College Boy

By Macout Mann

Published on Aug 21, 2011

Gay

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The places in this story are real, but any similarity to actual persons or events is purely coincidental. This story also contains explicit sexual activity between males. If such is offensive to you, or if you are under the age that reading such material is illegal, please do not read further. Feedback is appreciated. macoutmann@yahoo.com.

COLLEGE BOY

By Macout Mann

The landscaping outfit I work for does business all over the Southern U.S. A couple of summers ago I was runnin' a crew in Lafayette, Louisiana. The job was for a big bank that wanted all their branches to be planted the same way, so people could tell which bank it was just by lookin' at the landscaping.

Our landscape architect was in charge of drawin' up the planting scheme; but I could make changes, if the customer had another idea. The bank guy in charge of the project told me that there was a office building over in Lake Charles that looked like he wanted his banks to look, but with the shrubs our guy had specified. I told him I'd go and take a look.

So while the crew finished the prep work on the first site, I went back to our motel, stripped off my shirt, and pulled on my favorite pair of Lee's. They were so threadbare I had to threaten my wife to keep her from tossin' them, whenever I put 'em in the wash. But they had holes in the right places and got more comfortable every time I put 'em on. I liked the way they showed off my equipment too. I went back into the Louisiana heat, got in the company pickup, and headed for Lake Charles.

The motel was on the street that turns into Interstate 49 at the junction of Interstate 10. Heading up toward I-10, I saw a kid with a backpack over on the sidewalk. I pulled over and asked him which way he was headed. "West," he said, so I told him to hop in.

It was less than 70 miles to Lake Charles, but I'm always glad to have company whenever I'm drivin'. I noticed he checked out my pecs and my pouch when he climbed in, but I didn't say anything. Lots of straight guys do the same thing. He sure wasn't your everyday hitchhiker, though. His new knit shirt had a polo player embroidered on it and his designer jeans cost somebody maybe a hundred bucks. The gear he'd thrown in the back of the truck was strictly first class too. He was a good lookin' boy. Brown eyes. Black hair. Smooth skin and hands that showed he'd never done any real work.

I told him my name was Ron. He said his was Eric. I asked him if he was startin' out from Lafayette, since he was just walkin' out toward the Interstate.

"No," he said, "I've been spending the summer hitching around the country.

"I spent a couple of days in New Orleans and took the bus out to Lafayette, because--well, to tell the truth--I was afraid to hitch out of New Orleans."

"Shit," I said, "New Orleans is just like any other place."

"But I would have had to go through some real rough neighborhoods."

"So what did you do in the Big Easy?" I asked.

"Last night I went to this club where they were having a dance contest," he replied excitedly. "There were some guys that really could dance!"

So I was right. He was gay.

I learned that Eric was on his way back to Provo, Utah, where he'd be a senior at Brigham Young. His next stop was goanna be Austin. The summer-long trip was to learn what "being on the road" was like. That was goanna be the subject of his senior thesis. Stephen, his roommate, had been 100% against his makin' the trip, and he said that he telephoned Stephen every night to let him know he was all right.

"You gotta be real close to Stephen then," I grinned.

"Oh yes, very close," he answered.

"You know, man," I volunteered, "stayin away from rough neighborhoods and livin off your folk's credit card aint no way to find out what the road is like. Guys on the road gotta live by their wits. Go hungry sometimes. Get dirty. Not have a fuckin' choice about where to sleep."

We talked about what the road is really like. I told him that unless you were an astronaut or somethin' that it was about the only adventure left in life. But you had to walk the walk.

He finally admitted that what he was doin' was really fantasy. He'd slept in a bed every night.

"You know," I said, "I'm goanna be over here in Lake Charles for a half hour at most, and I gotta motel room back in Lafayette. Trust me, I aint got no designs on your body, but you're welcome to spend the night with me.

"First thing tommorrow we'll go back to the bus station and ship your credit cards and all your other shit to Austin, except for your toothbrush, a couple a pairs of jeans and a Tshirt or two. You can take ten or twenty bucks for a real emergency, and you can call your roomie, whenever you want to. I'll drop you back on the freeway and you can see what the road is really like for a day or so.

