Amberson Hall was a hive of activity as Pete Young breezed through the third floor, passing classrooms and other students with a notebook under his arm. Every part of his body always seemed to be in easygoing motion, and his handsome looks attracted stares from male and female college kids alike. He'd always been considered "hot" by girls ever since elementary school, eventually leading to a cocksure personality which was both insufferable and winning at the same time. Those traits proved to be major assets in the hockey rink, and as a sophomore he was already well on his way to seizing the all time scoring record for the University's division. His many physical skills were unparalleled. Watching him skate against opposing teams was a dazzling sight - a poetry of flashing blades cleaving into the ice, muscles working under a sleek jersey and protective pads, and a stare burning with the fire of competition.
The sprints and heavy practices, along with many hours in the gym, had packed a strong frame upon his 6'3" body which spanned up into broad shoulders. His chest was smooth and rippled with young muscle, coming together into a visual display so eye-catching that it always made female students stop in their tracks whenever he took his shirt off for a game of Frisbee with his buds. His thick, dark brown hair was a bit longer than some of his other brothers wore it, covering the tops of his ears and kissing the back of his shirt collar -- but it was still preppy enough and conservative enough to mark him as one of the Omegas. His chocolate brown eyes were innocent and wicked at the same time, winning over anyone of the opposite sex.
Pete was also untroubled in his approach to life. He constantly forgot to do his work or meet up with people or keep appointments. Naturally, he'd always manage to get out of trouble with a brilliant flash of his smile, a polite apology, and a friendly nature which could convince anyone - hardened professors and peers alike - that he was blameless. Dozens of people even thought he was their best friend.
On this particular morning, he'd forgotten to do his laundry the night before and found himself with nothing to wear.
But no matter.
A quick jaunt down the hallway to Brad's room, and Pete got what he needed. Hell, Brad was a fucking model for the damn A & F catalog, and it wasn't like he didn't have a wardrobe big enough for the entire house. He grabbed a few things and dressed in the space of a few minutes. Pete checked his hair in the mirror, then took off just as Brody flipped on the television set to watch a college baseball game.
Pete headed towards his Friday morning Lit class, sporting a navy blue Abercrombie tee with a dark red "88" numbers on the front, worn over an A&F oxford shirt with multi-thin blue and white stripes. The button down was untucked, allowing the front of the shirt tail to droop out from underneath the tee shirt's hem, just covering his belt and the top of his khakis. The oxford sleeves were rolled to his biceps, flaunting both his hockey player forearms and the colorful wristbands below his right hand. The oxford collar arched out perfectly over the tee shirt's crew neck, barely concealing the A&F necklace which kept struggling to be seen above the prep clothing.
All right. Maybe he was a bit too A&F on this particular day. But it was all that he could get his hands on. And he didn't want to be late for class again, having to work his charm on another professor to get out of trouble.
But as he moved towards his classroom at the end of the hallway, Pete caught sight of his fellow chapter brother, Wyatt Shuler, walking towards him. And if there was one person who could draw the many female stares away from Pete, it was the popular quarterback of the State University football team. Wyatt hailed from just outside of Dallas, and he exuded that disarming good old boy charm which could only be found in the heart of the Lone Star state. He was over 6'4" and stacked with muscle, his torso consecrated with breathtaking curves which funneled down into a set of abdominals so firm, so grooved with its six pack and wholly unbreakable, that they seemed to be made out of Kevlar. He kept himself shaved down like a swimmer, and his unblemished skin was as smooth as that of a newborn baby - only tanned to the color of bottled honey.
He looked especially hot on this particular morning. Even though Wyatt was the star of the State University team and had broken records, the twenty-one year old junior still kept allegiances to his home state. He wore a choker with a Texas state flag made out of silver, and there was a University of Texas baseball cap spun backwards on his blond and perfectly cut hair. People would've given anyone else shit about it. But not Wyatt Shuler. And even if they did, he'd just laugh it off.
But the perfection didn't end there.
His eyes were deep, Caribbean green. Wyatt also wore a red and black flannel shirt over a white tee shirt, barely concealing the power of his young body which was trained for taking hits in the pocket and throwing touchdowns. His Wrangler jeans seemed pasted to his ripped thighs, encircled by a leather belt which seemed hardly necessary, and a nearly flawless ass that Pete had seen bared on a few occasions.
But for some reason, as he felt a strange tingling on his skin and a charge flowing through the hallway, Pete found himself attracted to that ass. He didn't admire it or secretly try to compare it with his own apple butt. He'd been there, done that.
This time, he wanted a piece of it.
