Connor’s Pretty Horny Pt. 10

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I had all of November to heal up from the minor sore of Alex, and I took to healing well. Within hours after the Halloween party, I had downloaded an app and arranged a series of anonymous fucks to help knock his scent off me. In fact, a bunch of those guys even texted me afterwards and said I was the best I’d ever had and how they’d like to pursue long-term relationships with me. Being a total baller, I declined and reminded them that they were all nothing but a hole to me.

Just kidding. All of that is completely made up. In reality, I did the only thing I knew how to do when life gave me lemons: I turned them into powerful lemonade fuel for my legendary homework and test prep machine. I was a solid four years away from even thinking about the GRE, but figured why not pick up a prep manual for some light reading?

But November chugged onwards and I made plans to go home for the Fall break. I’d go home and reset all of this and try again in December. But before I could get home, three things happened:

First, there was Henry.

A day or so later, I’d gone to clean my room and noticed that my cowboy hat and boots had disappeared. Jake and Dean, who honestly might have taken to playing Cowboys and Indians with each other, hadn’t seen them.

November was a tough month. I thought that September, my first few weeks of awkward college fitting in, would be the worst hell I’d endure that year. Turning back the clock of development and feeling like I’d learned nothing at all thus far turned out to be a lot more hurtful than trying to learn it all in the first place. Fuck Alex.

Henry, graciously, didn’t bring up Halloween. Bless him. He let me retreat into myself just long enough to feel better, and then dragged me right back out into the light when it was time.

“Get up. We’re going swimming.” He said, slamming my door shut behind him. I jolted up out of bed, the sheet spilling over my leg. I brought my knees to my chest, concealing throbbing morning wood. I loved Henry, but could do without these unannounced plans. That morning, he wore a ballcap and gym shorts. His hair had grown just enough now to stick out in shiny auburn tufts. Henry had no care for temperature or season when it came to dressing himself. In the middle of a blizzard, he’d rise you from bed looking like he’d just taken his morning jog.

“It’s November, Hen.” I replied, rubbing my puffy eyes and pulling the sheet up over my crotch.

“See this?” He said, reaching down and grabbing at the skin of my stomach, “You don’t get to keep that for free.” I was embarrassed and flattered, and his fingers on my skin seemed to linger.

“But it’s still November.”

“Indoor pools have been around for a century, Connor. In fact, we both pay a tidy tuition for one. Look it up.” With that, he bounded off my bed and started digging in my drawers for clothes like a dog digging through the bushes for a ball. Henry could oscillate the way we all did, from sad to happy, but he really only had two modes: Laborador or Golden Retriever. He was always on.

Then he started giggling, the worst possible sound out of someone who is presently going through your belongings. I leapt out of bed and grabbed at his shoulder but he easily kept me at arms length. He held it up and I rolled my eyes, falling back into bed, my legs dangling over the side. He held up a very thin, slightly sheer pair of underwear I had bought on a whim online. Not at a sex shop. I could never bring myself to go into a sex shop, much less buy a pair of underwear like that.

“You’re such a dick.” I said, smiling. There was something vaguely hot about Henry holding up a pair of my underwear, a thought which I’d need to work on burying later.

“But do these things even hold your dick?” He pointed to the very slight pouch.

“No, I’m just skinnier.” I replied. He raised his eyebrows. “Not skinny like that. Like I have a small waist.”

“Sure, sure, Connor. No judgement here.” He rolled his eyes, making a show of folding them and putting them away. If seeing him holding my underwear was a turn-on, talking about dicks was next level. I could talk about dicks all day.

After triumphantly pulling a pair of high cut teal shorts from a box under my bed, Henry led the way out the door.

The pool on campus was located in the rec center, a gargantuan building of all glass and brushed steel. Very modern. I had fonder memories of the rec center back home, which was very 70s and yellowed. That yellowed shade of old books, old drywall, old carpet was comfy. It was home.

This rec center was not home and exactly the kind of situation you’d only find yourself in with Henry. He leaned over the front desk and whispered to the attendant, a student worker with blonde hair that looked like he might have spent too much time around chlorine.

“Two today, Todd.” He said, grinning while snaking our IDs into his hand. Todd fumbled Henry’s card and scrambled to pick it up.

“H-have fun in there, Henry.” Todd said, casino oyna slumping down in his desk chair. He wore a cute red polo and was definitively sporty. Todd was a “maybe” hot. I could get into it if he was hung, you know what I mean?

