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Chapter Two

The Senior Class trip is a four-day and three-night affair. We’re going to Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. I’m interested in the trip because the University of Pennsylvania is located in that city. I want to walk around the campus and maybe meet some students, as that is where I’ll be going to college in the Fall.  

I can’t wait to start my life as a college student. The High School student part did not go well, and the Middle School part was pretty much ruined when my best friend, whom I loved with a passion, died in a horrible accident. I keep Tyler in a very special place in my heart.  For a long time now, I’ve been struggling to move on to whatever will be the rest of my life, and it’s about to start. 

In school, I got my information package for the trip in a big manila envelope stuffed with brochures, directions, schedules, meal vouchers, rules, and the pre-registered key for the hotel room. It’s too bad I couldn’t find anything in that envelope about me checking out every nook and cranny of the University of Pennsylvania, which is my intention. I’m not going to be part of the Senior Class Trip. I will be on my own, as I’ve been all through High School.

Listed on the front of my envelope, along with my room number, was my roommate’s name, Mr. Degenerate. He is one of the guidance counselors at the High School this year.  I get to share a room with one of the chaperones, so isn’t that special? I’m the only kid in my class who isn’t rooming with another kid. Maybe it can work out to my advantage, but I can’t imagine how. 

Finally, it was the night before our trip, and I began to let my imagination get the best of me.  I focused on Mr. Degenerate squeezing the back of my neck when he told me he and I were rooming together. Was it an affectionate squeeze?  Not just the neck squeeze,  though, but also his comment about sleeping in our own beds, “If we want our own beds.” That’s what he said to me while giving me a meaningful look with his eyes opened wide and eyebrows moving up and down. What the fuck?

Does he think I’m gay? It is hard to imagine a guidance counselor would be so stupid as to try something with one of his students. I am gay, but how would he know that? Nobody else does. Mr. Degenerate is young-looking, and I guess he’s nice-looking, too. And yes, I am desperate for some gay sexual outlet, but am I desperate enough to get in bed with Mr. Degenerate?  No, I’m not.

I need to find out about my sexuality with a boy my age. Of course, what do I know? I have zero experience, and the conflicting information on the Internet makes it all useless. So, maybe I should keep an open mind. Since age twelve, I’ve been yearning for something gay to happen to me! The longing and constant yearning is almost painful. I’m hopeful to find a real live boy at college. And except for a few minor hindrances, such as, I’m wicked shy and I lack self-confidence.  Except for those couple of drawbacks, I’m going to be taking that gay college scene by storm!  

Well, maybe ‘storm’ isn’t the exact right word.  What would be the right word for someone tip-toeing around in the closet like a little mouse? That would be the word for me. I gave up with these particular reality thoughts because they were not turning my dick on at all. Instead, I thought about something more recent. Ah ha! The boy I bumped into at the pizza shop earlier today. Now that is a reality with some firepower.  Oh my God was this kid cute.  He may have been 16 years old, and I walked right into the front of him, and our faces rubbed together. His skin was firm and smooth, and he smelled good. The boy was sweet and took all the blame for us running into each other.  I went right home and jerked off. 

Yeah, that happened, and it was a nice thing to think about while falling asleep. I was able to fall asleep with a smile on my face. The next morning was Senior Class Trip Day. Mom and Dad treated me like a ten-year-old heading off to my first Boy Scout camp. My luggage for the trip consisted of a soft-sided satchel and a small backpack, so I was able to walk to school. On the way, I dumped the lunch bag my Mom had insisted I bring along. The trip buses were stopping at Burger King for lunch.  

During the four-hour bus ride, I was wearing my headphones to discourage anyone from talking to me. I prayed that Mr. Degenerate was not riding on my bus and that if he did, he was not planning on sitting next to me. Please, dear God, give me one break for once.  Please! 

Once we got to Philadelphia, my plan was to ditch Mr. Degenerate and everyone else. I was on a University fact-finding trip all by myself. The rest of them were on a Senior Class Trip, sight-seeing all the historical sights. I planned to check out the University thoroughly, and perhaps more importantly while doing that, I’ll come across some kind of gay activities or gay hang-outs or something along those lines, assuming such things exist. 

When the bus pulled out, there was no sight of Mr. Degenerate, and nobody else was sitting with me either. I had the seat to myself, imitating my High School experience. Now, I’m good with it! Sighing contentedly, I stared out the window and said a silent thank you, God. I’d been ‘off’ God ever since Tyler died, but maybe I’ll consider giving God another chance if he continues this trend of something going my way for a change.  

A four-hour bus ride lay ahead of me. Some people might groan about that, but I was looking forward to it. The unique bus motion always caused me to get a boner.  Boners are fun, and I also like to look at the world as it goes by outside my window.  Every person I see in passing has an entirely unique life story all their own.  Every one of them! All intertwined with other people and the other people’s whole life stories.  Makes me realize how little any of us know about what is going on every second of every minute in every nook and cranny on earth. 

As expected, we stopped at a Burger King after almost three hours.  Unfortunately, we were the third bus to do so and many kids were in line ahead of us. I stayed on the bus until the food line was almost to the door of Burger King, then sauntered over to stand at the back of the line.  Two chaperons from another bus came up to stand behind me a few minutes later. They were talking about Mr. Degenerate and how he would have been on my bus’s chaperone except he was in a car accident on his way to school this morning.  

I was shaky, not believing my luck had changed this much. I didn’t wish for him to be seriously injured, and he wasn’t. He was too shaken up to make the trip, though. Omigod, I had a hotel room to myself! Or did I? Would someone think about that? No one replaced him as our bus chaperone, so maybe my own room and my own agenda? All kinds of possibilities that may have opened up for me now that Mr. Degenerate was a no-show. It gave me shivers that this was maybe happening.

We arrived an hour behind schedule at the Philadelphia Holiday Inn. Late because of the Burger King screw-up. Everyone congregated in a too-small conference room for an introductory meeting. Attendance was taken by the teacher or parent chaperon who was in charge of each group of kids.  I was part of Mr. Degenerate’s group, so I went over to that group, which had now been reassigned to a parent chaperon.  

All 380 kids had their names called in one group or another, and they yelled out that they were present. It was noisy and confusing with twelve people calling out different names at the same time. There would be a roll call each morning and each night. I was the 381st student on the trip, but my name was never called, not in Mr. Degenerate’s reassigned group or in any other group. This screw-up by somebody pleased the hell out of me.   

Thinking about it, it shouldn’t have totally surprised me that much because my name didn’t appear on anyone’s list since I was to be in the same room with Mr. Degenerate. He’d know I was present, so why would he feel he had to put my name on a checklist? Well, it looks like God is trying very hard to get back on my good side. First, the pleasant bus ride without an annoying talker beside me, and now this! This extraordinary piece of fantastic good luck.  

I’m on my own and in my own room. I pinched myself to be sure this wasn’t a dream and then went up to check out my room. The credit-card-looking thing was the key, just like they said it was. The only disappointment so far is that the bellhops were not cute and young. I carried my own bag to the room, which was small but nice. It was at the end of a long hall, on the third floor next to a stairwell. The room had a double bed and a pull-out sofa, which I wouldn’t need now.  