"If you get to Austin and want to get back on Daddy's gravy train, you can. If you want to stay on the real road and have something real to write about, you can do that too."

He didn't say anything for several minutes, but when I started down the off-ramp the bank veepee told me to take, he said "It's crazy and a stupid thing to do, but I'll do it."

It took me about ten minutes to look over the site and make some notes. Then the two of us headed back to Lafayette.

"You're not gay, are you?" It was more statement than question. "I thought you might be when you picked me up."

"Well I have a wife I love to fuck and have kids by," I replied," but that don't mean I won't mess around with guys too. I started doin that when I was 16. I like sex and I go for whatever comes along."

He seemed really surprised.

"I didn't have sex with anybody until I was in college," he said. "Stephen was the only person I'd been with, until I went on this trip. It would really hurt him, if he knew I'd been unfaithful. But the temptations have been so great."

I thought the kid was goanna bawl. Then he changed the subject, sorta.

"I've never known anyone who liked both men and women," he continued.

"It's not so unusual," I said.

"I never wanted to date when I was in high school," he said. "That didn't bother my parents. They're really devout. That's why I went to Brigham Young. It would kill them, if they knew I was gay. They think Stephen is just a good friend. But when I met him, and he introduced me to..."

"To suckin' and fuckin'," I interjected.

"Yes. Well, I realized finally that I was gay. It was like a great load was lifted off me. But I'm still so ashamed. And especially now, since I've been with other men."

"Look, Eric," I said. "It aint none of my business. But you can't help what you are. Get rid of your fuckin' hangups and enjoy yourself.

"Hell, when you got in the truck, I saw you eyeing my bod and my dick print. Aint nothin wrong with that. I don't know what sorta shit you've been into on your trip, but aint nothin' wrong with that either. It's totally normal to be horny. And it's totally normal to look for satisfaction."

"Nobody ever told me anything like that," he responded. "It makes me feel some better, I guess."

"Have you ever thought about fuckin a woman?" I asked, laughing.

We continued to talk, until we arrived back at the motel. He brought his gear into my room; and although I swear I hadn't planned anything, Eric had a night of still newer adventures ahead.

I put on a shirt, and Eric and I went to a cheap Cajun restaurant the banker had put me onto. We had gumbo and a poboy, and Eric insisted on paying the check. I told him this would be the last time for awhile.

When we got back to the room, I pulled the drapes and stripped off like I always do.

"Gee, Ron," he said, "you don't wear underwear?"

"Hell no," I replied. "I've been a free baller since I was 12."

"I've never known anyone who didn't wear underwear."

"I don't even own any. Shit, kid, you've been too fuckin' sheltered all your life."

He said he and Stephen usually studied in their undies. But he still seemed reluctant, as he stripped down to his briefs and asked if he could call his lover. He used a phone card, and they talked for maybe ten minutes. Eric said that he'd decided to stay in Lafayette, because he'd got a late start from New Orleans. He didn't mention me, of course. But they did tell each other they loved each other and couldn't wait to be together again.

I had to call Ben, my #2, to find out how much they'd got done. He said they'd finished the prep work and were ready to start plantin' first thing in the morning. I said that I had to see the bank guy and that we were probably goanna make some changes. So I told him to take the crew to the second site and start to prep it, 'til I got over there.

While I was talkin to Ben, I noticed that Eric was staring at my bod, and I could see the outline of his semi-hard dick against his white briefs. I gotta admit I look pretty good for forty-something, a real T-shaped motherfucker with ample pecs and nice abs. "I don't care what I told you in the truck," I thought. "You're goanna get fucked tonight. In the face and in the ass."

"You have a beautiful dick, Ron," Eric began.

"Well, I've seen bigger, but I aint never been ashamed of mine," I quickly answered. That was a line I used a lot.

"If you don't stop starin at it," I continued, "it's goanna get hard."

"May I touch it?" he asked.

"Shit, kid, you can do a whole lot more than touch it."

He moved over to my chair, got on his knees, and cupped my hardening meat in his palm.

