Chapter 21 Sloppy Seconds
Matt stood in the little group of nearly naked guys who had gathered around Paul, introducing themselves, shaking his hand or hugging him. Nearly naked because Todd had retained his red necktie. Jake still wore his blue high tops.
Paul, of course, remained clothed. Barefoot, but otherwise clothed.
Matt smiled. Paul had come a long way in a very short time. Like Matt himself, Paul was growing, evolving.
“No hard feelings?” Matt asked Paul when it was his turn to congratulate him.
Paul weighed his answer. “I still feel angry. I know that’s not fair of me. You did what you had to do—to help me.”
Matt understood. He had ripped away a bandage that concealed an ugly, festering wound. Ripped it away without warning. Such things were always painful in the short-term.
Matt leaned in for a hug. He whispered in Paul’s ear. “Look around, dude. You’re the only guy not naked. Take off your clothes. You’re one of us now.”
Paul grinned, started undressing.
Matt moved away. He had a question for Todd. Paul was in good hands.
Todd hovered near the back of the group. Without his fishnet stockings and garter belt, he was the shy, uncertain village virgin he’d seemed at Matt’s interview. Matt found it endearing this time around.
Matt noticed something he had missed when he’d seen Todd naked before.
The guy was uncircumcised! His scrotum and groin were as bald as his head was thick with dark, softly curled hair.
His dick, with its foreskin drawn tight over the glans, seemed disproportionately small—like the penis on Michaelangelo’s David.
It was a short, wormy, Vienna sausage-sized thing that rested atop the scrotum, unable even to dangle over it—a top knot as opposed to a ponytail.
Matt was entranced. An image flashed across his mind: Todd, in his garter belt and fishnet stockings, freed of his black thong underwear, standing. Matt fucking him from behind. Todd’s limp dick bouncing with each hard thrust of Matt’s cock.
Matt’s cock started to harden. There was no hiding it. It would figure out nothing was happening anytime soon—if at all. This setting—ten young, naked, gay guys with a group ethos of mutual dick diddling—was rife with cocks prairie-dogging up for a look-see, getting bored, and settling back down.
“Do you have plans later?” Matt asked Todd.
“You mean if Paul doesn’t select me?” Todd teased.
Matt nodded. His cock nodded, too. “I thought we could get better acquainted, handshake-wise.”
That was the thing about the GM: their handshakes were simultaneously commonplace and intimate.
Commonplace in that these exchanges were not dressed up in formalities. Their purpose was not obscured by social conventions. There was no delicate dance as part of some broader mating ritual that led to a change in status, exchanges of promises. It was sex—plain and simple.
But intimate—magically intimate. Absent the mummery of any priest, the commonplace exchange of fluids between two males was transubstantiated into fraternity and brotherhood.
William’s voice rang out. “Okay ladies, gather round and settle down!”
It was time for Paul’s first handshake.
Todd smiled at Matt, stroked his red necktie, and attempted nonchalance. “Let’s see who Paul selects. It could be you. It could be me. But, sure, if we’re both in the reject pile, I could be persuaded to take a private tour of the locker room.”
The locker room? Todd obviously knew about Matt’s rendezvous with William.
“That might be arranged,” Matt said, referencing the locker room. “But there won’t be any Kraken. Just me.”
Todd smiled shyly. “A pillar candle is all I want.” He turned and went to join the others.
Matt found Paul and stood beside him.
William waited for the room to quiet down, then he addressed Paul.
“Another tradition of ours is that as a new member you get to pick one of us—anyone but your sponsor, Harley. And you get to specify the sex act you want to perform with that person: handjob, blowjob, topping, or bottoming. It’s our way of welcoming you to the group. ”
Matt glanced at Paul, hoping to see excitement, seeing panic instead. This was unexpected social interaction an order of magnitude greater than anything Paul had previously experienced.
Matt leaned over and whispered in Paul’s ear, trying to reassure him. “You’ll love it! Like getting to pick ice cream flavors at Braums!”
“I. Don’t. Like. Ice cream,” Paul whispered back.
“I just meant that you get to choose everything! The guy. The sex act. It’s like building your own sundae,” Matt whispered.
“I DON’T LIKE STICKY FINGERS!” Paul said loudly.
Everyone laughed.
Matt froze. He worried that Paul would interpret the laughter as derision and revert to his default mode: distrust.
William, who had vehemently opposed Paul’s candidacy, salvaged the situation.
