Friday, October 21, 2011

BUNK BEDS

 BUNK BEDS



By Mike Hicks

Andy's dick hung inches from my mouth every night before be jumped up into the bunk bed above mine. He couldn't see me watching him as he stripped; our dorm room was so tiny, his face stayed out of view unless he bent over. It was a brief glimpse, just the few seconds between the time his huge thing flopped out of his briefs and the moment it disappeared when he jumped up to his perch on top. Occasionally, when I got lucky, his dick would dangle a bit longer if he stood by the bed before getting in — like he was studying something up there and had no idea I was lurking below, wide awake — holding my own dick under the sheet.

On those nights he'd sometimes reach down and scratch one of his low-slung nuts. Or absentmindedly give his soft shaft a little tug. Or rock his hips to some tune playing only in his mind, making that heavy thing wag, and in the process throwing a blast of his sharp, musky scent into my nostrils where it triggered a direct electrical connection from the front of my body down to my crotch.


He was as close to being a stranger as a roommate could be. Andy was an art major. I was pre-med. There was little reason for us to interact apart from discussing whose week it was to vacuum. In addition to that, I was a habitual early riser and he always came in late. He usually woke me when he got in, unless I was already up and getting ready for the day.

The night before Christmas break started, he got in even later than usual. It must've been the clinking metal of his belt buckle that woke me. I opened my eyes just in time to get an unobstructed rear view as he bent over to pick up his underwear.

Andy's ass was two mounds of hard Italian marble, made luminous by the full moon that poured in through the open curtain. As he leaned down they spread open just enough to reveal a hint of honey-colored hair in the crack. I touched my hardening prick as he turned to approach the bed. My heart skipped a beat.

He had an erection, and the fucker was huge.

It was bigger than I'd imagined It would be — and I'd estimated high. He came toward the bunk and leaned up against it, invading my space with that stiff boner. He stood there motionless, engrossed in something on the bed — from the way his prick surged every few seconds, maybe a Playboy. A drop of juice materialized in his penis’ piss slit.

Maybe he'd like it if I touched it, I considered. Maybe he even wanted me to. It was possible.

The tear of pre-come fell and landed on my chest missing my right nipple by an inch. The liquid was surprisingly hot and for one moment my lust overcame my self-control as I reached for his crotch. Almost immediately, reason got the better of me, and I stopped halfway, bringing my hand back to its place on my own stiff stalk. Better not try it after all, I thought. I'd waited a lot longer than I ever figured I'd have to for my first man-on-man sex. One thing I was sure about was that I didn't want my first time to be spent servicing a non-reciprocating straight guy; no matter how hot he was.

I should probably back up here and explain that I wasn't a virgin at 19 by choice or for lack of opportunities. I'd been the object of two boy crushes back in high school, and I could easily have fucked either of them. The reason I didn't was the whole crush thing. I knew, even back then, that I had been born without the romance gene, and I liked that just fine. See. I'm not one of those boys whose homosexuality dawned on him after a long spiritual struggle or from some deep yearning for male companionship like you see in all those coming out movies. With me it was a lot simpler: First time I saw a grown man naked I knew I wanted some cock and butt. And if our horse-hung coach hadn't decided to shower with the team one fateful day, it might've taken me a little longer to figure it out. Well, maybe a week or so more.

Call me shallow, but all I was after was some hot fuck and suck, and I knew somewhere in the world outside our small town there were other men like me. It was a potentially frustrating situation for an exceptionally randy young man like myself, but I took it as an opportunity, using the last few years of my teens to get ready for the fuck-fest I naively figured would happen as soon as I escaped to college.

1 started intensifying my workouts, and made myself as user-friendly for sex as a young man can get with nothing but his mother's vegetable drawer for resources; though I was technically a virgin when I got on the bus for state college. I had a body that was built as they say, for sin, and I could handle eight thick inches — in whichever orifice you wanted.

Even so. the fleshy stalk being waved right in front of me that Friday before Christmas looked like a challenge.

Andy hadn't budged. I gulped involuntarily, hoping be didn't hear, all the while burning the image of his erect penis into my memory for later reference. When, after what seemed like five minutes, he finally made a move. It wasn't to climb into his bed.