The elevators were quite a hike down the hall, but I had no intention of ever using the elevator. I was going to sneak in and out using the stairs and try my best to avoid all contact with the High School Senior’s Class Trip group.  I was on my own now, just like I usually am. It was the middle of the afternoon on a chilly, gray day when I walked out the hotel’s side door and headed out to my right. Ten blocks walking slowly and looking at the tall buildings and the crowds of people all hurrying to get to someplace.  

It felt weird being here alone in the big city. It was all totally new to me.  I was wearing the same small backpack I wore on my bicycle rides. In it was the map of Philly I’d gotten from my trip packet, the instructions on how to use the public transportation system, my iPod, a sweatshirt that said on the front of it, “Sarcasm…just one of my specialties,” and two bottles of water from my room. I had money in my wallet, including the hundred-dollar bill that Christian had sent me as an early graduation present so I’d have some money for my Senior Class Trip. I couldn’t think of anything else I’d need. 

The University of Pennsylvania was far enough away from the senior trip hotel that I needed to take the elevated train. That was fun, although initially, figuring out which was the right train to take was a challenge. I’m smart, though, so my brain, plus a little old lady, got me on the correct train. The little old lady told me which train to take. The part where my brain came in was that I realized I needed the little old lady’s help. It was a ten-minute walk after the train ride. 

Then, before I realized it, I found myself on the University of Pennsylvania campus. There are many large, old, brick buildings. Statues in landscaped areas covered with pigeon shit, buildings with ivy growing up the walls, and, of course, many college-age kids with backpacks and armloads of books hustling and bustling around. It was hard to tell if some buildings were part of the campus or were office and apartment buildings.  

This inter-city campus was spread out over a number of city blocks. The center of the campus with the sports stadium and field house and the crisscrossing brick sidewalks leading to dormitories and all types of classrooms, plus all those students left no doubt it was a University, but when I walked a few blocks away I wasn’t sure if I was still on the University grounds or not. Well, this is why I’m here, to explore, familiarize, and conquer the University of Pennsylvania. And to try to hook up with a cute gay freshman who will fuck me a few times, and then show me everything I need to know about the university.   

I started to explore the area by walking a number of blocks away from the university center to try to determine where the campus actually ends. It wasn’t too long before I felt I was off the campus because the buildings started looking run down and seedy. With each ensuing block, the buildings looked worse and worse. I’d never thought of myself as having a prejudice against people of color, but I had to admit my experience with them was very limited.  There were two black kids and a few Hispanic and Oriental kids in my High School class but I had zero interaction with them.  Here in Philadelphia, there are a lot of people of color. Just a few blocks off campus it seemed everyone I passed on the street was an African American. 

I turned up a street and then another street, but by now, I was positive that these buildings were not part of the campus. A big problem developed, too, in that I was seeing blocks of unoccupied buildings, some looked like they’d been bombed, and others had obviously burned to the ground.   It was bleak! Plus, I’d been aware that a black kid who looked to be about seventeen was following me. He’d been there for at least the last three blocks.  

When I stopped to check my iPhone, looking around to see if I could locate a street sign or something that matched what I saw on my phone, he called out, “Yo, motherfucker.  What you doing?”  

I couldn’t help but look behind me, hoping upon hope that he was calling out to someone else, but I didn’t see anyone else. It hit me right then that I hadn’t seen anyone for a while now.  I was a little nervous, a little uncomfortable as the silence around me echoed in my ears. Because of my nervousness, I looked at the kid and did that dumb thing of pointing at myself as if I were asking, “Do you mean me?”  

He said, “Who da fuck ya think I’m talking to? Ya see any other motherfuckers around?” Hoping my stuttering wouldn’t be too noticeable I said, “No. Um, could you tell me which way back to the University campus?”  

He slowly approached me and I could see that he wasn’t any bigger than me. There was a definite attitude about him, though. He appeared very aggressive and confident as he swaggered up close to me, almost chest to chest. He was wearing droopy jeans and a thigh-length, too-big Philadelphia 76ers warm-up jacket over some sort of football jersey.  On his feet were large, elaborate, expensive-looking Nike leather sneakers, and on his shaved head was what I think is called a do-rag.   

There was a fat, fake gold chain hanging down from his neck. This close, he looked maybe a year or two older than my original guess of seventeen.  He said, “Give me ten dollars and I might tell ya where your ass is at.”  

I looked at him for a couple of seconds with my mouth hanging open before I figured out that I better give him the ten bucks, but when I looked in my wallet, my smallest bill was a twenty.  I said, “Do you have change for a twenty?”  

He tried not to, but he laughed out loud. “Shiiiit! Where you bounce in from, snowflake?  Gad damn, you stupid!  What the fucks yer name? ”  

I told him and he said, “Listen, Ol-lee-ver. Tell me why the fuck ya need to know where the U of P be? You be too stupid to go to no college!”  He had drawn out each syllable of my name to mock me, I guess.  I told him I’d already been accepted to go there in the Fall and he said, “Shiiiiit! That’s mighty hard to fucking believe Ol-leee-ver!  Aaight, give me the fucking twenty.  Ya all ain’t got no fucking Benjamins, do ya?”  

I had the one Benjamin that Christian had given me, but I shook my head, and said, “No, I don’t got no fucking Benjamins”. 

He grinned and stuffed the twenty in his back pocket, staring at me hard. Then he told me to follow him. I had to hustle to keep up because he just took off fast. He led me back through some alleyways and across empty lots with broken beer bottles and debris of all kinds. It seemed like we were going further and further away from the University, but maybe my sense of direction was off. I knew enough to know I was totally lost. 

None of the streets had street signs so my map and phone were useless.  To say something, I asked him his name, and it sounded like he said, “Ryjohn” but that didn’t sound like any name I ever heard of. “

“Pardon me, but what was that name?”  He said, “Ryjohn, ya deaf motherfucker!”  

After that, I started getting nervous again because he wouldn’t talk to me except to say, “Shut the fuck up, Ol…leee….ver. Just follow me.” 

When I was feeling I might pee my pants, expecting to be mugged or stabbed or worse, we walked around a corner and I saw the main campus three blocks to my left. Ryjohn called me motherfucker about four more times, but he also told me which streets to stay out of. He had grabbed the city map out of my hand and pointed to the dangerous areas. “Stay the fuck out of there, you dumb shit ’cause maybe you ain’t gonna be so lucky next time. You be in the projects when you in here. See where my black motherfucking finger is pointing? Sum gangsta homies catch your dumb ass in here and you ain’t gonna like what happens.” 

Nodding that I understood, I noticed he had a scar that started at his right eyebrow and went sideways disappearing under his do-rag. Scar or no scar, he was a very good-looking boy. I had the urge to touch his face, his skin was flawless, the color of milk chocolate. I resisted the urge to touch him. Then, taking me by surprise, Ryjohn cupped the back of my neck with his hand and shook my head back and forth a couple of times and then he pulled my face close to his and I felt his warm, fresh-smelling breath on my face with each word as he said, ” A skinny, pretty boy like you in the project is gonna last maybe less than a motherfucking ten minutes. You lucky enough to get me on your motherfucking case, so you OK this time. So, Ol-leee-ver, stay out of the projects ya dumb fucker you!” 