"It's so big," he exclaimed.

"The better to fuck you with," I replied. "Come on, Eric, eat that motherfucker."

His lips closed over my cut dickhead and slid down the full length of my shaft. Then he began to slowly, methodically heighten my passion. I don't know whether it was Stephen or the guys he'd met on the road that taught him his tricks, but damn, he knew how to suck dick.

"Oh god," I panted, "You're a good little cocksucker."

"Mmmm," was his only reply.

I was about ready to cum, when I pulled away. "I don't wanna cum yet," I said. "I wanna make it last."

I think he was shocked how easily I picked him up and put him on the bed.

"Years of hard work makes you strong," I told him. Then, ripping off his briefs, I said, "But right now I want to be tender."

He was slightly built, and his slender pole was thinner than mine, but big enough. I slid into the bed next to him. I don't kiss guys in the mouth, but I blew into his ear and tongued it, and then started my mouth's journey down his smooth, shaved body.

Stretched below my better developed bod, Eric seemed almost virginal, as he reacted to my every move.

"This make you hot?," I murmered, nibbling his nipples. "Too bad they don't give milk."

I reamed his navel, kissed every inch of his gut and thighs, and took each ball in my mouth. Finally I clamped my lips on his rigid dick.

"Oh, Ron," he moaned. "That feels so good."

I steadily sucked on his tool and his moaning became more urgent, until I drank every drop of his young cum. Then before he could do anything, my dick was over his face and I slid it into his mouth. "My turn again," I said.

I fucked his face slowly at first, until I felt his lips and tongue moving in time with my hips. Then I gradually increased the tempo. "You like having your face fucked do you?", I asked. He could only gurgle a reply, but I could tell he was in ecstasy. When I got down to the short strokes, I could feel his body quiver beneath mine, and as I dumped my two days' load down his throat, I could feel his cum squirting on my leg.

I rolled over and held him close. He was limp with pleasure and I was too.

After several minutes he said, "I've never experienced anything like that. It was wonderful."

"I've had a lot of practice," I responded. "And I'm not hung up about anything I do in bed with anybody. Not like one dude I know."

"I think I'm beginning to understand what you said about being myself and getting rid of my hangups," he replied. Then he asked, "What would you be doing tonight, if I weren't here?"

"Oh, I'd be out in some titty bar lookin to pick up a whore. Or out crusin,' lookin' for a gay stud. It'd depend on my mood. But right now you're here. And it's time for the main event. I'm goanna fuck that pretty ass of yours."

I repeated some of the foreplay I'd done earlier. I wanted him to be super hot. I didn't have any lube handy, so I told him to wet my dick real good, then I slathered his asshole with my spit. Then I touched my dickhead to his bunghole and got him used to the size before ramming it home. His spincter grabbed my prong, like it wanted it to stay hold on forever, and I laid motionless for a minute or two. Then I began fuckin his young ass with a passion I didn't know I still had. My climax seemed even bigger than the one before, and he was crying, not in pain but total pleasure as my cream dripped from his hole.

There was a little fridge in the room that I'd stocked with Milwaukee's Best. I went over and got a couple. Gave one to Eric. I put my arm around his naked body and fondled his now soft dick.

"I don't drink," he said.

"Suit yourself," I answered. "I don't want to lead a college boy astray."

I sucked on my beer in silence.

"Well....," he said after awhile, "I might as well see what it tastes like."

"You probably won't like it at first. But after awhile you may."

We'd had finished our second beer, when he asked, "Can I suck you again, Ron?"

"Shit," I said, "I'm about fifteen years older'n you. I need time to recharge. If you are game for a party, though, I can get you a couple of guys your own age."

Jerry, my boss, is gay. So it's no surprise that we have a lot of gay dudes workin' for us. Not that he discriminates. We have more straights than gays. More straights than gays around, after all. But a straight guy has to be pretty broadminded, if he wants to continue gettin' a paycheck. And gays also have to put up with a lot of shit. If a gay guy does something stupid, he can count on a co-worker grabbin his crotch and sayin something like, "Come here and suck this. That's all you're good for anyway." Generally we all go along and get along.

