The damn university, it hadn't burned down. Not like I expected it to, but a guy's gotta dream, right? I mean, don't get me wrong, I love a good book, I love talking about a good book, and even, when someone asks me nicely, I'll write a fucking good paper on a good book. But damn, I hate classes and living in the god-damn dorm.
Yeah, so, September. My second year. How did I survive the first? I smoked a ton of weed, that's how. Oh and I had an awesome thing with Mandy who was really sweet and...well. She broke my fuckin' heart, is what she did. I can't blame her. She got an amazing opportunity to go to Harvard. Harvard! How the fuck did that happen? But she kinda had to go. But it hurt. All those poems all those dudes wrote say it all: Love hurts.
So here I am. The room looks the same as last year. Different floor, same shit. I just hoped my roommate was nothing like Anton. Fuck, Anton. A real dude: all board shorts and beer, going on about how much pussy he'd been getting. He used to walk around in his baggy boxers with his junk almost hanging out. It was distracting and annoying. Have some decency!
That was the other reason I kept myself baked most of last year. And to distract me from his smelly socks. Fuck! Use the laundry now and then. Guys like that...well, they give us a bad name. My brother thought he was an asshole and probably a closet case. He should know, being the coolest dude – not just the coolest gay dude – I know. My brother is a prince.
I was sitting on the bed looking around the room feeling like I'd just been sent to prison, when I heard someone coming up the stairs at the end of the hall. I mean someone having a rough time: like they were bringing up a dead body. I went out to the top of the stairs and saw this guy carrying a big suitcase, wearing a backpack almost as big. His blonde hair was sweaty and his face the colour of a tomato.
Poor guy, I knew the feeling. Fuckin' elevators never work in this place. “Hey...you need help with that?”
He looked up at me all scared, like I was aiming a gun at his face, but he said “Uh, sure. That would be...”
I reached around and grabbed his pack which felt like it was full of rocks. “What have you got in here?”
“Oh...books, I guess...
I had to laugh. I knew something about that. The dude is a reader which you gotta respect, right? He made it to the top of the stairs and dropped his suitcase, taking a breath. He was taller than I thought, all lean and strong and his shoulders seemed built for swimming. A bit of an jock in disguise..
I stuck out my hand. “Sam. Welcome to Hell.”
The guy just looked at me like I was speaking Russian but then he smiled like spring just came after a fuckin' long winter. “Mark.”
“So Mark, which cell...I mean which room - you headed to?
He looked confused, then he dug in his jeans and pulled out a damp piece of paper. He looked at it, then pulled it closer to his face. “5C” He looked up at me, his five-hundred watt smile back.
Someone up there was looking out for me. “Well dude, that's easy. You're with me! This-a-way.”
He picked up his bag, and I could hear him making sounds like he was on a chain gang. The dude really needed luggage on wheels. When we were in the room, I pointed to the empty bed. “that would be you, if that's cool.”
His answer was a kind of grunt and he threw himself on the bed, just staring at the ceiling which I knew wasn't that interesting.
“So you in first year?”
He looked over at me. His hair looked all, I Survived a Hurricane and it was almost covering one eye. “Yeah. What about you?”
“Year two. I made it through last year, so take that as a good sign.”
“I guess...what's your major?”
“Can you believe it? Philosophy. What the fuck was I thinking?” He stared at me and I swear he didn't believe me. I get that a lot. “So all those books in the backpack of yours are...?”
“Well, I thought I better bring...I mean, I'm in English, so...”
“Right. So like Dickens and all that shit. No offence to Charles, but you get me, right?”
That smile showed up like a scared rabbit then was gone. The dude would have the girls lapping at his feet...or other places. But I had a feeling about that. When your brother...well, you get the picture.
I smiled back at him. He took a big sigh and wiped his forehead which was all damp. He looked at me a second then at the wall beside him. This guy's got some anxiety issues. I sat on my bed, thinking, I gotta be gentle with this one. “So why don't we get all our shit put away and go find some lunch?”
Getting some food into Mark seemed to do the trick. He loosened up and downed a burrito, then another. He wanted a full report on the place.
“There's a pool?” He looked happy and the glare from his smile was intense. But I wasn't surprised. All those smooth muscles – what else are they good for? “Yeah, it's pretty sweet. It's over by the library...another place I bet you'll spend way too much time in.”
I'm pretty sure I made the guy squirm and I felt like a shit. “Hey man, libraries rule. I've lost a few days there myself reading Plato with only one coffee in me. Oh, and there's a coffee shop there – you'll need it. You know what they called it?” He shook his head like a little kid. “The Perking Lot!”
Mark has the kind of laugh that would cheer up a fuckin' stone. Way cool.
We went on a little tour of campus and I felt like the most useless cruise director around. But I clocked something in this guy. He doesn't miss anything, like he was a spy casing an enemy country or something. He did it to me cause I caught him checking me out a few times. I don't miss much, either, so two can play that game.