I was trying hard to follow what he was saying when he pulled my head closer, and our foreheads touched. His skin was cool, firm, and silky. He held our heads together for a few seconds as I gasped out short little breaths. I had the strongest urge to kiss his lips as I stood there perfectly still. Ryjohn let go of me, turned abruptly, and walked away a few steps. I watched open mouth as he turned and smiled at me with perfect, beautiful white teeth and said, “Ciao, motherfucker!” And he swaggered away. 

I was breathless as I said, “Bye Ryjohn, thanks!” I thought maybe that was the best twenty dollars I’d ever spent. Even so, I was weak in the knees until I returned to the campus. I collapsed on the first bench I came to and realized for the first time how hard my heart was beating. Ryjohn had my heart beating hard, and my dick was getting hard too. He was one damn hot motherfucker alright. Jeez, I’d never met anyone remotely like him before. I looked back to where we’d come out of the project, but he was nowhere to be seen. 

I wish I could have thought faster on my feet and made some connection with him. I stayed sitting on that bench until my boner finally went down. It was getting late in the afternoon, but I still wanted to see more, so I walked through the campus opposite what Ryjohn had called the “project’. I walked way over to the other side of the campus and found a nice section of the city there.  It was a busy upscale area with restaurants, clothing stores, food markets, and what looked like four or five bars and taverns.  

The street was closed off to traffic for three very long blocks so it was a huge outdoor Mall. Lots of people were strolling around, and many of them were young. The energy was exciting. Street entertainers added to the atmosphere. There was a guy on stilts advertising for one of the bars, and two jugglers juggling odd items like balloons filled with water and bowling balls.  Maybe it’s just me, but I’ve always felt that jugglers, next to mimes, were the most boring acts imaginable.  

On the plus side were several street musicians: one instrumental group and a couple of individual singers. I was drawn to one guy because his voice reminded me of someone. I could only see his back as I approached the crowds toward him. The closer I got, the more familiar he sounded.  Then I knew what it was. I know it’s maybe a little weird or macabre, but this guy’s singing voice sounded just like Tyler’s singing voice. The way Tyler sounded after our voices changed. Call it projection or whatever you want, but it was uncanny how much this street artist sounded like Tyler.  

He didn’t look anything like Tyler. This guy had a beautiful light tan, and I’m guessing, but with the very dark brown hair and eyes, I think he was Hispanic, but when he asked if anyone had a song request, he had no accent whatsoever.  An older lady asked for something by the Beatles, and the singer started with another song I’d never heard before. It sounded just like Tyler was singing it, which gave me goosebumps. I had a really creepy feeling in my stomach, and my eyes started tearing up. 

The singer wore an old Army field jacket and ripped jeans on both knees. Real old boots on his feet added to the feeling that this guy was maybe homeless. I wiped my eyes and stared at the singer’s mouth. He sang so easily and naturally; his lips were full and shaped a delicious rosy pink color, and behind those lips, I could see white, shiny teeth. There was a tiny space between his front teeth that somehow made me think they looked cute. When he opened his mouth for certain notes, I could see his tongue, which was the same rosy pink color as his lips.  

I couldn’t take my eyes off his mouth. I’m not a huge Beatles fan, so the song was annoying, but the voice was pure. He effortlessly played an electric guitar, and it sounded amazingly good, considering he only had one small speaker amplifying the sound. I was mesmerized by his performance, or maybe I was mesmerized.  He had a short, wispy, sparse beard that was not dark brown like his hair, but rather a light brown color and very soft looking. His dark brown hair was pulled back into a short ponytail. There was a calmness about this kid that is hard to describe, but it added to that mesmerizing feeling I had.  

At the most, he was nineteen or twenty. I wouldn’t necessarily say he was cute, but he looked too young to be described as handsome, so I’ll settle on cute. He was an inch or two taller than me and just about as skinny. He asked for another request, and I raised my hand like a dork. He ignored the others. He pointed to me with a cute grin and said, “No one has ever done that before. Raised their hand, I mean.”

I could feel my face get bright red, which felt very hot. The singer had a long cord leading from his guitar to the amp, which allowed him to walk over in my direction until he was right in front of me. In a very warm, sincere, calm voice. he said, “Please tell me what you’d like to hear?” 

I wanted to become invisible, but I was captivated by his eyes as he stared into mine. Even with my heart pounding and my face about to burst into flames, I was aware of the growing sound of nervous, uneasy mumbling and grumbling from the others standing around as I said, “Plain White T’s.”

He nodded, saying, “They only had the one hot, Hey There Delilah.”  I’d heard the song on the bus waiting at Burger King. It was the only thing to come to mind. Using Tyler’s voice,  he sang that song as well as The Plain White T’s can sing it, and maybe better than they can sing it. He sang the entire song directly to me, which was awkward. I clapped much too hard when the song was over. He laughed and then slowly roamed over to the other side of the crowd and got another request.  It was another song I didn’t know.  

I listened to the singer for almost half an hour, but he never returned to my side of the crowd again. Finally, he said he was taking a break. He picked up the baseball cap on the street before him, had dollar bills sticking out, and heard change jingling. People tossed money in the hat when they liked his performance. I wanted to put money in, but I still only had twenty-dollar bills and that one Benjamin that Christian had given me.  

It’s too much to leave in a hat for a song. I waited over an hour, but he never returned. I thought I’d better start finding my way back to the hotel. Darkness had set in, and everything looked different in the dark. Walking back through the campus, I made sure not to go too far and wind up in the projects again. It took some doing and over an hour of trying, but I returned safely to the Holiday Inn.  

I asked quite a few people for help along the way and was surprised at the number of people who didn’t even know what street they were on. In retrospect, I don’t know why I was surprised as I didn’t know what street I was on either. I saw the elevated train station, and I knew where I was. Finding your way out of being lost makes you feel good! 

After eating from the large dinner buffet back at the hotel and paying for the meal with one of my food coupons, I went to my room and called my parents to tell them I was having a great time. Then I laid back on the bed and thought about my adventures. What a day! I found two exciting boys who were very different, but who both seemed so worldly to me and so sexy hot, too.  Thinking about first Ryjohn, then the mesmerizing street singer, gave me the urge to jerk off, so I did. 

Just thinking about those two had me pumping my boner in a blur and squealing out with the eruption. It was excellent. I took a long shower, got in bed with the TV on, and promptly fell asleep. I had a surprisingly great night’s sleep. Being in a strange place alone had no negative vibes for me. I felt like a seasoned traveler. Of course, I fully engaged all three locks on the door. 