And from the look on Wyatt's face, Pete could tell that the stud quarterback was hungry to make a few discoveries about the hockey player as well.
The hallway began to clear out as the two college bucks stood in front of each other and became unaware of everything around them. Their eyes locked and sparked with heat. Hearts throbbed in a pair of hefty, powerfully ripped chests. Clothing barely shifted as they took short breaths and fists became tightly clenched.
"You got a class?" Pete asked with a vacant expression, his cock becoming engorged and starting to push outward in his cargo khakis.
"Screw class," was the response.
Suddenly, Pete found himself yanked into an empty classroom, the door slamming closed as he was shoved up against the front desk. The next sensation was Wyatt Shuler's lips pressing against his own, a tongue darting into his mouth as their arms encircled around one another's waists. Pete lightly bit the quarterback's sturdy neck, his palms moving ever downward to cup that sweet ass. Wyatt responded with a show of strength, lifting his fraternity brother on to the edge of the desk, then running his fingers through the tousled, preppy brown hair while staring intensely into Pete's eyes.
"I want to fuck you, dude!" Wyatt said in a commanding tone.
"What are you waiting for then?" Pete shot back.
Suddenly, Wyatt started kissing him with greater passion as the temperature within the vacant classroom started to rise. Their breath was heavy, peppered with moans as Pete's hands groped over denim and searched madly for any hint of exposed skin.
His fingers found the front of Wyatt's flannel shirt and tugged at the bottom, unfastening the two buttons near his belt buckle. The quarterback whipped the shirt down his rippling guns, working to get rid of the flannel button down, before dropping it on the floor. Then he raised his powerful arms, still kissing Pete as the hockey player wrenched the white tee shirt over his head, taking the orange University of Texas Longhorns cap with it and revealing the most jaw-dropping set of pecs that any college boy had dreamed about in his wildest gay fantasies. Pete found himself drawn to this unbelievable sight, playfully licking and sucking upon the exposed torso, then teasing both the nipples until Wyatt was groaning like a delighted schoolgirl.
At that moment, he stopped and looked down at the football stud's waist, unclasping the belt and tearing open the button fly of his jeans. His finger slipped into Wyatt's crotch and started moving up and down, very gently, as Pete's mouth formed into a pearly grin that he usually saved for girls he'd brought back to his bedroom after a party. Wyatt was groaning as he relished the sensation of Pete's fingers toying with the spongy head of his cock and rolling a thumb over the piss slit.
"Awwwww fuck yeah" Wyatt hissed. "Fuckin' hockey player stud ... awesome, man ..."
Pete began drawing the Wranglers downward, gently tugging the dark blue denim off Wyatt's beautiful ass, inch by mouth-watering inch, taking the gray Ralph Lauren boxer briefs with them. Like the skin being peeled from an apple, the Wranglers were leisurely shed to reveal more of his magnificent thighs, his strong calves, heading down to his white-socked ankles. The sound of unclasped belt was clinking gently as his cock snaked out from beneath the briefs and sprang into freedom. The throbbing, scarlet head brushed across Pete's oxford shirt tail, tickling the slit and drawing an even greater rush of blood, causing the wide pole to engorge to a full nine inches.
The jeans finally hit the floor, and Pete grasped an ass cheek into each hand, squeezing the muscles as the quarterback flexed them, then returning to the strong chest again and pinching his nipples again.
"So fuckin' hot," Pete murmured.
Wyatt winked at him, planting another deep kiss on his lips. Pete took a hold of the shaft and started to stroke it with a soft motion, watching as the pearl-shaped drops of precum welled out of the slit and bloomed over his fingers. He toyed with the heavy ball sack and drew another heavy moan from the quarterback. Wyatt's breath was ragged and filled with husky desire, his eyes flicking to Pete's Abercrombie clothes. His hands embarked on an expedition beneath the navy tee shirt, raising the bottom up past Pete's stomach and revealing more of the oxford shirt until the dark red embroidered moose logo was fully exposed. Pete could feel Wyatt's hands sliding up and down his torso, never roaming underneath the oxford but pressing down on the muscles hidden by the fabric. The result was a tingling sensation that swept over his chest, the Abercrombie moose to scraping lightly against Pete's left nipple, the shirt's collar rising up and pushing back slightly with each motion.
Pete's cock jutted desperately within his pants, leaking a fresh dose of college boy cum until his boxers were becoming soaked and a tiny stain, just to the right of his zipper, made its appearance on his pants. They were still kissing as the hockey stud tugged upon his lover's All-American dick, simultaneously enjoying the sensation of fingers skimming over his preppy oxford.
"So what have you got under here, hockey boy?" Wyatt smirked, allowing the tee shirt to drop so that it covered his torso once again.
