I wasn’t concentrating on very much that day in the library, aside from
wondering how and why researching articles for a paper in my freshman
Economics class, was making my penis rock hard. I have a cut, 8 and a half
inch cock, when fully erect, with a downward curve. It creates quite a tent
in my pants boned up. The problem then was that my growing shaft was
pulling on my pubic hair, and each throb was starting to hurt a little. How
to reach inside my pants and free up my dick without everyone around me
seeing? The only solution was to get my books, hold them strategically in
front of my crotch, and head for the exit door. My stroll to the doorway
felt like one of those dreams where the more you walk, the farther away the
goal becomes. I was trying to be nonchalant, but my cock was in full,
raging boner mode. When I finally reached the exit, I attempted to console
myself and ease my sense of embarrassment by thinking that probably no one
saw anyway.
I darted down the stairs to the library’s basement, where I had hoped to
find some privacy. Seeing no one in the corridor, I immediately reached in
my pants and adjusted my boner. Touching my cock made it even harder, and I
was overwhelmed with an urge to masturbate. Up ahead, at the end of a dimly
lit hallway lined with book carts, I spotted a door marked “men.” I was
surprised by this discovery because I thought I knew every restroom on
campus. (In my first week of school I had made it my business to checkout
as many men’s rooms as possible. I even planned my routes around campus
based on how many restrooms I would be able to pass by. Now, it may sound
as if I had a lot of sexual activity, but nothing could farther from the
truth. The truth was that I was terrified of being found out. All of my
bathroom cruising was done covertly. Back then, I could barely admit to
myself that I was attracted to men, god let alone act on anything. At most,
I would get a glimpse of a guy’s penis as they urinated, take that mental
image back to my room, and masturbate furiously. I feared that if anyone
knew my true desires, I would become an outcast. And for someone with
almost no friends at all, that was a bleak prospect. Believe it or not, I
was a virgin, except for jerking off by myself. That, I had started as a
very young person. Mostly while spying on my older brother, by 11 years, or
my uncle, Ed, whenever he came to visit us. But that is material for
another time, I promise!) The room was dark as I entered.
A motion sensor light flickered lamely into existence. It was so dim that
it barely lit the dark corners of the small room. There were only two
urinals and one booth. The wall of the enclosure was covered in graffiti of
the usual sort: “For blow job call…” and then a number that had been
scratched out; “so and so sucks cock”; a couple of screw holes that looked
as though someone had tired crudely to enlarge them; and an amazingly well
drawn erect penis with a large ball sack. The meticulously detailed pubic
hair was especially memorable. Being a lover of full, natural pubic hair,
this image fully renewed the strength of my boner. Taking in the pungent
odor of stale piss, I stood in front of the urinal, unzipped my pants,
flopped out my dick, and began stroking.
I love masturbating my penis, and what with the ambiance and aromas
stimulating me I really got into it that day. After quite a few minutes had
passed, I felt comfortable enough to undo my belt and open my pants fully.
I lowered my briefs sufficiently so that my balls were free. I stroked my
shaft with my left hand and tickled my scrotum with my right. Then, I bent
my head down and drooled saliva slowly over the length of my cock. I closed
my eyes and imagined I was stroking with every guy I had ever seen in the
locker room. It felt so fucking good. I thought my heart would stop when I
heard the door creak open. I quickly pushed my hips forward so that my cock
would be hidden from view. I glanced over and recognized another student I
had just seen upstairs now standing in front of the sink apparently about
to wash his hands. We made very brief eye contact. I felt nervous and
couldn’t help wondering how much he had seen. My cock softened up enough to
shove it back in my underwear, though my hands and knees were shaking. Then
I hiked up my pants, fastened my belt, and made a quick exit. I got back to
my dorm room in record time.
My roommate was gone for the weekend, so I pulled the shade down, and then
my pants, in that order, got out my little jar of Vaseline, greased up my
dick, and jerked my self into oblivion. Just as I relaxed my hips back down
the bed and began to savor the taste of cum that had splattered onto my
lips from an unusually enthusiastic orgasm, a sinking feeling came to my
gut. I forgot to get my books when I left the men’s room. Fuck! I cleaned
up and ran back to the library and down to the restroom. The little shelf
where I had placed them was empty. Double fuck!
Back in my room, I sat stressing on how I would ever finish my boring
assignment without my notebook, and worse still, how I would afford to buy
a replacement textbook. In an attempt to clear my brain, I decided to go
for an evening run. I had just finished putting on my running clothes when
I heard a knock on the door, and to my surprise, I saw the guy who had been
in the men’s room with me standing there holding my books out in offering.
Before I could say anything, he spoke.
“Hey, you don’t know me, but I believe these belong to you.”
“Yes, yes, yes!” I thanked him profusely. “How did you find me?”
“Well, it wasn’t too hard. I looked through your notebook and found your
name. I asked around, and here I am. Figured you’d need ’em back.”
“Oh my god! Thank you again.”
I was thrilled but a little uneasy that he had looked through my notebook.
I doodled constantly and had done dozens of sketches of shirtless hunks and
guys with huge crotch bulges. They were scattered throughout its pages. I
started to blush.
“Happy to help you out, Paul.” He hesitated and then said, “Oh yeah, I’m
Malcolm, by the way.”
There was an extremely awkward moment when, after I had taken the books, he
remained standing silently in the doorway. I wondered did he want to be
paid a reward or something?
“Do you want to come in for a bit? Sorry, it’s kind of a mess in here. Have
a seat.”