Down the steps with a breakfast buffet voucher, spent a little time in the bathroom, and then down the stairs and out the side door again. As I passed that conference room, I could hear the attendance being taken.  Ha ha ha! I was off on my own. I didn’t need a little old lady this time to get me on the correct train. I was back on the University of Pennsylvania’s campus before ten o’clock, bright-eyed, with a big smile. I walked directly to the outside Mall, looking for that street singer again. It wasn’t nearly as crowded that morning, but he wasn’t there.    

The guys who were there didn’t interest me, so I slowly walked back to the campus to get familiar with it. I still had the bright eyes, but I’d put the smile away for now. I wanted to try talking to some of the University of Pennsylvania students. That was an important part of my plan, so I asked a young-looking guy if I could speak to him for a second, and he said, “No.” I asked two girls walking together if they had a minute, and they just kept walking. I saw a student reading a book sitting on a bench, so I sat on the same bench.  

I looked over at him a little bit, and without me asking, he said, “I’m reading; can’t you see that?” Is it possible every single person who goes to the University of Pennsylvania is a stuck-up prick?  What a bunch of balloon-head ego maniacs, stuck-up jerk-offs!  I smelled coffee and wandered into a building with a cafeteria on the ground floor.  It was crowded, but I got a coffee and was lucky enough to grab a table as some girls left. Great table. It looked out on the busy campus grounds. I looked around the cafeteria; everyone talked and laughed like normal kids.

They didn’t seem like stuck-up pricks. Three guys walked right over to my table and said, “Sorry to intrude, Dude, but there aren’t any empty tables, so let’s share.  Would that be okay with you?” They were sitting down when they asked if it was okay, so I smiled at their rhetorical question.  For all I know, sitting with strangers is a common practice when no other space is available. Plus, now I’d have my opening to get friendly, ask some questions and maybe learn something.  

I said, “How are you all doing?  My name is Oliver.”  A young guy with a very thick accent, like he was from Mississippi or someplace like that, said, “Didn’t somebody write a book about you, Oliver?” I said, “I think you’re confusing me with my cousins, the Twists.”   He said, “Yeah, that must be it.  I get everything back-asswards. What class are you in?” 

This guy looked younger than a college student, but some guys just looked young. I told him I would be a freshman next fall, and that now I was here on a Senior Class Trip.  I explained how I was taking this opportunity to check out the University.  He asked if I was a scholarship student and I said I was and told him the scholarship I’d received.  

“You must be a frigin’ genius than,” he said.  This kid had the darkest red hair I’d ever seen and his face was covered in big freckles.  He told me his name was Andy and he was in his freshman year.  

The other two had the same first name, Barry. They explained that the scholarship I’d received was only given out to students with perfect grades and close to perfect SAT scores.  He hesitantly added that there had to be special circumstances or hardship involved too. I hadn’t known that, but I couldn’t help but wonder if Tyler’s death and my reaction to his death was a special circumstance for me.  My parents would know, but I might not ask them, or maybe I don’t want to know. 

I nodded at the special circumstance remark and moved on by asking, “How was Freshman year going?”  Andy said, “It’s been funking blippin!” When I asked what that meant, he said, “Awesome, cool!”  The thin Barry said that Andy was from the boonies of Alabama, “Way out past East Cupcake.”  

I didn’t ask where East Cupcake was.  As they drank their coffees and ate their sweet rolls and donuts, they told some funny stories and then some tales of woe about how hard it was, in the beginning, getting used to the difficulty of the work, and especially the volume of work they had to do on their own after classes. The heavy-set Barry started ragging on Andy, telling me, with a serious, dead-pan expression, “In Andy’s neighborhood they know you’re trailer trash when you let your twelve-year-old daughter smoke at the dinner table .”  

I hesitated for just a second; I couldn’t hold it in, and I burst out laughing. The other guys chuckled and Andy said, “Fuck you, Barry.  Why don’t you concentrate on finishing the half dozen donuts you got in front of you, ya fat fuck.”  

Then the other Barry added a few insults and they were having a good old time. I said that since they were college students, maybe they could help me out with something.  All three looked at me when I asked, “What’s a cranny?”  The fat Barry said, “Oh, she’s married to your grandfather, usually.” I said “Not Granny, cranny, as in nook and cranny?”  At the same time, both Barrys said, “Fuck if I know.” Andy said, “I’m from Alabama, I don’t know shit.”  

I told them that it was great dealing with real live college students. They got serious again, or slightly serious, and they all agreed that a Professor Wainright was a complete ‘assoholic’ and that I should stay clear of his class. They called him an ‘ambisexual,’ and I questioned what that slang word meant. They don’t know if he is gay or not, but he might be. Between Ryjohn and these university kids, I’m going to have to learn two entirely new vocabularies. The ‘ambisexual’ remark at least provided an opening for some talk about gays at the university. 

There was about the same percentage of gays at the University as the population at large, was the consensus of Andy and the two Barrys. And yes, there were gay clubs and gay organizations and nobody really cared all that much if you were gay or not. The fat Barry said, “Why all the interest in gays, Oliver? Are you gay?” And for the first time in my life I said, “Yes, I’m gay.   But,  so far I haven’t been able to do anything to prove it.”  They all laughed and said, “That’s cool!” I glanced out the window and there was the street singer from yesterday. He looked different because he was wearing preppy clothes now and had a backpack on, far from the homeless look of yesterday. He had his arm around a pretty girl’s shoulders and the two of them were laughing. I stared at them and, absurdly, was disappointed that he was with a girl.      

I told Andy and the two Barrys that it was great meeting them and I’d look them up next fall, and then I hurried outside. As usual, I had no plan. Outside, the street singer was walking away with the girl.  At the last second, he turned his head and saw me standing there looking at him. He did a double take and held the second look for a bit until the girl pulled on his sleeve and he went back to talking with her. I watched them walk around a corner and disappear. That look he’d given me. Did it mean anything? I continued to acquaint myself with the University campus by walking up every side street and brick walkway I came upon.  

Three girls stopped and talked with me for twenty minutes. They were very friendly, and I think they were flirting with me, teasing me, or something. They concentrated mainly on describing the party scene on campus and gave me the names of two hot bar spots for college kids. One of the girls added, “I feel bad telling you this, Oliver, but tell you’ll never get served in either bar. Sorry, but you look way too young.”  The girl who said that to me was named Dee, and she played with my hair as she talked to me. They asked me questions about my scholarship and my High School experience. I told the truth about the scholarship but lied about the High School experience telling them it was ‘blippin’. They just nodded as if they knew what I meant.  

Later I had a late lunch with two black students from England. They had cool accents and told me a lot about the diversity on campus, but didn’t know about gay clubs. When I asked about gay dorms, they said they didn’t think so, but I could sense the gay conversation wasn’t of any interest to them and they finished up their lunch and drifted away. I was getting tired, but no way was I going back to the hotel without checking out that street Mall to see my street singer again. He wasn’t there, so I wandered around looking in shop windows and listening to the other street musicians. I bought this big fat, soft pretzel that was covered with large salt crystals. People were squeezing mustard on their pretzel so I thought, what the fuck, I’ll try that too. Yum yum. 