A big grin formed on Pete's face. But before Pete could even respond to the question, Wyatt had taken hold of the bottom of the exposed oxford shirt tail front and started pulling them apart. Beneath the "88" A&F navy tee shirt, there was the sound of popping and snapping as small buttons scattered out from their hiding place. They danced across the tile floor just below the soles of his sneakers. Pete took a shaky, excited breath as he felt the button down oxford parting like a curtain and his hardened nipples came into contact with the tee shirt's cotton.
Wyatt pushed up the tee shirt again and took shaggy-haired jock's pecs into each of his palms, squeezing them gently like he would a laced pigskin, then pinching the nipples on his way down to Pete's pancake-flat stomach.
"Dude, I want some of this," Wyatt said with an approving grin.
"What's stopping you?" said the previously straight arrow hockey player.
And then, just to add a punctuation to his question, Pete quickly whisked both shirts over his head at the same time and tossed them to the floor. Wyatt eased his fraternity brother back so that Pete was leaning on his elbows. Slowly he started licking the hockey player across his chest and kissed the athletic set of muscles that worked beneath the skin.
Pete breathed heavily as Wyatt moved down to his belt, pulling the buckle loose and unzipping his pants. Both the khakis and Ralph Lauren underwear were slipped down to his ankles, and the quarterback soon was sucking heartily on his shaft. Pete closed his eyes and bit down heavily on his lower lip. He let out a delighted grin, running his hands over Wyatt's hair and squeezing the powerful ripped granite that formed his shoulders. Wyatt tickled the tip of the head, swirling here and flicking there, almost the same way he would enjoy the drippings from an ice cream cone. He could taste bits of pre-cum from the slit and used the edge of his tongue to probe deeper, trying to drive his partner to the point of sexual ecstasy.
"Unnnngh," Pete muttered. "Oh, fuck ... keep doin' it ..."
Wyatt had begun beating his own pole as he toyed with Pete's manhood, the sexual heat rising within the room until sweat prickled out on their chests. Before long, Pete had dropped to his knees and was returning the favor for Wyatt, feeling the strong football hands sweeping through his tousled dark hair as he suckled on the immense prick. Even when the quarterback stud let out a heavy groan and came to climax in sticky ropes, Pete didn't release his lips from Wyatt's cock. Instead, he gulped down every salty ounce like a man drinking at an oasis after days in the desert sun.
Wyatt shuddered as a tingling sensation covered his skin, feeling perhaps the greatest orgasm of his life, his abdominals tightening into firm steel.
"Fuuuuuck, yeah - " he whispered in delight. After Pete was done swallowing, he looked up at his partner and grinned, the hemp necklace encircling his wide throat and wearing nothing else on his body.
"Good to the last drop," he said.
But it didn't stop there. The fun was just beginning. Very soon afterward, Pete Young was standing directly behind the strapping football star, both of his hands caressing Wyatt's strong pectorals. Pete squeezed and gently twisted the nipples, drawing a groan from the quarterback. His roaming fingers toyed with the deep channels of perfect abs, barely touching the blond pubic area right beneath it. Pete's own cock was slathered with a healthy film of leftover semen from Wyatt's climax, and he was gently pushing the entire length of his shaft into the puckered hole with a tender, repeated motion.
As fresh trickles of sweat dripped over grinding muscles and began winding down their knotted shoulders, Pete picked up the pace. Wyatt clenched his teeth, turned and kissed his partner deeply on the lips. Then, he broke it off with a tightened grin.
"Come on, Pete," he hissed. "Fuck me, hockey stud!"
Wyatt could feel his own cock stiffening again, engorging with pulsing blood until the piss slit started to throb. But the dull ache receded into a feeling of intense pleasure, while the tip of Pete's mushroom head tickled his prostate. Pete continued working with the boundless zeal of youth, biting and kissing the exposed skin while offering a few delicate licks to Wyatt's shoulder.
"Awwww yeah," Wyatt groaned. "Uggghhhhh! ... aw, man ... I'm gonna cum!"
Pete felt an eruption of hot spunk from his cock. And right at the moment, a fresh spurt of hot, drizzling jock juice spilled from Wyatt's dick. He threw his head back and bit down on his lip to hold back a scream, knowing there were students right in the next classroom. Behind him, Pete shut his eyes and let out a delighted moan, a huge smile on his face as he came repeatedly into Wyatt's perfect ass.
"Yeah," he whispered. "God, yes ..."
But while this coupling was just beginning, a pair of fellow Omega brothers had just walked out on the fraternity quad for a game of Frisbee.
They would never finish.