"It's been ages since I've been in the thrall of a good book," remarks Kelly Rowan Ferguson III. He is on his bed reading a newspaper, while wearing his favorite boxers and L.L. Bean wool socks.

My dumbass roommate is always saying stupid shit like that. Only 10:00 a.m. Saturday morning and already he's starting with that "I'm so fucking cultured and I read the New Yorker don't you?" crapola. All day he'll be doing it. I'm in very real danger of going nuts. Me, I'm trying to stay asleep. I mean, come on, I just got to bed five hours ago, already!

Kelly and I share a really cool room at a really bogus college. I transferred out here as a sophomore and JESUS was it ever a big mistake. What a bogus school. You haven't heard of it; don't bother asking. But I'm marooned out here on this island surrounded by corn instead of water and I'm homesick for my hometown of Philadelphia, which is the greatest city on earth, a-fucking-men.

Did I say "fucking men"? Forget I did. Here I am with all these cute preppy guys with names like Clay and Taylor and they all play lacrosse (me, I swim) and have great chests and muscular legs and they all get drunk in their frat houses where they take off all their clothes and slide around in beer at the end of the night, so I figure there's gotta be at least a couple homos here, right? And maybe I'd meet a cute New England guy and we'd fall in love and I could bring him back home to my family in Philadelphia and they'd stop worrying that I'll be a lonely old faggot the rest of my life and they'd cook Clay, or Matty, or whoever a real nice meal and whatever. BOY was I WRONG. I'm the only queer here. Just me. Well, there are a couple of lesbians, but I'm the only gay guy.

Not only am I the only one, but I'm out, out, OUT, which throws every body into major confusion because I'm pretty butch. I'm short, I guess, but a good wrestler's build (seriously, I'm not just saying that) dark hair all over my body except my back thank God, and I gotta say I've got a cute face and a nice, round ass.

My roommate is pretty hot, too. Shiny red hair cut short like a West Point cadet, fair skin, the kind of face only centuries of solid WASP-y genetics can produce, and smooth all over. Never seen him naked, though. He's kinda freaked that his roommate's a guy from a working class family, let alone a loud, horny homo. No, I haven't been grabbing his ass or doing nothing specific to freak him out (in case that's what you're thinking), and I WOULDN'T, even if I wanted to. I don't need that kind of shit in this small and isolated a place. It's enough that they know I suck dick. I don't need to come onto them on top of that. Then I'd REALLY be alone here.

Yeah, so I haven't seen Kelly naked, because he's freaked out by his gay roommate and because he's so repressed. Right now he's reading his fucking newspaper, and his pillow is between his legs covering his crotch. Because far be it from him to admit he has genitalia. GOD has he got a great profile. A good sturdy chin, graceful nose, strong cheekbones, a cleft in that sturdy chin I mentioned before...well, basically, good EVERYTHING. And brown, shiny eyes. Oh, and how could I forget to mention the glasses? Tortoise shell, your basic boarding school thing, they drive me crazy, and not the same way his phony literary shit does. Like, it gets me a little hard.

Yes. That's what it is: a full bladder. And I, unlike Kelly, have no trouble strutting around naked. Okay, not strutting, but to get to the bathroom, I have to walk past Kelly's side of the room. And I don't feel like putting on monogrammed flannel pajamas every time I have to take a dump. I don't own them, anyway. Plus, I gotta say I've got a nice piece of meat. They call me T-Bone. It has nothing to do with anything except the size of my dick, which is exceptional. I've seen chubbier ones, but I've got an admirable thickness, and it's long. And the best part is my mom was a hippie for about five seconds, so they decided to leave me uncut, which is awesome. I can get hard just thinking about my own dick.

Kelly is trying to look pretentious and doing a good job of it. But he's busy with his paper. Oh, shit! He just looked up and saw me.

"Can't you put on a robe, or something?"

"Why? This is a guys' dorm, Kelly, not your parents' Back Bay townhouse. I've got morning wood. That shouldn't offend you."

"Not that. It's your smell."

"Sorry, dude. I was out partying."

"You have b.o., T-Bone. That's what I'm smelling, not beer."