Then, there was the street singer who I thought sang to me yesterday. He was alone, standing in a group listening to a guy play the flute. I wasn’t sure what to do because I hadn’t planned anything.  So, without a better plan, I followed him as he wandered from group to group.  He seemed deep in thought, and with each position change, I got closer until I was right next to him. “Hello, how are you doing?” I managed to say.  

He and saw me. Smiling, he said, “Hey, my main ‘Plain White T’s’ man!  I saw you earlier this afternoon, didn’t I?”    

And just like that we started talking as we stood together, like we knew each other. He said he couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed me around the university. I told him about being a high school senior and the whole routine of checking the university out on my senior class trip.  

After about five minutes, he put out his hand and said, “I’m Cristobal Juarez. It’s nice to meet you.” I said, “Oliver Nickerson, the pleasure is mine.” We shook hands, and afterward, he put his arm around my shoulder, and we strolled off. He asked me what I wanted to see on campus that I hadn’t seen yet. I said a dormitory.  

“Let’s go, Oliver, I’ll show you mine.”  As we walked, he was very talkative and friendly. He made me feel very relaxed. His dorm was in a very old building. It was basically one room, and he shared it with a roommate who was out. I was disappointed the dorm wasn’t nicer, bigger, or something. Just a messy room. I sat on his bed, and he sat at his desk, and we talked some more. I told him about my singing in the church choir, and he explained that he earned pocket money by doing the street musician gig three nights a week.  

He said, “Let me hear you sing,” and after some encouragement, I sang some of the “Hey There Delilah” song. He clapped and said I was wonderful, and we should sing it together for the tourists sometime. He told me that a lot of tourists come to see the University, and a lot of local people, in addition to all the college kids, shop and eat in the street Mall, too. So, there is always plenty of foot traffic in those three blocks.

While we were in his dorm room, he received a couple of calls on his cell phone. Near the end of the second one, he said, “Okay, I’ll stop over for a while. I’m bringing a friend with me.”   

To me, he said, “Come on, Oliver. I’ll show you what a typical fraternity party looks like.” He was so easy to get along with. During our time together, I couldn’t help but stare at him. I have to say he’s beautiful. I can’t think of a better word to describe his looks. In addition to being beautiful, it was also super nice. I loved being with him. We walked slowly for fifteen minutes, talking all the while with his arm across my shoulders again. It felt very comfortable and natural somehow, and then there it was. My first frat party, I think that’s what it is.

A lot of guys and girls out front of an old mansion. Well, the building is big enough to be a mansion. Some girl came right up to Cris and he introduced me. It was the girl I’d seen with Cris earlier. He kept his arm around my shoulders which made me feel awesome. Her name was Candy and she didn’t seem to think it was odd at all that Cris had his arm around my shoulder. We talked for a couple of minutes then went inside for beers. I’m not much of a drinker, hardly having any opportunities to drink beer, but I tried to keep up with Candy.  Cris was drinking more, but it didn’t seem to affect him much. The two of them talked about a concert they’d been to last weekend. They laughed a lot and Cris included me in the conversation.

There was music playing, and people began dancing, and it was a very active party. Lots of loud talking and laughter. Candy was off dancing with some guy. Cris said, “Here Oliver, give me your beer.” I gave it to him, and he put both our beers on a step. Then, without a word he took hold of me around my waist and began slow-dancing with me, our crotches rubbing together. He just took it for granted that I’d want to dance with him. He made it all seem, somehow, as if it were the most normal thing in the world to do. I was beyond stunned. 

First of all, Chris and I are guys. Secondly, I can’t dance. Very quickly, Cris said with a laugh, “Oh my God, Oliver, you’re a terrible dancer. Here, follow me.” And he began to teach me to dance. Other kids were all around us but no one made any comment or even looked over. They were either seriously into themselves and didn’t notice us or, more likely, they were used to seeing Cris dancing with boys. Slow dancing wasn’t hard to learn but I loved feeling Cris’ body. He put his face next to mine and, of course, I got a hard-on. What a wonderful feeling to be in his arms. I kept thinking that this couldn’t be happening, but it was.  

We danced to only one slow song, then a song with a fast beat. Cris picked up his beer and drank some. “Ugh! It’s warm. Let’s get a couple of cold ones.”  It’s like I’m his date.

Off we went, Cris making no effort to explain why he’d started dancing with me, or why he thought I’d be fine with it, fine with dancing with a boy. I had questions for Cris, but I did not want to ruin this perfect time, so I saved the questions for later. This was simply too wonderfully exciting! 

We had the cold beers and Cris told me about the different fraternities and how they all had different approaches to partying. Finally, I was too curious and had to say, “I’ve never danced with a boy before; have you, Cris?”  

He laughed and said of course he has, many times, but never with a boy who danced as badly as I do.  He said it with a very sweet smile and then he added, “Or with a boy as cute as you.” 

 I was speechless but thrilled! He took my hand and led me around the side of the huge porch that encircled the ground floor. When we were alone, he gently held my head between his hands and kissed my cheek. First one, and then the other. His skimpy short beard was so soft I hardly felt it.  Quickly a kiss on my lips. Then, a long kiss on my lips, which I somehow knew to open for him. With my lips apart he put his tongue against my front teeth and licked them up and around, his tongue going under my top lip.  

I moaned and opened my mouth and he French kissed me. I’d never felt this way before. He took his time and kissed me with such passion I began to feel dizzy because I couldn’t remember to breathe. My boner was leaking and he began kissing my neck, just under my jaw, and then gently sucking there. Shortly, I humped a couple of times against his thigh and climaxed in my pants, crying out a squeaky sound like air escaping from a pinprick in a balloon.  I was clutching him around his waist so tightly that he asked me to please loosen my hold a bit. “Oliver, you little Hottie! You just shot off in your pants, didn’t you? You are so cute. I can’t tell you how happy I am that I found you again.” 

I was gasping for air. My climax had felt better than any I could ever remember having. He handed me his handkerchief and said, “Hurry, Oliver, wipe inside your pants before the cum soaks through. That would be embarrassing, no?”  He was laughing again.    

I undid my pants and did what he’d suggested. He made it all seem like fun and games, and afterward, I kissed Cris on his lips, and we kissed and made out for another ten minutes; my boner came back up, and I felt his hard boner against my thigh. This was easily the most sexually excited I’ve ever been. I wanted to make out all night, but Cris said he hated breaking it up but had to get back. He had to study for a late-term exam he was taking in the morning.  

He said, “I wouldn’t even have come over here tonight, Oliver, but I couldn’t resist the chance to get a few beers in you and loosen you up a little. I thought about your cute face all last night and I was so happy to see you again at the Mall. Come on and walk me back to the dorm. We’ll make plans for tomorrow. Okay?” 

Back at the dorm, we kissed some more. He fondled my body, particularly my ass, and it was truly a dream finally come true for me. Out of nowhere, this miracle had occurred. We made plans for me to meet tomorrow after his classes, at the Street Mall. “I’ll play guitar and sing for one or two hours and then the two of us can think of something to do, right?”  He said that last part with that wicked smile of his. Every time I thought he had given me the last goodnight kiss of the night he’d hesitate and then come back for another one.  

