Fraternity Life
by Mat Twassel
Copyright© 2021 by Mat Twassel
Fiction Sex Story: College freshman misses his high school girlfriend. He can't wait to get back to his dorm to read her latest lovey-dovey email. Just a few things to take care of before then.
Caution: This Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Gay BiSexual Heterosexual Fiction Anal Sex Oral Sex Caution .
Alex is feeling good. The fraternity is filled with such great guys, and he is one of them. Sure, he has to live in the dorm for his freshman year, but he’ll get through that, and next year he can move into the house and really be part of things. Scrubbing dried vomit on the main stairs isn’t the best job in the world but it isn’t really so bad, though it’s a shame someone got sick. He wonders if it had been a guy or a girl. He sort of hopes it was a girl. Maybe the weekend parties do get a little out of hand. Anyway, he and the six other pledges will get this place cleaned up. They make a good team. The whisk of bristles on wet oak sounds good.
As he works, Alex’s thoughts drift to Mary Ellen, still in high school. Next year she’ll be joining him here at State. If this were last year, they’d probably be in his car making out. He misses Mary Ellen. The thought of her brings a swelling to his groin. He swirls the brush in the pail of soapy water and holds it up to drip. She made him wear a condom every time. He didn’t mind, he supposes, but still, it would be nice to feel the real her when they make love. Only three weeks til Thanksgiving break. He can hardly wait to hold her in his arms again. To kiss her. To fuck her. The summer was so nice. Every night. But some nights it was almost like work, holding off until she shivered and it was okay for him to come. Sometimes he held off for so long he had to work to come. Alex scowls. Exhales. Scrubs harder. “Come, come, come,” he says under his breath. That’s what he chanted in the car sometimes, with Mary Ellen riding him. Sometimes it worked.
It is nearly midnight before he’s finished. The other pledges have already taken off. Alex is just putting away the cleaning supplies. “Wanna take a shower before you head out?” It is Paul, one of the officers, naked except for a towel around his waist. Paul is a gymnastics jock. Good-lookin’ guy. He could be a male model if he were a little bigger. Willowy and yet at the same time muscular. He’d always been friendly to Alex. Paul smiles. “Wouldn’t want you to hit the sack all smelly.”
“I, uh, didn’t bring a towel or anything,” Alex says. “I could just shower back at the dorms.” In truth he hadn’t been planning on a shower. He’s tired. And he is looking forward to reading Mary Ellen’s emails before turning in. Lately she’s been writing some pretty sexy stuff. Alex enjoys reading her emails almost more than he enjoys talking to her on the phone.
“Oh, we have plenty of towels and stuff,” Paul says. “C’mon, my treat.” He claps Alex on the shoulder. The towel slips loose and falls to the floor. Alex can’t help but look at Paul’s cock. Handsome, he’d have to say. One an artist might have drawn, if artists drew such things. Paul’s genitals match the rest of him: willowy yet muscular, as if carved from blond oak and magically made alive. The handsome penis gives a little lurch as Alex bends to pick up the towel, and he blushes. He hands the towel to Paul. Their eyes meet.
In the shower room, an open arrangement of six showers, Paul leaves a gap of one between himself and Paul. The steam billows, the pipes rattle, the water hisses and streams. Paul soaps himself to a frothy white, and Alex mimics him. The hot shower is soothing. Sharing the space is exciting. As he soaps his genitals, Alex wonders if he’ll relate the experience to Mary Ellen. Mustn’t think of Mary Ellen now, Alex thinks. Don’t want to get an erection. But he can’t help it. His penis is half hard.
“Nice cock,” Paul says above the hiss and throb of the spray. And before Alex knows what’s happening, Paul is standing before him, looking deep into his eyes and cradling his erection. Alex feels himself grow even more in Paul’s fingers.
“I’m not gay, you know,” Alex says. His voice comes out squeakier than he would have liked. “I’m not...” he begins to repeat his assertion, trying for a firmer, deeper tone.
“Of course not,” Paul says, his fingers circling and sliding Alex’s stem. “Of course not. I’m not either.” And then he kneels and takes Alex in his mouth.
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