"Then I'll take a shower. Will that satisfy you? Here, Kelly, have one of these. Mellow out." I'm handing Kelly a beer. It's a nice one, from Holland or something, so he's probably finding it hard to reject it. Yes, he's taking it. But what's up? He doesn't open it.

"I'll drink it later. I want to finish the paper first," he explains.

"Oh, it's for class?"

And then he says, in that way of his: "No, T-Bone. It's not. I'm reading this because I want to. I never let school interfere with my Ed-u-cation."

And now I look and see what he's reading. The London Times. JESUS CHRIST! I mean, I'm not an idiot, I did get into this school, after all, and it's really prestigious, but the London TIMES?! I get a couple beers for myself. This guy's gonna drive me nuts! The London fucking Times. What a moron. I walk to the bathroom.

I consider beating off in the shower, but old Kelly's such a buzz kill I decide against it. What an idiot. Fucking Boston nightmare freak I live with, and those perfect features of his. So I down the beers in the shower stall while I let the hot water run all over my body, little streams of water running down both sides of my groin and dripping off the end of my foreskin, and steam coming off my body into the cold air of the bathroom. It's always cold in this dorm because it's so fucking old and college dorm-y. So I make sure my balls get nice and warm. If I'm going to attract Kelly's attention, I may as well impress him. I don't want to look shriveled when I get back to the room.

Stay in the shower a long time. When I get back to the room, towel wrapped around my waist, things look a little different. I mean, Kelly's still in bed, still reading. But now there are three empty beer bottles on his bedside table. I wasn't gone THAT long, was I? Oh, and Kelly's now shirtless, which I should have told you first, because it's the more significant of the two things, except it makes my dick go from hanging down beside my balls, to that dangerous swelling up thing again, which is getting old already this morning. Oh, and he's not wearing his glasses, either. But his socks are still on.

I say, "Hey."

He says, "It's hot in here, isn't it? I mean, I think it is. A little hot. Right? I think so."

I am casual. I mean, no, Kelly, it isn't warm, it's fucking freezing, but I am casual. "I guess."

I plant myself in front of Kelly's bed and do a second round of drying. Because maybe that's what he wants to see. Right? I take the towel from around my waist and dry my hairy armpits. Next I rub along my hairy stomach, and then down to my cock and balls. Those I have to dry well, 'cause, you know, you like to be dry there, and anyway Kelly's right there in front of me. I have the towel all balled up and I rub myself well. Then I turn around and dry my legs and feet, which means I have to bend over, which means Kelly gets a nice view of my ass. Then I drop my towel on the floor and walk to the head of his bed, where he's still sitting, and face him.

"How do I smell?" I raise my arms and widen my stance. I look like that Da Vinci drawing except I have a better haircut and a bigger dick. And Kelly obviously knows it, and he's embarrassed, because he says, "Stop it, T-Bone. I want to read."

"I look better, huh? I look pretty good, don't I?"

"Listen, T-Bone. Everyone's freaked out by your bullshit. Just knock it off, okay? I mean, it's fine what you do and all, but, you know. I mean, I like you, and all, but just take it easy. You know?"

I look at him for a minute. I look into his eyes and realize it was my hangover, hair of the dog, and a long, hot shower that made me think Kelly was coming onto me. Here's this guy who's totally repressed, and on top of that, straight, and his brown eyes are no longer shiny right now, which they would be if he wanted it, and now I know he's just a decent guy who doesn't want anything more than a high-paying finance job and reputation as someone with good taste. So I turn and walk to my side of the room without saying anything.

"T-Bone? T-Bone."

"What."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Did I piss you off?"

I don't answer him. He keeps talking. "Because I wanted to ask you. I wanted to ask you something. Can I ask you a question?"

"Shoot."

"What's it feel like? You know. Up the butt."

"Shut up, Kelly."

"No, I'm serious."

"Yeah, right."

"I am."

"Don't ask just to sound open-minded."

"I'm curious."

"Let me get dressed."

"Don't."