I would have stayed there all night, but he finally did go in to study. I was in a fog all the way back to the Holiday Inn. What a fantastic turn of events. I got something to eat sort of floating. I took the food back to my room and sate it there. Then, I lay on my bed going over each thing that Cristobal and I had done together. He’d told me that his father is Puerto Rican and his mother is half Irish and half Japanese. What a fabulous combination and did it ever create a beautiful boy. Talented and smart as hell, too. Not a brag, but you can’t get into the University of Pennsylvania unless you were at the top of your High School class.  I ran the water in the bathtub and soaked in there thinking about the feelings he had given me.  

They were brand new feelings of wonder and lust. I remembered how he tasted and felt and how I couldn’t get enough of him, and it appeared he couldn’t get enough of me either. I thought of him as I slowly stroked my boner under the warm bath water and I ended up with my whole body shaking in the water as I had a wild climax. Truly a new level of sexual sensations! It was difficult to get to sleep because I couldn’t stop thinking about him.  

When I did go to sleep, I dreamed of Cristobal Juarez. I woke up with the dream in my head about us dancing, but it excited me so much I had to jerk off again.  It was three o’clock in the morning when I shot my third load today. First in my pants with Cris and then in the bathtub, and lastly jerking off in bed thinking about that dream. Three fabulous wanks.   

The next morning, I was restless thinking about what I’d do until meeting Cris. Trying to get my mind off him for a little while, I went on one of the hotel’s sightseeing tours of historic Philadelphia. It lasted two hours and it was interesting, plus now I have something I can tell my parents about the trip. I ate lunch in the hotel and actually talked to some of my classmates. It was fun listening to them recount their adventures that sounded like they were having a great time with a lot of laughs, but it also sounded like kid stuff compared to my adventures. Later, Cris was already singing when I got to the outdoor Mall and he looked so cool.  

Today, Cris is going to continue his preppy look from yesterday.  Last night, he told me that he has three looks for his guitar and singing gigs at the Mall. The homeless look, like I saw him on the first day, a preppy look like yesterday and today, and his favorite, the punk look. He’d showed me his punk outfit and clip-on ‘piercings’ and a wild moused-up hair look.   

I liked all his looks. I can’t imagine any look that I wouldn’t like of Cristobal. He didn’t notice me standing there in his audience for a couple of minutes, and then when he did notice he broke out in this big grin right in the middle of his song. People saw that big grin and looked over in the direction Cris was looking, and had to notice me staring back at Cris and smiling like mad at him. He shook his head with a grin and a laugh and looked other places.  

It made me feel great to see his reaction when he saw me.  I watched and listened for over an hour, and by then, he had enough money in his hat that Cris insisted that he was going to treat me to dinner. It’s like I’ve had a glow all around me the last twenty-four hours, the best twenty-four hours of my life. In his room, he put his guitar away and casually wrapped his arms around me to hug me.  Without speaking he had one hand cupping the back of my head just like Ryjohn had done to me.  Cris rubbed up the back of my head as his lips covered my lips, and right off his delicious taste was all over my tongue. He had shaved off his little skimpy beard and I thought he looked even younger now. The smoothness and tightness of the skin on his face was very sexy and I licked up his cheek and my cock got hard. 

The newness of kissing and being kissed by a boy, one who I was so attracted to had me moaning with pleasure from the very first touch. These sensations were all so new that they had a very powerful, instantaneous effect.  My body responded to him totally. I was boner hard within seconds of contact and I was squirming and cooing, and I felt tingling all over my body. Cris has a way of licking and sucking my tongue that caused my boner to leak.  Everything he did completely overwhelmed my senses with pleasure. It wasn’t long before I pulled my lips away from his and, with the sides of our faces together, I took a deep breath and whispered, “Cristobal, I’m going to cum too soon. I want to enjoy this longer.”  

He mumbled, just a little more,” and he was hungry for me and wouldn’t stop kissing the side of my face and under my chin on my neck and then just like last night, I moaned as I shot off a long stream of cum in my pants, then struggled again for air. This pleasure even topped what I experienced yesterday.  

I couldn’t speak. It was a too other-worldly feeling of ecstasy. Our faces were wet with our saliva as he slowly moved his lips back and forth across my slippery cheeks, “You are delicious, Oliver. I could eat you with a spoon.”  He undid his pants and, taking hold of my hand, he pushed it down the front of his pants. My first feel of another boy’s erection felt exactly like mine, but knowing it was his made me blow out little puffs of air, little bursts of air as I stroked his wonderful cock.  

“Harder Oliver, faster! Ah ahh, ahhh….”  And his cock erupted up between us. Cum on both our T-shirts, me breathing hard all through it. In a breathy voice, Cris said, “Oh, shit, look at the mess I made, and Oliver, you did it again in your pants, you horny boy. Ya better clean that cum out of your pants again or you’ll be eating dinner with a big wet spot on the front of them.”

I wiped inside my underpants as Cris muttered, “I’ll get us a couple of clean T-shirts to wear.” He was laughing again. We shared a cold Coke, each wearing one of Cris’ clean T-shirts. Refreshed, we went outside to a beautiful Spring night.  As we approached the outdoor Mall, I clumsily half-stepped off a curb and tripped badly on a broken sewer grate. I went down like I was shot. The pain in my ankle was piercing and it was so bad I couldn’t even scream out at first.  

Then I cursed, “God damn it!  Fuck!” as I tried to get up. Cris was trying to help, but the pain was too intense right then. It took a minute for me even to pull myself up enough so that I could sit on the curb.  I had my leg with the wounded ankle stretched out in front of me, wanting to cry like a baby from the pain, but that was out of the question, of course.  

Cris was asking me stuff, but I couldn’t focus on what he was saying. Kneeling next to me, he asked what he could do to help. The shrill pain in my ankle was down to a throbbing ache, and I could handle that, so I said, “Oh man, I’m sorry, but I couldn’t talk for a minute there. Jesus Christ, I never had anything hurt like that before. Would ya help me stand?”  

Cris grabbed under my armpits from behind and pulled me up, but I couldn’t put any pressure on the foot with the hurt ankle. He held on to me, and with me hopping on my good foot, we got over to a low brick wall and I sat on it.   Cris took out his cell phone and called his roommate, who quickly showed up in a brand-new Mini Cooper convertible. The roommate was only five-foot-three inches tall/short, and he weighed maybe a hundred and fifty pounds, but most of it appeared to be muscle. pounds.    

His T-shirt bulged with muscles. His head was shaved and he had many, many tattoos. Every one of his fingers had a ring on it, including his thumb. He looked scary, but when we were introduced, he was the nicest guy you’d ever hoped to meet. His name was Davis Moore, and he picked me up and put me in the front passenger seat of his Mini convertible as easily as doing that with a bag of groceries.  

