mean you have to like ass-play."

"I love ass-play," I admitted. "I like rimming, and I really like fingering when I'm sucking. I love the feeling of being inside someone when they are inside of me."

"You're thinking of taking my dick right now, aren't you?"

"No."

"Yes you are. You're wondering if -- when you take my dick -- I'll let you near my ass. I don't plan to, but who knows what'll happen in the moment. I might beg you to finger me."

I didn't say anything. I couldn't. I was mesmerized by his hand in his boxers as he played with himself. I was just as mesmerized as I wondered what it would be like to finger him while I sucked him.

"Your story has me boned up," he said. "It was really hot, especially the part in the pool. I swear I could feel the water on my body as you talked."

I didn't say anything. I just remembered the way the water lapped at Kip's chest hair, the way it had beaded on his shoulders, the way it attached to and then trickled from his eyelashes, the way it reflect the moon and the stars and his smile and those fucking electric eyes.... Like Attie, I could feel it on my body.

When I conjured myself from my memory, I saw that Attie had laid back, pulled his erection through his fly, raised his knees, and was working his dick. He was putting on a show. He wanted me to watch. He didn't give me the option of opting out.

"You don't have to watch," he said.

"Yes, I do," I thought to myself.

I sat up as his left hand gripped his balls and his right hand worked his shaft. It was live porn, and it was good.

I watched his meaty hand as it went up, down, and around, up down, and around, up, down, and around, as it swiped precum from his glans and smeared it on his tongue, as he squeezed, as he turned his hand backward, as he returned it to the up, down and around, and as he started going faster and faster until he said "oh shit" and shot into the air.

I watched him come, and I watched him try to catch his cum as it landed short, on his chest and stomach. His mouth was open, but he didn't have enough lift to hit it.

From watching him and slightly squeezing my own, I, too, came. Like a thirteen year old, I had come in my underwear, the palm of my hand pressing against my erection as I watched Attie too much for me to take.

After that, Artie and I were inseparable. Undoubtedly, I had replaced Craig as Attie's best friend. We got to the point where we could talk without speaking, where we knew what the other was thinking and wanted, and where we would laugh out loud together at something no one else imagined.

*****

I returned from Christmas Break without Kip. It had been quick, like your grandmother ripping a bandaid off your wound.

I had known it was coming. Even with that knowledge, it still hurt. Badly.

I called Attie in the middle of that night, to let him know. He listened, not offering any of the hollow platitudes to which so many resort during such calls.

"I'll be fine," I finally assured myself.

"Yes, you will," he re-assured me.

Attie returned from Christmas Break without glasses, a change I didn't much like.

"Your glasses made you look erudite."

"I am erudite. I don't need to look erudite."

"You may not need to, but erudite looked good on you.... The tousled hair, the nerdy glasses, you looked like a study in contrasts."

"I am a study in contrasts. I look like a linebacker, but I write lines of poetry."

I gave up. But, I also noticed that, in our room, when it was just the two of us, I got the erudite Attie, tousled hair and nerdy glasses. He wore his contact with others.

With Kip gone, Attie routinely joked that Goldilocks was available and that, when he went too long between fucks, he could use help with his TSB ("toxic semen backup").

"You jack off every day. There's no backup, much less a toxic backup."

"You can't release your own backup," he said, as if my suggestion otherwise was naive.

On and on it went, him needling me about taking his dick, and me resisting the needle. I should have gotten tired of it, but I didn't. I liked knowing he was into it and, if I wanted it, I could have it.

The needling continued even after Maddie started taking his dick, around Valentine's Day. Maddie was in our class, and she had shamelessly chased Attie for awhile before she had finally lured him back to her room. Once she had, she fucked him through the night, using her pussy to tame him.

"Holy fuck," he said the next day, after apologizing for staying out all night. "New chick -- Maddie -- big nymph. She noodled me."

"Noodled you?"

"Left me with nothing but a wet noodle," he said, grabbing his flaccid dick through his gym shorts. "Bloodless, like a vampire."

"You have a name type."

"How so?"

"Mollie... Maddie... Who's next? Maggie? Millie? Minnie?"

"I don't know who's next, but I know who's now. And Maddie is really fucking hot and loves to fuck, which is a dream combination for Goldie."

He was right, Maddie was really fucking hot. I was gay, but I'd have crossed over to fuck her. She was blonde, blued eyed, buxom, and didn't have an ounce of fat on her.

She also liked to fuck. Somehow, Attie had found a second girl who didn't treat sex like a treat.

I knew she liked to fuck because she was in a quad, so she and Attie were almost always in our room. At first, they were careful about my presence, fucking when they thought I was asleep, even though their thoughts were often mistaken.

"Little Bird?" Attie would whisper. When I didn't respond, I'd hear the rustling, the telltale gasp of penetration, the sound of her getting looser and looser while he slid in and out of her juicy mound, the sound of their muffled orgasms, and then her tip-toe to the bathroom to rinse herself out.

About two weeks in, they didn't consider me. I was at my desk, Attie was at his, and Maddie was on Attie's bed, thumbing through a magazine while Attie studied.

"You ready for a break, Beef?" Maddie asked.

"It depends," Attie answered. "What's in it for me?"