Malcolm sat in my desk chair, and I grabbed my roommate’s chair and sat
facing him.
“So, are you an art major?”
I was shocked at the question.
” Oh, god, no! Why would you think that?”
“Those drawings are excellent. I was just wondering.”
“Undeclared freshman is what I am. You?”
Malcolm said he was a third-year business major with a focus on
entrepreneurship. Somehow the conversation continued for nearly half an
hour despite my cottonmouth, when Malcolm suddenly asked if I would draw
him.
“You are terrific! No one has ever drawn a picture of me before. I would
love it.”
After a lot of refusing and more blushing, I acquiesced. I told him to stay
seated where he was, turned off the overhead light and then strategically
moved the desk lamp, hoping to cast interesting shadows across his strong
facial features. I had hardly ever tried to capture likenesses, preferring
always to draw from imagination. For my own convenience, I had developed
the skill of creating generic masculine features on the faces of the men I
liked to draw. Unfortunately, they always looked exactly alike. Now, here
in front of me was this handsome African-American man with features unlike
any of my stock characters. I was nervous but determined to do good. When I
looked up after fussing with my paper pencils, I was stunned to see that
Malcolm had pulled off his t-shirt and sat there bare-chested before me.
Reading the surprised look on my face, he said that he thought this is what
I would prefer. I didn’t argue. I put pencil to paper and began.
Damn, he was beautiful. He was comfortably slouched back in the chair with
his legs straight out and crossed at the ankles. Looking incredibly sexy in
jeans without a belt and white socks and sneakers, he kept his eyes focused
pensively on the floor. I got most of his face blocked in before turning
my eyes toward his torso. I stared a long time at the contour of his pecs,
nipples, and belly, which gently rose and fell with each breath. I could
feel my penis awakening. I was holding the sketchpad on my lap, so I wasn’t
too concerned. After more sketching, I looked up and noticed that the waist
button of his jeans was open. Was it like that before? Did I not see it? I
had a semi now.
Where is that eraser? I said under my breath. Malcolm indicated he saw one
on the floor just by my foot. I bent down to pick it up. Holy shit! His
zipper was now opened about half an inch. My heart started pumping so hard
I could feel it in my ears. Without even thinking, I lifted the sketchpad
up to my chest and spread my legs apart, giving Malcolm a full view between
my legs should he let his eyes drift there. The next time I looked up, he
was indeed staring directly at my crotch. I gave my swelling cock a throb,
and his eyes widen a bit. Feeling bolder and throbbed it more strongly. I
felt my penis straining against my thin running shorts so much that the
head of my cock was practically ready to emerge. Malcolm moved his hand to
his lap and tugged at his zipper almost imperceptibly. It was the hottest,
most seductive striptease I think I’ve ever seen.
Neither of us spoke a word. I had stopped drawing even though I continued
to hold the sketchpad against my chest. We were both fixated on each
other’s crotches waiting in the deafening silence for one or the other to
make a move. It was me who broke the tension by dropping my pad on the bed.
I moved my butt forward in the seat of the chair and leaned back while
spreading my legs even further apart. Malcolm pulled the zipper all the way
down, exposing his thick pubic bush. That was the “on button” for me. I
reached down and pulled my fully rigid penis out from the leg of my shorts
and let it throb and bounce freely. I reached up with both hands and began
tweaking and rubbing my nipples until they were hard as bullets. Malcolm
pulled his jeans off and let them drop down to his ankles. His cock looked
to me to be more than 10 inches, also thick, with an upward curve and a
slight bend to the left. He sat with his hands on his wide opened thighs,
not touching his dick, just staring straight at me. I drank in the vision,
his tight hairy balls, the foreskin covering his enormous corona, and his
dick pulsing on his ripped abs with each beat of his heart. There was
something unbelievably affirming and bonding about the two of us displaying
our rock hard manhood to one another. It was the validation I had been
craving my entire life. We were men together, proud and unashamed of our
sexuality, feeling our pleasure and savoring our power. It was a heady
experience.
I pulled off my running shorts and t-shirt and then reached over to the
clutter by the head of my bed and grabbed the Vaseline. I moved my chair
closer to Malcolm so that our knees were touching. I took a glob of the
jelly and then tossed the jar to him. With ritual slowness, we applied it
to our hard cocks and began stroking. I watched with intensity as Malcolm
moved his foreskin on and off his fat mushroom head and marveled at its
bright pink color. I slid closer in so that my knee was nearly touching
Malcolm’s balls. His legs were pried apart about as far as they could go. I
leaned forward, and with slightly trembling fingers, I felt Malcolm’s tight
ball sack and churning nuts. Our silence was ended when Malcolm started
moaning quietly from somewhere deep within his throat. His voice began a
crescendo as he accelerated the pumping motion of his hand. His cock seemed
to get thicker and the head more swollen, the faster he moved. I brought my
face closer to his cock. He was almost shouting now. He aimed his cock at
me, pulled his tightly griped fist all the way down to the base, and
released a geyser of cum. The first four or five blasts splattered against
my mouth and nose. I opened my mouth and extended my tongue like a starving
bird, but the next shot hit me in the eye. It startled me, and I sat up and
tried to wipe it away. My eye was burning, but I didn’t care. Malcolm was
still groaning as I coated my palm with the semen that covered my face and
chest. I lubed my dick with his warm load and brought myself to an
immediate climax.
Our chests were still heaving when the first actual words were spoken.
“So, tomorrow? Another sitting?”
“Sounds good to me!”
The End