My six man crew in Lafayette had two gay guys on it. They were both 19 and tough as hell. Of course they'd chose to bunk together. I thought Eric would like to meet them, so after he agreed to my offer, I called their room.

"Jack," I said when the phone was answered, "I want you and Freddie to come over here. I've got somebody I want you to meet."

For me that was unusual. I generally don't screw around with co-workers after hours. But they quickly agreed to come.

Eric said he needed to get dressed, but I laughed and assured him that both of them had seen a dick before, if they hadn't been suckin on one, when I called.

A couple of minutes later, I let them in. They were both shirtless, their hard, bronzed bodies perfected by daily work in the sun.

"Well what the fuck is this?" Jack said, when they got into the room.

"I want y'all to meet Eric," I answered. "Eric, this is Jack and Freddie. I thought you'd like to get together."

"Wouldn't mind," Freddie said, eyeing Eric's hardening dick. He was sitting on the edge of the bed looking sort of uncomfortable.

"Eric's headed for Austin and I'm puttin' him up for the night," I volunteered.

"And you ran out of steam, old man, and he didn't," Jack teased.

"Well," I replied, "you can see my dick's soft as a marshmallow. And I can see both of yours' are tentin up pretty good."

Freddie moved over to the bed and sat next to my naked roommate. Jack continued to tease.

"So you're goanna sit over there and play with yourself and watch."

"Why not?" I replied. "It's my room."

"Fuckin' pervert."

Eric hadn't spoken since they came in. He'd been drinking in their beefy torsos, though, and they knew it.

"Come on, boy," Freddie said. "Feel what I got. I know you want it."

"Yes," Eric admitted, "I do." He tentatively touched Freddie's crotch, then started to massage the hardon he felt under the denim.

"Undo me!" Freddie ordered. Eric unbuttoned Freddie's 501s, and Freddie stood up and let his jeans fall to his ankles, his hard cock curving up from his scrotum. "You like that, don't you, motherfucker? Suck it!"

Without a word Eric took Freddie's dick in his mouth. Meanwhile, Jack had stripped and joined the other two boys, his dick pointing at Eric's face right next to Freddie's. "Can you eat us both? Take both our dicks, you motherfuckin' bitch," he taunted.

Eric first sucked Freddie, then Jack, and then took the heads of both their dicks in his mouth, before pulling away.

"Ron," he finally spoke, "I wasn't expecting this!"

"Maybe not," I said, "but aint you gettin your kicks?"

"He probably wants something in return,"Jack said. And pushing Eric back on the bed he took the full length of Eric's tool in his mouth. Freddie took advantage of the moment to complete the shedding of his jeans, slipped into the king sized bed, and maneuvered his body so he could suck Jack, while giving his dick back to Eric. Eric took it hungrily.

I gotta tell ya, I was enjoyin' watching the whole thing. And there wasn't any doubt Eric was enjoyin' himself even more.

The street smart boys on my crew were in complete control. After the circle suck, they took turns. One of them would stick it up Eric's ass and the other would fuck his face. Then one would suck, while the other would let Eric fuck his ass. The longer they fucked around the more abandoned Eric became.

It was late, when Jack and Freddie left. Especially for guys that had to get up for work at five the next morning. I got into the bed with Eric, not worrying about the cum soaked sheets. We went to sleep in each other's arms.

Sometime during the night I had a dream. I was fuckin' a beautiful woman. It was the best piece of pussy I'd ever had. But, as sometimes happens in dreams, something didn't seem quite right. I thought, "If this is so great, why aint my hips movin?"

I woke up to find Eric under the covers suckin like crazy. I relaxed and was almost asleep when I felt my cum once again fill his eager mouth.

Next morning, I took him to the bus station, made sure he'd shipped all his shit to Austin, then drove him back to the I-10 ramp. I wished him luck. He embraced me, gave my pouch one last feel, said he'd never forget last night; and we said goodbye. I drove to the first place I could turn around. By the time I reached the interstate again, he'd already caught a ride.

Copyright 2006, 2011 Macout Mann & Associates

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