Instead, he raised his leg and his foot moved over me, descending — just like he was aiming for my crotch. He couldn't have been aiming for anything else. He came close, touching the inside of my right thigh through the bed sheet, felt around with his toes to establish his location and then followed my inner leg up to my nuts. I pulled the sheet down to give him better access. He found my balls and spread his big toe and the one next to it to grasp the base of my boner. He clenched and released a couple times.

I took that as quite the clear sign that touching him would be OK. I reached out for my first feel of aroused male genitals. His dick's flesh was hotter than I'd Imagined it would be. I encircled the skin just below his cock head with my fingers and felt it swell.

Andy bent over till his face appeared under the top bunk. "Well!" he said with a smile. "It's about time." He put his hand on mine and guided it down the shaft to his balls. "Hell I've been offering it to you every night Mike, but you were too shy or somethin' . . ."

I sat up on the edge of the bed to get my face closer to it and I looked up at him. "I’m not shy," I told him, moving my nose toward his bush and burying it there. "I just figured that you were straight."

He chuckled. "You figured wrong."

I took in a deep breath of him. He put his hand on my head and directed it toward the tip. I sucked the bulb into my mouth and ran my tongue around the swollen ridge, surprised by the rhythmic surging I was able to induce with my tongue. His juice was salty. At that moment I swore off cucumbers forever.

I held his cock at its thick base and started going down, pausing halfway to back off, then almost deep-throating him on the second swallow. I kept his dick down my throat for a long time. I hadn't counted on a man's crotch smell to be such a part of the turn-on-and it wasn't until a few men later that I realized that Andy's was uniquely strong. It was like a force field of male aroma that extended several feet in all directions from his groin, rendering anyone helpless who was lucky enough to enter that zone.

He pulled out after a couple more strokes and let it slide around on my lips. 'My turn." he said.

I stood and braced myself against the upper bunk, while he sat down on the edge of mine. "You're thick," he noted.

"Sorry."

"Don't be sorry. Thick is good!" He smiled and opened wide. "Real good." The wet cavern of his mouth on my knob was a revelation. He took it down slowly, lovingly even, giving me a new sensation with each fraction of an inch he consumed. His pretty lips stretched completely by the time he got it all down, but he held it there and swallowed repeatedly. The convulsion of his throat down the length of my shaft was the first of several new kinds of pleasure he showed me, along with his fingers reaching up to press my nipples, and the warmth of his hand cupping and massaging my ball bag. He began moving up and down the shaft, pausing to hold it all down his throat for a moment whenever his nose reached my bush, then giving me a wet flourish with his tongue every time he got back to the head. I lost track of time.

I pulled him off my dick when I could feel myself getting close. He held that spit-basted meat in his hand gently enough to keep it from squirting while be moved his mouth down to my right nut and sucked it in, letting it linger in the wet warmth while he teased it with his tongue. The fingertips of his other hand traced circular patterns on my buttocks, moving closer to the crack with each round. I leaned forward against the upper bunk and widened my stance to open up for him.

His finger probed my bum cleavage while he let my right nut pop out of his mouth to concentrate his efforts on its twin. He gave a gurgle of pleasure when he located my asshole. He tapped it flat a couple times, then pressed. His finger popped in easily. He removed my nut from his mouth and looked up at me as he moved his finger in and out. A second one went in without a problem.

"So . . . you wanna fuck me?" I asked.

He pulled both fingers out and let them play on the clenching muscle. "I was kinda hoping you'd do me," he said with a grin.

I had no problem with that. "0K!” I said, heading down to join him in my bed. "Scoot over."

"Wait." he said. There's not enough space here. No head room, man. Let's go up to mine." He jumped up on the upper bunk and reached his hand to me. ”I’m guessing you've never tried to fuck in a lower bunk."

I grabbed his hand. "Urn, yeah, you could say that." Or anywhere else for that matter. He pulled me up to his roomier upper perch, then lay down on his back while 1 straddled his waist snaking my erection over him. He took the tip in his hand and played with the drip. The moonlight highlighted the muscles of his torso. He motioned me down to him like he wanted a kiss, but at that moment I was way more interested in his other end. In one deft move I took him by the waist and flipped him over, then raised him up to his knees with his ass in the air.