We made it back to our room and we hung out for a while. It took some poking, but I got him to tell me a few things. Toronto, no mother, a shitty dad. I think he was pretty happy to have got away.
“What about you?”
I should have known that was coming. Fair is fair. “Oh, that old story. You know: two parents, a brother, a big fuckin' house.”
I could tell he was thinking, like there were wheels turning in the guy's head. “What's your brother like?”
“What's he like? He's the best. He graduated from here two years ago, lucky fucker. He and his boyfriend live in Ottawa.”
I threw in that little morsel to see what would happen and sure enough I could see him get all tense. But I decided to let it go. I hardly knew the guy.
We shot the shit for the rest of the afternoon. For such a quiet dude, he had a lot going on in that head of his. But talking to him was...easy. I mean I can talk to anyone, but at one point I was talking about public school – which sucked – and I said, “...and my parents were all fucked up in those days. Too much booze and shit...” then I stopped like I hit a brick wall or something. Why in hell was I telling him that? I took a quick detour. “...and anyway, grade three was the worst. Mrs Fucking Campbell. She was a witch...”
I tried not to look at the guy, but I could feel his deep-sea eyes on me. My big mouth. Time to turn that page. I looked at my phone.
“So, Mark...there's one of those lame-ass “lets-get-fuckin'-acquainted” things downstairs on the second floor. You want to come with?”
His looked at me for a moment and those goddamn tables fuckin' flipped right over. It was totally my turn, right? It's only fair. I deserved it. The assessor becomes the assessed. Finally he put me out of my misery and smiled like he knew all my shit. “Sure. I guess I need to start meeting people...”
We went downstairs and I needed a beer. Maybe two. We walked around and I introduced him to a few people: James, Sergio, Claire. They were the only ones I actually talked to last year. James is a cool dude. I tried to see if my brother and he would click, but my brother had his eyes on this other guy who he's still with. But some little lights went off my head. I wonder...
“Hey James...meet Mark, he's my roommate this year.”
James looked at Mark and I could tell he wanted to jump him right there. Whoa. Cool down buddy. But he was his usual James-self, all gracious and polite. James is complicated but the dude is smart as hell and really knows what he wants. We traded gossip and stories and I could tell James was going to go to be all over Mark.
We moved around the room, shooting the shite and Mark looked kind of stunned so I kept feeding him beer so he would loosen up. It was nice to see everyone – at least the ones I wanted to see: everyone else was kind of lame – but maybe, just maybe, this year would be better. Maybe I would hook up with someone. Maybe I wouldn't get dumped. That would be awesome, right?
We got back to the room at some hour in the early morning. I had gone outside with Mark and got him spliffed. Well I got us both spliffed, but he was a lightweight and I realized I had to be careful. He could barely walk as we made it upstairs. He collapsed on his bed and I swear he was out in a two minutes. I pulled off my clothes and I realized his breathing was almost, but not quite a snore, and he looked like a cat who found patch of sun and just flaked out. He had half taken off his shirt and his belly and part of his chest was bare. He had all this light hair everywhere...
I shut off the light by his bed and then slid into mine feeling buzzed. Getting stoned is the best, and with a few beer even better. But it makes me horny as fuck. I looked over at the dude to see what the odds of him waking up were. Fuck it.
I pulled off my underwear and enjoyed the air on my package which felt sweaty. I lay there floating on my high while my cock – right on time – chubbed up. I gave myself a few strokes, just sailing away on the good vibes. My dick and I, well we had a good relationship. Mandy always said I was closer to my schlong that I was to her. She was joking but I sometimes wonder. Speaking of Mandy...I thought of her smallish tits and her amazing, almost muscular ass. Her eyes. That got my second brain going and I could feel it getting stiffer in my fist. I checked out the head to see if I was drooling yet and yeah, there it was. Nice. I like a little self-lube and even more, I like the taste. I slipped my forefinger in my mouth. Sweet.
But you can only produce so much pre, right? I reached over into my side table and pulled out my lube. You gotta have lube. I gave myself a good squirt. Man, I love that slippery feeling. It's like being in someone all warm and slick. Fuck!
I looked over at Mark. He was on his side and I realized he had taken his shirt off. When had he done that? I froze. I know, two dudes sharing a room have to be discreet, have to pretend they don't hear the things they hear, but I didn't want to push it. I lay for a minute, feeling my heart pumping into my prick.
Mark was totally gone because the almost snore was now a full-on snore. I went back to a nice stroke, my cock really getting into it. I didn't even need to conjure up a nice picture or two. It was all about feeling. I grabbed my balls and gave them a pull and stroked a bit faster. I could feel a wet stream on my thumb. I was really down for this tonight. I raised my hips like I was fucking into someone. Mandy was slim and blonde and she liked it from below. I took a tighter grip on myself, starting to get some beats down on this little dance floor. I looked down at my cock, watching my hand do its work. I liked how we make our own juice that makes things nice and gooey. And I really do like the taste. It's my thing. I brought my fist to my mouth and gave myself a little tongue bath. That really got me going.