“You’re a girl after my own heart, Paul dahling,” William said. “I can’t abide sticky fingers either! I’ll help you select one of our tidier members. And I’ll ensure you have good silicone lubricant. How’s that sound?”
“Good,” Paul said.
William nodded. “Now, let’s start with the sex act. Tell your ole’ Godmother what you want to do?”
“Bottom.”
“I knew we were kindred spirits!” William gushed. “We’ll find you the perfect top. Let’s see….” William studied the eight other members. He pointed to Evan and Harley, and explained they were predominantly tops, although, of course, Paul couldn’t choose Harley, who had also been his sponsor.
Next, William explained that Matt preferred topping but didn’t have enough experience to rule out versatility. Jake—he of the blue high tops—was equally skilled at topping or bottoming. Everyone else skewed towards bottoms.
“I’m still kinda mad at Matt,” Paul grumbled.
William nodded in sympathy. “He has that effect on a lot of us.”
“So, Evan or Jake,” Paul said.
“That’s going to be a tough choice to make—choosing between those two,” William said. “Now, you think about your decision, dahling, while I make some announcements. Okay?”
Paul smiled, and started studying Jake and Evan.
“Fall Break starts Thursday, October 19th,” William announced.
“Classes resume Monday, October 23rd. Our annual field trip to the Gayborhood will be Saturday the 21st. We’ll leave the clubhouse at 7:00p.m. Put it on your calendars.
Matt and Paul: plan on spending that night at the clubhouse. You’ll be out well past curfew.”
Everyone clapped. There was a buzz of excitement.
Paul got Matt’s attention, whispered a question. “Whose dick is bigger? Jake’s? Or Evan’s?”
“They’re about the same,” Matt said.
Paul was agitated. “Don’t you know their dick sizes?” he whispered. “What sort of gay fraternity doesn’t have a spreadsheet of its members’ vital statistics?”
William held up a hand for silence. “Sadly, some of you may not be going on the field trip. Two people—Kevin and Luke—are delinquent with your HIV testing. One of you might—might—still be able to go on the field trip.”
Luke groaned. “Why only one of us?”
“It’s my prerogative to designate who will be on security detail for the field trip,” William said.
“If neither of you gets tested by the 19th, you’ll both be on security detail.
Otherwise, the first one of you to provide me with testing results can join us on the field trip.
The other one will have the security detail. ”
“Two more things,” William said. “Then we’ll see whom Paul has picked for his top. First, I now have a mobile phone, a Motorolla Micro Tac! Now you can reach me even if I’m away from my room or the clubhouse.”
Everyone clapped. This was exciting news. None of them could afford such a luxury.
“Finally,” William said. “Saturday, October 28th is the Alumni Association’s Halloween party.
We’re helping. Setting up. Serving drinks and food.
Providing the eye candy and the ass or cock to be groped by the occasional drunk.
The theme this year is Rocky Horror. See me about costumes.
These are the people who pay our bills, ladies. I expect full cooperation.”
Matt had never heard of this Rocky Horror thing. He knew about the Gayborhood, mainly because the GM rules prohibited freshmen from going there unescorted.
“Back to you, Paul!” William gushed. “Who’s your top? Evan or Jake?”
“Does anyone have a tape measure?” Paul asked.
Todd wobbled on his pumps, trying to maintain his balance while Matt’s cock slammed into his ass. They were in the locker room, beside one of the benches. Clothes littered the floor—all of Matt’s, most of Todd’s. Overhead, the ceiling fan creaked, stirring the humid, mildewed air.
This was round two of their handshake. The first round had been on the floor, doggy-style. Matt’s cum had streaked down Todd’s thighs like honey on a warm sopapilla.
Now they were standing.
Todd’s red necktie served as a convenient leash. Matt held the tail firmly in one hand, pulling the noosed end towards him, forcing Todd to arch his back, stretching his nipples even flatter. Matt’s other hand was around Todd’s waist, anchoring it against his dick.
Todd ground his ass against Matt’s cock, a mortar trying to swallow a pestle.
Low, guttural moans escaped Todd’s lips.
The only other sound in the room, besides the echoing drip of the ever-leaking shower heads, was the slick, slurping noise of Matt’s cock as it slipped in and out of Todd’s cum- and lube-greased hole.
Matt had carefully chosen the spot for this second coupling, so that the room’s lone mirror—a speckled, cracked rectangle of a relic that hung over the vanity—reflected back the image of Todd’s frontside.
His dark hair limp with sweat. His eyes glazed in a fuck stupor.
His hooded, flaccid dick bouncing like frog legs in a hot skillet.