Cris had to get in the tiny back seat, but with Davis being so short, the driver’s seat was way up, giving Cris a little leg room in the back. My seat was pushed all the way back so I could stretch out my leg with the injured ankle. It was kind of weird, but the Mini is a very small car, so Cris and I were almost sitting next to each other—me in the front, he in the back. 

Davis drove us to a hospital emergency room and both guys helped me hobble in. Amazingly, even with a full room of patients who all needed attention, we got immediate admittance without even checking in at the front desk. I realized why we got that special treatment when the beautiful emergency room doctor came right over to us, kissed Cris, and said, “Hi, Baby.  I hear your boyfriend has a boo-boo.”  

Then she said, “Davis, did you get another fucking tattoo?” Davis said, “I got two more since I last saw you, Dr Juarez.” Dr Juarez? I’m no genius, but even I can figure out that the doctor was Cris’ mother. After a quick X-ray determined that there were no broken bones, she felt around my ankle and said I had a number-one-level sprain. “Not too bad at all,” she said. 

Well, maybe not for her, but it hurt me quite a lot. She expertly wrapped my ankle in an ACE bandage and then instructed a nurse to wrap my ankle bandage with a chemical cold pack. Jesus, that thing got cold! The nurse also gave me some cheap-looking crutches and told me to stay off the ankle until it stopped hurting, which would probably be four to ten days.  

They were all very blase about my ankle sprain. While Dr. Juarez did not seem to think my injury very interesting; she was very interested in questioning Cristobal about why he hadn’t shown up for Sunday dinner last weekend. Also, she wanted to know what kind of grades did he think he’d be getting this semester, and was I his latest boyfriend, and how old was I because, “He don’t look eighteen, Christobal, and you better not fuck around with under-age boys or I’ll do surgery on your private parts.”

She was fun and funny. Davis and I exchanged looks because it was like we weren’t even there. Everything was light banter back and forth between Cris and his doctor mother. Cris was comfortable with the whole scene and so was his mother. They were having a good time. When we were done, she kissed Cris again and said, “He’s your cutest boyfriend yet. Hope you can keep him longer than you managed to hold on to Mikey!” 

When we were leaving, she said it was wonderful to meet me, and said bye to Davis, and then she said, “Now I better rush off to take care of my real emergency room patients.” The entire episode took only ten minutes, then Davis drove us to the Holiday Inn, and Cris said, “Davis, thanks, man!  I owe you one. I’ll take the train back to school after I get Oliver settled, and thanks, you scary-looking fucker!” 

I thanked Davis too, but he just waved it off and said to Cris, “Shall I hold my breath until you get back to the dorm, Juarez?”  

Cris laughed and said, “Maybe you better not.  See ya later dude.”   

I guessed that Davis was assuming that Cris was going to stay with me in my room for quite a while. I sure hope so. Cris was carrying something in a brown paper bag as we headed for the front door to the Holiday Inn. Me hobbling along on crutches. We had to use the elevator because there wasn’t any way I’d be able to negotiate three floors of stairs on these crutches. Luck was with me again and I didn’t run into anybody I knew.  By the time we got to my room, it was almost seven o’clock.  

Inside, Cris nodded his approval of the room, helped get me seated, and then picked up the room service menu and said, “I promised you dinner, Oliver, and dinner you shall have. What do you want?”  

We settled on a large cheese pizza and a couple of orders of Honey BAR-B-Q chicken wings. While we were waiting, he took two bottles of red wine out of the paper bag, saying, “In our house, we drink wine with dinner. I had my first glass of wine when I was thirteen years old. Every dinner since then, when I’m home, I have wine with the evening meal. Do you drink anything?”  

I told him I didn’t but wanted to try it with him. He poured wine into the plastic cups he found in the bathroom. It was not good, but I forced it down because I wanted to be like Cristobal. I loved being with him. He was so relaxed and easy-going it was very soothing to me, and allowed me to relax. He asked how my ankle was, if I liked the wine, if I would like him to turn on the TV, or some music maybe?  

Oh my God, he was so nice to me. We settled on music, drank our wine, and ate our pizza and chicken wings. One thing led to another and I told him about my lousy High School experience.  He gave me his total attention, making it seem what I said was the most interesting and most important thing he’d ever heard. Going back in my life history, I finally got to the Tyler part.  He said he’d wondered how old I was when I knew I was gay. That made me realize I’d never asked him how he knew, or why he just assumed I was gay. I wanted to ask, but I didn’t. 

He told me that he’d known he was gay very early in his life.  Maybe as young as nine or ten years old. He and his parents discussed it with him endlessly.  As the years went on, the three of them agreed that, yes, indeed, Cristobal was gay. No problem. They provided all the medical information about AIDS and other medical concerns regarding homosexual sex, as well as a lot of gay literature for him to peruse when he felt like it. 

Cris attended private schools from first grade through High School. Being gay was simply not an issue. He’d had a wonderful childhood, and all was good, blah, blah, blah. He’s had a wonderful life, the opposite of mine. As he talked, he ran water in the bathtub and said we were going to take a bath together.  

I was a bit shy at first, getting naked in front of Cris, but, as it turned out, he was so casual about it that I just followed his lead. He made no comment about my skinny body, maybe because he had a skinny body too. We both were uncut and average size in the dick department. There was nothing special to comment on until he was helping me get in the tub; his naked body rubbing my naked body caused me to spring a boner. Cris was laughing so hard, “You are the horniest guy on the fucking planet, Oliver.”   

Cris climbed into the tub behind me and I lay back against his chest.  Cris said, “This is nice, Oliver.” 

He’d made sure both our plastic cups of wine and the wine bottle were close by. We were on the second bottle by now, and I was getting used to drinking it. I’m not saying it tasted any better, but I could get it down easier now than I could at first. Cris wanted to hear more about Tyler, and I talked about him for a long time. We were ready to get out of the tub when I was done.  

We lay naked on the bed under the top sheet, the wine long gone and I felt fuzzy from it, although Cris had had twice as much to drink as me. He had his arms around me and I took his right arm and rubbed the back of his wrist against my nose to smell the unique, sexy odor of his skin. Telling Cris my sad tale helped me to see that getting over it wasn’t an impossible mountain to climb, not anymore. I realized that I was, in fact, getting on with my life and that I had been getting on with it for some time now.  I will never forget Tyler, my best friend ever and also my first true love and I’ll never forget the tragedy of his death at so young an age and for such a stupid reason, but I can see that I’m able to move on with my life now. 

We lay there together, Cristobal and me, and I thought there wasn’t any place else in the world that I’d rather be. In a quiet voice, while playing with a piece of my hair, Cristobal said, “Oliver, can I be the first guy to make love to you? Can I be the one to take your ‘cherry,’ so to speak?  I really would love to be that person.”  

I didn’t hesitate and just nodded once. He said, “Can it be now?”  I said, “Yes, please.” He kissed me and rubbed his hand on my belly and down into my pubes. He massaged my cock and balls until they were stiff and hard. While he was casually massaging my cock and balls, he was telling me that he had a lubed condom in his jeans that he’d use.  He gave me a little lecture about the importance of using condoms for anal sex. He said he’d never had sex even once without a condom, then I said,  “Since I’ve never had sex of any kind with anybody besides myself, and since you never fucked anyone without a condom; well, wouldn’t it be safe for us to do it just this one time without a condom?”    