My fist was really moving now and the sticky sound was making my balls jump and even my asshole got into it, clenching up. I kept wondering if Mark could hear me which kind of turned up the volume on this whole jacking off thing, like him hearing me was way hot. I could feel the beginnings of something real nice happening in the head of my cock and I rode it like a fucking surfboard on a big-assed wave. I lifted my hips again, wishing to hell I was pounding into someone. I watched myself jack, watched my balls rattle around in tandem. I went for a nipple just to make things complete, giving it a good pinch and that was pretty much that.
I choked and a fuckin' boatload of fireworks went off him my cock that set off little bombs in my balls, in my ass, all up and down my back and a geyser of spooge hit my chest, splashed on my chin, and I felt it land on my lips. I squeezed my eyes shut as the wave kept coming and I had to brace myself like I was gonna fall apart. A few more spurts of cum poured out onto my belly and pooled in my navel, a little lake of nice cream.
I stopped moving, feeling the aftershocks. Man, that was a good one. One more time I checked the state of Mark. He was still on his side and still sawing away. The dude had a strong back, all smooth muscles and angles.
I looked down at the cum all over my chest. Wow. I must have cum a fuckin' litre of the stuff. I dipped my forefinger into the lake in my navel and licked it off. All guys taste their cum, right? How can you not? It's just there and it's yours, so why not give it a try?
With that salty, chlorine taste in my mouth, I reached down and grabbed my briefs and mopped myself up. I was like, I haven't shot that much in a while. It must have been the new school year and having a nice buzz. I threw the soaked underwear on the floor and shut my light off. I sighed like I just ran a marathon. Really chill. I always feel totally zen after. Like I can think better. Listening to Mark snore, I felt all warm and thought maybe, if all goes well, this might be a pretty chill year.
I woke up with sun on my face. My head was like telling me a story about how sore it was and what an idiot I was for having that fourth beer. Shut the fuck up. I opened my eyes and looked over. Mark's bed was empty but I could hear the shower. I was glad I had a few minutes to join the human race again. I remembered jacking off. Yeah, that was pretty nice. I could feel that some cum had crusted on my chest.
The bathroom opened and Mark came out with a towel around his waist. He looked like someone who had a rough night, his face pale and his eyes – so fucking blue/green – kind of red around the edges. Poor guy. I felt bad for corrupting him.
“Hey dude. You look like shit.”
He stopped and stared at me like he'd forgotten I was there. His hair was slicked back off his forehead and there were drops of water all down his chest. “I feel like shit. What was in that joint, anyway?”
I had to laugh. He was a lightweight. “Man, it was just a joint. It's not something you do much, am I right?”
He looked embarrassed, poor guy. “Not really...I mean...well, actually...”
“Your first time, right? Well I'm glad I took your THC virginity.”
He looked at me a second like I had something on my face. What was that all about?
I got up and walked to the bathroom and just as I closed the door, I realized I had flashed my ass at him. What the fuck? But I couldn't have put my underwear on anyway what with all the cum stains. No biggie. What else was I supposed to do?
I stood under the hot water for a while, feeling better by the second. Nothing like a good shower to clear the head. I wrapped myself up in a towel and went back to the room. Mark was sitting on his bed looking at his phone. He had put on a t-shirt and shorts. His hair was back to its usual all-over-the-place kind of thing. I went to my bed and realized my cum-crusted underwear was just lying there. Fuck. I picked it up mumbling, “Sorry, man. I shouldn't leave my stuff all over the place...” and I threw it in the laundry bag I keep by the bed.
Mark sounded tense, “Um...no problem...”
I looked at him and his face was red like a stop sign. Dude, I thought, you need to chill!
I pulled some clean briefs out of my dresser and dropped my towel. Having a roommate means they get a show whether you or they want it or not. At least my ass is, if I do say so myself, pretty fine.
I pulled on some shorts and sat on my bed. I could feel water still dripping from my head. You know sometimes it's kind of nice to be admired cause I could feel Mark trying really hard not to look below my face. My brother says gay guys don't worry about it with each other: they just admire what they're in to and get off on being admired. But for Mark...I didn't know what his deal was.
I pulled on a t-shirt and gave him my best shit-eating grin. “Dude. Let's find a greasy breakfast and a few pots of coffee. We'll be ready for anything.” I was happy to see a pale version of his gold-plated smile. Somewhere in a far-off part of my belly, a little Monarch butterfly landed on a flower and sat there, its wings flapping in the September breeze. I got up quickly and headed for the door.