"Easy, buddy." he said. "You're an eager one, aren't ya!"

"Uh-huh." I acknowledged, figuring there was no shame in that. I grabbed a handful of each cheek and spread them open. That light-brown hair I'd only furtively glimpsed before turned out to be a wisp of fur that began an inch past the top of his cleavage and got slightly denser on its way down toward his balls. His asshole stood out in the midst of the thatch: bright pink, tiny and, amazing to me: wet. I touched it. It kissed my finger with a pulsating wink. I ran my finger once around the rim and then stuck it in.

He winced like it hurt but whispered. "Yeah, do that. Do that!"

He moved his hips back and forth in time with my finger-fucking. He was burning hot inside and was so tight I wondered if my cock would fit.

"Fuck me now, Mike!" he said. "Fuck me, please."

I tossed him onto his back. He reached under his pillow and found a rubber, opened it with his teeth, and unrolled it onto my cock. He stuck the pillow under his butt to raise it up and grabbed his ankles. I let my pride head rest on his warm pucker and slid it around in the moisture. He nodded anxious approval. I pushed but couldn't make the little bud open up.

"Push harder." he said. "It's OK! Really."

I grabbed his hips for leverage and rammed it. He let out a loud grunt when it popped in and kept moaning as I went further, his voice subsiding slowly as 1 pressed into him. The feeling of being that deep inside a man, of being held tight by his hungry asshole, was better than I’d ever imagined. And I'd thought about it a lot.

"Now fuck me." he said.

I started rocking in and out, just an inch or so at first, then more. When I saw that hard fucking didn't hurt him — or that if it did hurt he liked it — I let loose and pounded my hard poker into him, grinding my pubes into his crack, sometimes letting it slip out and slide around on his asshole a bit before plunging it back in. I swear, it fell like it just sucked me inside him.

When I approached the point of no return, I pulled out of him with a wet pop. He reached for my nipples. I rolled off the condom. He bent forward and spat on my cock. I returned the favor. He relaxed back onto the bed as I sat back on my haunches. We locked eyes while we masturbated using each other's spit for lube.

He came first, clenching his abs so tightly that every muscle stood out while he slimed them with translucent gobs of white man milk. The sight of him unloading made my nuts draw up tight, driving the almost unbearable sensation to the head of my dick, I rose up onto my knees and let it spew, mixing my jism with his all over his belly, shuddering until I stopped, milking the last drop or two out before I collapsed onto the bed next to him and let out the most satisfied sigh of my life.

I turned to face the wall. He did the same, encircling me in his arms from behind and finding a nook for his softening prick in the crack of my ass. I guess that's what they call spooning, I thought as I drifted off to sleep.

I abruptly woke up while dreaming that mosquitoes were biting the back of my neck. The annoying sensation seemed to continue even after I opened my eyes. Took me a minute to figure out what it was: Andy was kissing me back there.

"You awake, Mike?" he asked.

"I am now."

"You know," he said, touching his finger to my shoulder and running it down my bicep. "I should tell you . . ."

I tensed up a bit. I wasn't crazy about his tone. "What?"

He brought his mouth to my ear. His breath was hot. The first time I saw you, I — you'll probably think I'm silly . . ."

I was hoping he was waiting for me to say "No, you're not," and that my lack of response would shut him up. No such luck.

He went on. "But I think I kinda fell in love with you that day. I was kind of afraid to say anything." I felt his lips again on my neck.

I mouthed a silent Fuck! It was, as I told you before, the last thing I wanted to hear. I mean, he was a dynamite first fuck, the fulfillment of all my admittedly shallow dreams. But if he had something other than sex in mind. I needed to nip that idea in the bud, and sooner rather than later.

I wiggled around to face him. He looked at me expectantly.

"How about you. Mike?"

The dried semen on his chest twinkled in the moonlight like tinsel on a Christmas tree. He had a boner again already, and hell, it sure looked good enough to eat! I did a quick assessment of the situation, weighing the advantages of having Andy's big dick to play with the rest of the school year or not. I made a decision: "Me too." I said, reaching for it. "Oh yeah, baby, me too."




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