But I keep dressing, because that remark doesn't sink in until about now, ten seconds later, when I see Kelly stand up from his bed, and I notice it because he's still holding the pillow in front of his crotch.

"Don't," he says again. "Don't get dressed." He stands there with the pillow. Then he drops the pillow on his bed. The head of his cute little dick is poking out of the fly of his boxers. His dick is so white and the head is so pink. It's short, but chubby like you wouldn't believe. I walk over to his side of the room. I reach out to touch him, maybe kiss him, but he moves away and reaches over to his bedside table and opens the drawer. He pulls out a condom. He hands it to me. I open it and start to put it on his dick.

"No," he says. "On you."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

"You sure?" He nods. I pull back my foreskin. He's watching me while he slips off his boxers. His balls have pink fuzz all over them.

"Does it hurt to get fucked?" He's looking at me, sweetly, but a little nervous.

"Wait," I say, and I go over to my desk drawer and get out a bottle of lube. "On the bed," I say, and he gets on the bed, lying on his back. "On your stomach," I say, and he rolls over. My dick is hard as a rock, so I slip on the condom and then lube up my middle finger. I stick the finger up in his ass. "Is that okay?" I ask. He nods.

I work my finger gently in and out of his hole. "Okay?" He nods. I work in another finger. I start to work my two fingers in and out. His ass starts bucking back and forth on my two fingers. He's moaning softly, but he's really into it, unable to speak or to think of anything else but my big, rubber-clad T-bone.

"Put it in," he grunts breathlessly. I pull out my fingers and slap my dickhead right up next to the opening of his tight little hole. Then I shove my steak all the way in. He breathes in sharply and tenses up, but I keep my meat inside his ass and hold his ass cheeks, rub his butt with my hands, and move slightly, slightly, inside him until he relaxes.

Once his asshole relaxes I start to pump him. He takes it heroically, softly grunting and keeping his head down on the bed. Each thrust I give him, he gives out a little grunt.

My dick is going in deep. I get it all the way in and pull almost all the way out each time. He continues to grunt his responses.

I ask, "You all right?" He nods. "You sure?" He doesn't say anything.

And then he starts to respond with his butt. He follows my moves as I ride him, his body rocking along to meet my bone as it slides in and out, sliding quicker and smoother and harder and faster. His body's bucking back and forth, meeting my thrusts in a similar rhythm. Pretty soon I'm hardly doing anything because he's doing all the work, impaling himself backward on my dick.

He flips over. "Fuck me, T-Bone. Fuck me hard."

I'm thinking, how much harder can I fuck this guy, but he asked for it, so I pump as hard as I can, working his ass like a jackhammer. I throw my pubic bone hard against the cheeks of his ass, again and again. Suddenly he's unstoppable, his grunts having turned into moans of ecstasy. I'm fucking him in and out and in and out, my hands wrapped around his broad, lean shoulders, his little stiff dick slapping against the muscles of his stomach. And all the while he's giving out this constant moan, a cat getting fucked on the roof and unconcerned with the fact the whole neighborhood knows it. There's a slippery pool of pre-cum in his belly button, and a string of the sticky stuff leads from there all the way to the head of his dripping cock.

I'm about to come, and I can't believe he's held on this long. So I kneel back and prop his ass up high on my thighs. Now Iım jamming his prostate as I go in and out. Each thrust I give him I feel the twitching of his swollen gland, ready to let out its milky cream filling. His moaning is coming in little short gasps again, and then I feel the eruption start deep in his ass guts a few seconds before I see his cock explode in a giant, porn-star sized cum shot.

That's all I need, so I'm already coming before I can pull out and whip off my condom to deliver the rest of my load to his pink, waiting stomach. He bucks and moans as I cum on him. It's as if I'm still fucking his ass, he's carrying on so much. Then I collapse backward, sweaty and exhausted, looking not at all like someone who just showered ten minutes ago.

We look up at each other. We're smiling and unable to say anything, or unwilling to say anything because we know we annoy each other when we try to talk. But Kelly breaks the silence, I guess, when he says, "Here," and hands me a section of the London Times to wipe off his cum-covered belly before we head to the shower to clean ourselves up.