"You can put your dick in it."

I was suprised by her answer. I was more suprised when Attie stood, stripped himself while Maddie stripped herself, and then crawled between her legs, immodest while he ate her out and then as he crawled up and plunged in.

They were not muffled. I heard his "your pussy's so wet" and "take that dick" and her "fuck my pussy" and "give me that dick."

I didn't turn around. I just listened.

"Come on, Maddie, I need to get back to work."

"I'm close, Beef. Don't hurry."

"I can't back off again. I need to go. Use your hand."

"Omigod."

"I'm going.'

"Me, too."

They both grunted and, just like that, Attie was re-dressed and back at his desk, Maddie was re-dressed and back to her magazine, and I had turned to stone, unable to move, barely able to breathe.

"I told her we are a package deal," he said, after she was gone and I asked "what the fuck was that?"

"What does that mean?" I asked.

"It means you get to listen and watch, Little Bird. It... Means... You... Get... To... Listen... And... Watch. You don't have to pretend to be asleep, and we don't have to pretend we're not doing what we're doing. I thought it was the best play for you."

"For me?"

"Yes, for you. You're jealous. I get it. So, you get a little show to quell your jealousy."

He was right. I was jealous. But, I hated that he knew it.

Still, I loved what my jealousy reaped. From that moment, I listened to and watched them all the time.

Attie was a missionary man, so I mostly saw his ass and his back and his shoulders as he slid in and out of her, her ankles and feet high, her high voice cutting through the sex with its vapid "oh yeahs" and "fuck mes" and "omigods" and that terrible "oh oh oh" that women make to sound sexy, when all it does it make them sound needy and plaintive.

I loved watching his ass. He had never played soccer, but he had a soccer player's ass, firm and round.

Attie wasn't vocal during their sex, signalling his progress mostly through groans and grunts. Still, I picked up on small signals. For example, I figured out he liked a deep fuck, as he was noisiest when he was buried to the hilt, his hands on the headboard of his bed and his body angled for maximum depth.

"Does it bother you that I watch?" I asked her once, while we waited for Attie.

"If it bothered me, you wouldn't watch," she answered, as matter-of-factly as anyone had ever said anything to me. "Plus, you don't see much. Beef likes it one way, so all you really see is the back of him. It might bother me if he took me from behind and I was facing you, my titties dangling in front of you."

I smiled at her use of "titties." I had to.

Listening and watching, I heard and saw there was something she wouldn't do. No matter what, she wouldn't put her mouth on Attie's dick. Ever.

I overheard him begging her to do it.

I also overheard her refusal, which sounded final and firm.

"I don't do that. I've tried it, and I hate it. A lot. I'm not going to do it."

"If you don't, I'm not going down on you. Fair's fair."

"Fine. Fair's fair."

I knew they were doomed. When you start tit for tatting, the end is in sight.

A couple weeks later, Maddie hadn't been around, and Attie was restless. I asked him what was up.

"We had a fight. She won't blow me. It's pissing me off. I'm too young to beg for blowjobs."

Before I could agree, he slid his feet into his tennis shoes and headed out the door. A confrontation was looming.

* * * * *

"I didn't think you'd be back so soon," I said, Attie returning within an hour, super fast considering the walk to and fro.

"It was a good-bye fuck."

"A what?"

"A good-bye fuck. I fucked her and then broke up with her."

"Cold."

"I know.... It was a good one, too. She was wide open," he said, lying on his back and emulating her, his legs spread as widely as he could get them, like he was she and a ghost was fucking him. "I gave her all I had. After, I ate her out to prove a point and then I tried again to get her to at least lick my dick. She got really angry, said no, and told me I was an asshole for not taking no for an answer. I said 'I'm done here' and walked out."

"Cold."

"Yep."

The next morning, my eyes were still crusted with sleep when he apologized. "I've been an asshole," he said.

"Yes," I agreed cavalierly, not knowing what he was talking about but knowing enough to take his apology for whatever it was.

"I have."

"How so?"

"Constantly asking you to take my dick, even after you said no. Maddie was right. I should take no for an answer. It was rude."

"It didn't bother me," I said. "It's a fun little game, between the two of us."

"The game's over," he said, matter of factly. "I wouldn't like it if I wasn't into it but you kept begging me to take it. It'd piss me off. It might end us. I'm a goose and gander guy. I shouldn't do what I wouldn't like."

"Uh oh," I thought to myself, knowing how I was likely to react. As soon as he stopped offering, I was going to start wanting. The tables were turning, and he didn't know it.

He was true to his word. He stopped offering.

I was true to my prediction. I started wanting.

The tables had turned, and he didn't know it.

Little more than a week later, I took what I wanted. The Tueday night of Spring Break, we were in our room, the virtually abandoned building silent around us, the two of us amongst the few who stayed on campus. I was on my bed, relaxing against the pillows, slightly high (Attie didn't smoke, but he didn't mind that I did), listening to the ubiquitous classical music that filled our room.

Attie was on his bed, also relaxed against pillows, the swimsuit edition of his Sports Illustrated resting on his stomach and blocking my view of his face. He must've liked what he saw; his paisley boxers were unable to hide his arousal.