When we passed the desk, Henry’s voice stayed low, “You’d never think I was a douche, right?”

“I already think you’re a douche, Henry.”

“No, but seriously, I think the front desk guy is into me. He freaks out like that every time.”

“So did you drag me here to register him on my gaydar?” I flippantly replied.

“No,” He turned to let me pass by him, holding the locker room door open, “I came to see you in a cute pair of trunks, duh.”

I blushed, but kept a grip better than Todd-the-front-desk-guy had. He had a point, Todd was clearly at least severely disarmed by Henry. If anything, I was surprised it wasn’t so common for Henry to encounter a daily swoon at his feet.

We grabbed open lockers. With a few guys loafing around the benches, I really didn’t want to undress. I wasn’t locker room shy really, but I felt awkward with Henry. Any other day, I’d have kept my eyes down and literally jumped into my clothes. Here, I wanted to be cool. The popular straight guy who luxuriates both in and out of clothing, you know the one. He cracks jokes in the locker room while his friends laugh, and envious losers keep their heads down and dress quickly.

While I wrestled with looking cool, Henry had already stripped. Now I had a boner to keep under control, too, since Henry’s toned pecs were my biggest weakness. Somehow, his biceps were all the more impactful when you could see the striated muscle where they connected, the way he was so fully human.

Well, human and part-Golden Retriever, as he chimed in: “Hurry uuup.” With that, I pulled my sweater and shirt off and over my head and began unbuttoning my pants. I didn’t want to be that loser, but given recent heart (mind?) break, I granted myself a little immunity. Eyes locked on the floor tile, I pulled my pants down and bent to tug the socks off my feet.

“Do we need to get you in like, a retirement home? Jesus Christ.” He said, and whip – his underwear were at his feet. There, somewhere in my peripheral vision, I could see it. The brown, curly hair in a tidy bush, and a generous tube of flawless dick. I swallowed hard and thought long and hard on what the cost per foot must be for this wonderful locker room tile. Did the college get a massive discount on tile, when you do an entire facility like this? Is tile just always on bulk pricing? Is there a machine that can lay tile yet?

Henry wasn’t one to linger. He whipped his shorts right back on and padded out to the pool area, leaving me with only the rippled view of his back. I thought of disgusting lines old guys would use on girls, like “I hate to see him leave, but I love to watch him go.” I was such a skeeve.

Swimming though. For all the hassle that I had given Henry, I do love to swim. There’s something bordering on erotic to be ‘felt’ on all sides, and pounding back with feet and arms. Henry and I kept perfect sync in separate lanes. No doubt, he could have easily outpaced me. Still, every time I came up for air, there he was.

I stood at the edge of the pool, watching Henry complete his last few laps with my arms crossed. Watching rivulets of water wash down his chest as he hoisted himself out of the water made for permanent memory material. Click. Saved.

It’d be sick to say I jerked off to the water-stained image of my best friend. It’d be deranged to say I pounded my cock to a glancing peripheral of his cut soft dick. Of course, I’d never do either of those things – but if I had, that’d be really gross, right?

After swimming with Henry, there was Robbie, the second Weird Thing that happened in November.

Robbie was relentless about befriending me. This was a scenario I had not yet ever encountered. Shy, nervous, anxious Connor was rarely chased after. I had never even bathed in the temporary faux popularity of getting the only A in the class, or winning a science fair. Evidently, to Robbie, I had either tricked him into thinking i was ultra-cool, or more likely he was somewhat deranged.

But Robbie had started to grow on me, from being a random bathroom hookup I was trying to forget into a moderately charming, reliable Stats study partner.

“Hey. I’m working. I can sneak you a free coffee.” He’d messaged me one late afternoon. I’d just started back in on the really-fun-super-interesting GMAT prep book. A free coffee was worth a visit with Robbie. He worked at the gas station kitty-corner from my dorm, where we’d first crossed paths. In the awkwardness of our sexual history, I’d stopped going over there, but today… Today was a day for starting over.

The walk over was chilly, and by now trees were more bare than dying. Really though, it was perfect coffee weather. I’m no snob (see: unnamed library coffee joint, a memory that gave me painful Alex memories) and canlı casino not at all above gas station brew.

Robbie lit up when he saw me push open the door into the small convenience store. He’d had a hair cut: short on the sides, long on the top. I’d written the look off to the realm of high schoolers by now, but it suited him. Robbie was boyish.

