The Wall
If you are under age, or live in an area where reading tales of male sex is illegal, or if you're not into this, please leave. These are stories of a few of trysts that began at a cruising area on my college campus referred to as The Wall. While the stories are basically true, I wasn't taking notes at the time, so some of the details are the product of artistic license, But that does not change the basic nature of the actual events. This all took place in a time when all sex was safe. It isn't now, so please respect yourself and others enough to always play safe. Comments are appreciated.
The Neighbor After the affair with Alfie and the sorry way I ended it, I avoided the wall. First, I was afraid of running into him and I knew I couldn't face him. Second, I realized that there was no way I was ready to have a relationship with someone on campus, I was not ready to come out, so why meet somebody else? But I did not give up sex altogether. I discovered that there was lots of action in the men's room in the basement of the library. There were glory holes between almost all of the booths and it didn't take me long to figure out what they were there for. Glory hole sex is totally anonymous, so I didn't have to worry about starting and screwing up a relationship, or even coming out. Unfortunately, bathroom sex was not a great turn-on for me, so I only went there when I was really in need.
Sophomore year, two friends and I sublet a garden apartment about a mile across the river from campus. Joe and Doug both had cars, so sometimes when our schedules coincided, I got a ride with one of them, but usually I walked. And the walk took me past the wall, twice a day, once coming, once going. And sometimes if I had a late class, I'd hang around a while before heading back to the apartment. On a couple of occasions, I let one of the younger drivers circling the block pick me up. I was trying to avoid other students. Both times, the guys drove to a nearby park, stopped in a secluded spot and gave me a quick, front seat blowjob. That was it, no kissing, no passion, and no excitement. Of course, an orgasm is always good, but I usually want more.
So one night I'd been at a club meeting and was heading home a little later than usual. I stopped at the wall for a few minutes and this young guy pulled up, rolled down the window and asked if I wanted to go for a ride. I hesitated, then he said, "I've got a place nearby, how about coming over for a drink?"
Now that sounded nice, much more promising than a quick blowjob. So I hopped in the car and we drove off. I didn't pay much attention to where we were going when we crossed the river, but started to tense up when he turned into the street leading to my apartment complex. He turned into the parking lot and actually parked next to Doug's car. We got out of the car with my knees trembling a bit, looking all around for signs of either of my roommates. The guy headed toward my building. Now these buildings were three story brick and shaped in a U. There were two entrances, one in each of the inside corners of the U. The sidewalk went up the middle of the courtyard, then split towards each of the doors. Mine was on the right. He turned to the left. I followed him; my eyes glued to my door, praying neither Joe nor Doug would emerge. We made it safely inside and went upstairs to his apartment. He offered me a drink and I told him anything, as long as it was strong. He gave me a something and tonic, vodka, I think and I gulped it down. Being a good host, he refilled my glass.
We sat on the couch and talked a bit. His name was Rob, and he was a hairdresser (imagine that). Sorry. He was a nice guy, just slightly effeminate, late 20's. blonde, maybe 6', 180 lbs. He'd assumed rightly that I was a student at the college. I was 19, 5'10", 150 lbs., brown hair and eyes. And I was attempting a beard that just wasn't working. Joe and Doug called it facial pubic hair. About halfway through my second drink he started undressing me. His clothes somehow disappeared at the same time and soon we were naked, lying together on the couch, me on top of him, kissing passionately, tongues wrestling for control of our mouths. I went down to lick his nipples. Because my feet were already at the end of the couch, I couldn't slide down as I brought my head lower, so my butt went up in the air. He reached around and gently began playing with my ass, lightly running his fingers up and down the crack, occasionally brushing against my sensitive hole.
He turned me around so we could suck on each other's dicks, but continued to play with my balls with one hand and my ass with the other. He was driving me wild; I was sucking his big erection for all I was worth. Then he slid a finger into my hole. He sensed my excited reaction, and asked, "Do you want me to fuck you?'
Oh God, how I wanted him to fuck me. I'd never been fucked but had been fantasizing about it for a couple of years. And here I was, naked with a nice guy with a large but not too scary 7 inches, relaxed by a couple of stiff drinks, with a finger already up my ass and he was offering to do it. Maybe he should have just done it. But he asked. And that was the problem. Because deep down in this liberal, open minded, tolerant, non-sexist nice guy, there was a little voice that said, "Men fuck, men don't get fucked." And he was a slightly effeminate hairdresser. God, the nasty prejudices I was pulling out of the depths of my mind.
But I wanted it so bad. And if he had just done it, I probably would have loved it. But he asked, and so, I would have had to say, "Yes, I want you to fuck me," And I couldn't bring myself to say that. So, instead, I suggested we just keep doing what we were. I kept sucking his big cock, he continued to suck mine, and continued playing with my balls. He slid his finger in and out of my hole at about the same pace as he was sucking me, and when he slid a second finger in, I lost it, I just erupted in his mouth. It was the longest most intense orgasm I'd ever had. He later explained it was because his fingers were massaging my prostate. Somewhere in the middle of my extended orgasm, he began to come in my mouth, and I swallowed and sucked every drop I could get out of him, and tried for more, until he withdrew, explaining that his dick was too sensitive after coming. Afterward, he talked of getting together again. It had been great and I would have loved more (maybe he wouldn't ask the next time), but I knew it was impossible. I was less than 100 feet and half a dozen walls from my two straight roommates. No way could I carry on an affair like that. If I couldn't risk my straight friends meeting Alfie, who was masculine and a fellow student, how would I explain an older effeminate guy? So I made up some stuff about being real busy with schoolwork for the next few weeks, but took his number and said I'd call if I could. He offered to drive me back to the campus, so, not wanting him to know I lived right there, I let him. Then I walked back across the river, stopped for coffee at Dunkin' Donuts to kill a little time, and then snuck back into my building.
The rest of the semester was a tense hell. Every time I went in or out of the building, whether alone or with my roommates, I was so afraid of running into Rob. If I was alone, I have to explain what I was doing there and why I hadn't told him I lived there. If I was with Joe or Doug, I'd have to explain who Rob was, and still have to explain to Rob why I hadn't told him I lived there. Fortunately, my luck and my nerves held out until the end of the semester when we moved out, not having run into Rob again.
Note: Shortly I will be posting a third chapter involving The Wall. Since The Wall is only a minor player in this chapter, I have decided to post it as a separate story, called No Longer a Virgin. It will be posted in the College section. I hope you enjoy it. As always, comments are appreciated at NJRimzu @aol.com.