I told him I’d really like to have him inside me, a part of his naked body inside my naked body. At this point, we were lying on our backs, with me using Cristobal’s bicep as a pillow. He continued to twirl a strand of my hair with his fingers. It was comfortable with just the sheet covering us. I was in a constant state of arousal. “Okay, Oliver. No condom for the first time in my life. A first time doing anal sex it’s a must you use lubricant. It’s a must for me to use it every time. We’ll use the lubricant from the condom.”

My heart was pounding with excitement Cris hopped up and got the condom. Back in bed, he said, “Let me have a little more of those tasty, hot lips, of yours,” and we began kissing gently.  Cris said he could feel my heart beating fast and he said he was very excited about our first time together, too. Lie on your side, Oliver, and I’ll put some of this condom lube on that tight little hole of yours.”  

As he wiped slippery lubricant on my asshole and is dick, I got even more excited and aroused than I expected. Finally, my wish is coming true. Finally, something I’d been dreaming about for years was about to happen. Cris worked his finger up inside me and I was already squirming from that pleasurable feeling.  Just being handled like that by another boy was such an exciting turn-on for me, especially because it was Cristobal.  

On my side with my knees pulled up to my chest, I felt the fat head of his cock pushing gently up against my hole. He applied a little more pressure and it slipped tightly inside me. Immediately, a string of pre cum drooled down my boner.  My mouth was open, and knowing Cris’ cock was inside me had me shivering and squirming and constantly licking my lips.  

My chin was soon shiny with my own spit. He pushed in ever so slowly and I felt almost no pain, just this feeling of being very filled-up back there. It felt like Cris was sticking a foot-long log in me but I knew it wasn’t quite six inches long. I could hear Cris let a lot of air out of his lungs every now and then and grunt softly as he enjoyed that feeling of a tight hole surrounding his throbbing, hard cock.. He said in a breathy voice, “Oliver, I’m all the way in you.  How does it feel?”  

I told him it was the strangest feeling, but I’ve never felt anything I liked better. He kissed the side of my face and said, “Turn your head, Oliver, so we can kiss.”  As we kissed, he pulled his cock out a little bit and pushed it back in and everything was feeling totally dreamy to me. Then he pulled out further and the swollen, slippery head pushed on my prostrate button as he slid in and out of me.  

“Ahhh, right there, Cris, oh my God, Cristobal.” He stimulated my prostrate with quick thrusts of his hard, swollen cock head, and in less than two minutes I squealed out as I climaxed harder than I’d ever cum before in my life.  My cum shot straight out of my pee slit and it burned from the force of the stream. The tightening of my ring as I shot off the big load, and the five or six follow-up squirts had Cristobal grunting and blowing a lot of air on the back of my head as he pumped my hole hard. I soon felt his first strong cum stream explode deep inside me and then I felt how squishy my rectum was.

I’m shaking and shuddering as cum drooled out of my asshole. I was in such ecstasy I couldn’t talk. I felt sweat on Cristobal’s face as he pressed his face next to mine and hugged me tightly. We murmured words of affection and snuggled, trying to avoid the cum splatters around us, giggling and feeling wonderful.

Later that night Cris fucked me while I lay on my back with my knees pulled back next to my chest.  He was kneeling between my legs. From time to time, he would lay on top of me, belly to belly, with his hard cock as far up me as he could get it. We’d kiss and suck on each other’s tongues as our bellies moved together, all sweaty and slippery. This naturally, got my twitching cock which was squeezed between our bellies, and when I’d start to think that nothing could feel better than this, he’d go up on his knees and, holding both my thighs, with my feet now up on either side of his beautiful face, he’d fuck me hard for a couple of minutes until he was out of breath. Then he’d pump me slowly with long, deep thrusts, and it all felt so slippery and perfect.

We’d gone much longer the second time before our exploding climaxes, fabulous orgasms. Cris didn’t use a condom this time either and I felt the cum squeezing out around his cock, drooling down my buttocks, as he pumped me slowly after his big cummy climax. Truly, I’ve had hundreds of fantasies about a cute guy fucking me, but I never dreamed it would ever feel this good. I loved looking at Cristabol as he fucked me so that, later, when he did me a third time very early in the morning, he did me the same way so we could look at each other’s faces.  He did deep, slow thrusts for a long time and it was the perfect erotic experience, no hurry,  just that juicy, sexy feeling that you hope will go on forever.   But, eventually, there is an impossibly fabulous feeling in your groin, and the ensuing climax totally overwhelms every nerve ending in your body, and you try to take in as much of it as possible.  Nothing in life feels as good, and I’ve never felt as close to another person, not even with Tyler.

Life is tricky and unpredictable, but if I hadn’t had that trip off the curb and sprained my ankle, we never would have had the opportunity to spend those hours together in my room. Cristobal had told me when we were in the bathtub that he would be traveling in Europe most of the summer. The European trip was sponsored by the University and had been planned in January.  It was paid for in advance and there was no getting out of it even if he wanted to, which he didn’t want to, anyway.  It’s just that we wouldn’t be able to see each other until the Fall when I start my Freshman year at the University.  

Cris and I were the same age. He was one year ahead of me in college because I had stayed out of the ninth grade that year after Tyler’s death. After that early morning fuck, we had both quickly fallen back to sleep. When I woke up a few hours later Cris was in the bathroom showering.  I pulled his pillow over to me and sunk my face into it to smell his unique special smell.  He came out of the bathroom all shiny clean wearing a pair of my socks and a pair of my boxer shorts.  He put the T-shirt and jeans he wore yesterday back on and came over to the bed.  

We hadn’t said a word while he was dressing, but we kept looking at each other. Cristobal finally said, “Parting is such sweet sorrow, Oliver.  What the hell does that mean anyway?  Listen, I wish I had the right words to say to you, but I’m not very good at this. Just let me say that in the short time I’ve known you, it’s become obvious to me that you are a very special person and I want to continue to get to know you better and better.  I’ve had sex with only three guys, you being the third. You mean ten times more to me than the other two put together. You and me have something together that is extra special and unique, so please don’t forget me.”

“Forget you? I’ll remember you for the rest of my life!”

Smiling, he says, “That’s sweet!  I can’t wait until the fall when I’ll be back here at the University with you. I can’t wait to see your cute face and kiss you again.”  

He bent down and kissed my forehead and held the kiss for a while. I had the studders again when I tried to speak and Christobal put his finger gently on my two lips and went..”Shhhh, don’t say anything, Oliver.  You’ll have me crying. I know how you feel about me and it’s right back at you. Kiss me goodbye, Oliver, and remember, our goodbye means we’ll see each other in a few months.”  

We kissed a sweet kiss and he walked out the door without looking back. I lay here hugging his pillow thinking that dreams do come true, and for the first time in as long as I can remember, I was looking forward to all my tomorrows…

To be continued…