“A customer! Wait, what’s your rush? What’s your hurry?” He sang out. Sweeney Todd. Robbie was way too masculine to be singing to me right now.

“I thought you was a ghost.” I completed for him, grinning and leaning over the counter. It was a funny exchange, but I mentally promised to not make a habit out of completing showtunes with friends.

“Knew you’d get that one. Does anything ever go over your head?” He knocked back in a small stool, placing his Vans against the edge of the sales counter. Robbie is cute, I reminded myself. Adorable, in his way. “Whatcha up to this afternoon?”

“Nothing half as exciting as this.” I waved an arm, indicating the store.

“The thrilling life of a gas station clerk. You’re witnessing it. I get some hot guys through here though, but not until later at night.”

“Oh yeah? Maybe I’ll have to come by.” It was easy to be cool around Robbie, because Robbie already thought I was cool.

“Yeah, the guys come down from the frats for beer here. Then they come back a few hours for round two. The second trip is the fun one, for me at least.”

“How so?”

“The second time, they’re already smashed. Let’s just say, your not the only one who’s been on his knees in a bathroom.” He grinned devilishly at me. “Just kidding.”

“Are you though?” I leaned over the counter again to conceal my growing boner. Truthfully, Robbie’s lips wrapped around some frat guy’s cock wasn’t the worst image.

“I’m serious.” He let his legs fall off the counter and to the floor, “To date, you’re my sole bathroom encounter.” And it wasn’t my worst memory either. Looking at his dark denim, I could picture it: The thick, snake of a cock coiled there had filled my mouth and throat dutifully that day.

“Well, count yourself lucky I guess. What about that coffee, anyway? Or was that just to lure me here?” At this point, my cock was actually so fucking hard it hurt. Idle conversation helped.

He produced a paper cup from behind the counter, “Already prepared and everything.”

So we sat and chatted about stats and school over gas station coffees. In easily twenty minutes shooting the shit with Robbie, nobody else ever even came in. When we reached a dull point in conversation, Robbie’s voice got low.

“You know that story earlier, about the frat guys and stuff?” He said, standing up and walking around the counter.

“Don’t tell me it was true after all. I can’t take getting yanked around like that.”

He leaned against the wall and laced his fingers behind his head. “Nah, it wasn’t true. But it was pretty hot, right? I mean, in theory only.”

The position was turning me on again, Robbie up against a wall, his legs spread apart. “Yeah, it’s hot to imagine.” I replied.

“Would you blow me right now?” He asked, but was already turning to turn the lock on the gas station door. Then it clicked back in again, and it felt so good: the auto-pilot sexual drive that made decisions like these so easy. Yeah, of course I’d suck Robbie off in a gas station. That was a no brainer.

So with him pressed against the wall, he unzipped and hauled his thick cock out of his pants. I sank to my knees and noticed paint stains on his thighs. I’d never wear pants with paint stains out. Boyish behavior. He took the back of my head and guided it onto my cock, and we were back into that beautiful autopilot of that day in Stats class.

I took his cock into my mouth, and it was almost refreshing. Warm dick, the slightest taste of skin and precum as I took him down my throat. My own dick was throbbing and had trapped itself in the space between my hip and waistband. It peeked out, the pressure of my jeans pushing precum to the tip.

I could suck cock in random places all day. Bathrooms, book stores, gas stations, it didn’t make a difference. When the sex-hungry Connor pilot was in the cockpit, anything would do. Right now, Robbie’s hung cock was hitting the spot. I slid my hand up and under his shirt, grabbing at the coarse hairs of his stomach and nipples. The light groan as I deep-throated was my cue, I worked my palm over every inch of dick my mouth wasn’t wrapped around. He grabbed my forehead and chin, pushing me off his dick and lifting my face to his.

“Can I cum in your mouth?”

“Cum wherever you want.”

He plunged his fat rod back into my mouth and I eagerly accepted. I could feel his cock pulsing in my hand as I took control, milking his cum out of him. His hands clutched at the wall and he went up on his heels, blasting a thick load of cum into my mouth. Before, I’d swallowed cum quickly, salivated, and washed the bitter taste out. Today, I withdrew my mouth and kaçak casino kept the cum there – lingering in my mouth, a light string from my lip. Robbie let his still-hard cock hang there, glistening in the fluorescent light.

“Sorry, Connor.” He said, hauling it back into his boxers. I noticed them for the first time now: little rubber ducks set on a blue background. Boyish. He hadn’t even progressed to Power Rangers. I pictured Robbie playing in a bathtub filled with bubbles and a rubber duck. What a doofus.

“Why sorry?” I said, rising to my feet. My cock was still so fucking hard, but I didn’t feel like trying to get some reciprocation. I’d save that favor for later. Maybe a favor like David had given me, the sweetest ass I could remember sinking my dick into. The app hookup, my first, if you’d forgotten.

“I didn’t really want to do that. A random blowjob, again, I mean.” We’d fallen back into our original formation, him behind the counter, me anxiously rearranging packs of gum.

“I’m going to assume that’s not personal.” I said, furrowing my brow, grabbing at the edge of my sweater.

“No, actually, it is personal. You’re too good a friend and too good at letting me copy your stats homework to be fuckin’ around like that.” He replied. He seemed defeated – the horny feelings that strike all of us had overcome his judgement.

“Maybe it’s okay to just fuck around sometimes. I could use someone to fuck around with. But I’m never going to let you copy my stats homework, to be clear.” The devilish part of me responded, the part that wouldn’t mind a regular fuck buddy like Robbie – but the puritanical academic in me could never abide cheating.

“Maybe it is. Maybe.” He said, and just then – as if signaled by God that it was time for me to leave – a customer walked in.

Finally, and most bizarrely, I decided to give Jake and Dean a chance on the last night before we’d all head home for Fall break. It was honestly difficult to imagine the two being apart for a whole week, and I even made a point of asking what they’d possibly do without each other:

“You can play Xbox online, you know.” Jake reassured me. Henry had already headed home for the break as soon as classes were out that afternoon. With the lull that takes place even before a break starts, I was too ahead on homework to even attempt to distract myself with it. The result: a night in with the Jake and Dean Wonder Twins. For all the power in their best-friendship though, they sure were accomodating to me.

“Connor, dude, please have a shot.” Dean begged as the night wore on. They were playing NBA 2k, chatting with me, and had already decided they were getting hammered. I wasn’t so willing. Dean wore a jersey and basketball shorts, because that’s what dumb straight boys wear in November. Jake had opted for a sensible white T and jeans. Together, they were the picture of college boys: short haircuts, striated muscle, accessorizing with an Xbox. A brown-haired-green-eyed Dean in perfect contrast with blonde-hair-blue-eyed Jake, and yet, perfect harmony. What weirdos.

Dean clearly sensed my hesitation at taking his shot of tequila. He pointed towards the mini-basketball hoop they had tastefully placed on the closet door, very feng-shui. “If I make this shot, you have to take a shot. Deal?” He grinned at me, and I couldn’t resist. He produced the ball, and three swishes later, I was fully loaded.

The boys kept at it on 2k, but conversation loosened up a lot. Liquor puts me right to sleep, so I was lazily dangling my legs over the edge of the armchair, staring mostly at the ceiling and listening to Jake and Dean chatter about basketball. A few shots of tequila and I was gone – but those two could keep going for days.

“Con, were you ever straight?” Dean slurred out, without even so much as glancing from the TV. Some might have found the question a little offending, but I couldn’t have cared less.

“Uh, for a little while I pretended or whatever.” I replied, pulling my shoes off and throwing them across the room towards my door.

“So did you ever fuck a chick?” Jake played right off Dean, the perfect pair. My face went hot immediately. I wasn’t used to talking with them like this at all, but alcohol certainly loosened the gears.

“Never that far.” I laughed nervously, but they didn’t settle for that.

“Maybe you’re straight and you don’t even know it, you’ve never even had some pussy.” Jake said, tossing the controller on the floor as he lost again. He slumped down into the couch.

“Con, I’ll tell you a funny story, but you have to promise not to get mad.” Dean added after a pause. I grinned and nodded enthusiastically. Right now, I couldn’t even picture getting mad at his cute face. “Jake and I eiffel tower’d a girl right here, on this couch.” He motioned to the ugly, plaid love seat they sat on. Mentally, I thanked God that I had selected the armchair, but my dick was wishing I was sandwiched between the two of them right now. Jake laughed raucously and buried his face in his hands.

“Dean, that was our secret.” Jake punched Dean in the shoulder, but the two were already collapsing with laughter. “Don’t make me out yours, too.” He added.

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