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My Phantom Lover

Category: Gay Male
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Warning: I write love stories with graphic sex. Sometimes the lovers are of the same gender. So if love offends you, you’d best move on. MJL


As I sat in the unknown room, blindfolded, my hands tied behind my back, I was apprehensive, but not really scared. While it’s true there had been stories around for years about hazing stunts gone terribly wrong, resulting in serious injuries and even deaths, nothing like that had ever happened at my university. Also, the fraternity I was pledging was probably the last one where such a thing ever would happen.

It was known for the achievements of its alum members, not for being a party frat. So I waited for whatever the hazing committee had planned for me with more curiosity than concern. I had no idea that the next few minutes would change my life forever.

I heard the door open and close and then a sliding sound like something heavy being pushed in front of the door. I could tell someone was approaching me as I sat on the uncarpeted floor. It felt like it was one person rather than a group. Then I sensed the heat of another body nearby.

“Don’t be afraid. I won’t hurt you.” It was said in a low, raspy whisper, seemingly to disguise his voice.

I nodded to indicate I understood and wasn’t fearful.

“It’s just the two of us,” the voice went on. “I’ve told them I’m going to scare you by lighting some fires, putting a lighter close to your face and crap like that. I warned them we could be arrested for assault if you decided to be a prick about it so they won’t come in and nobody will tell you afterward who I am, to protect me from being sued. But that’s not what I want to do.”

“What do you want?”

“Brian, I’ll make a little smoke and walk out of here without touching you if you tell me to, but what I want to do is give you a blow job.”

I gasped at the words, too shocked to say anything.

“I’ll make you cum, nobody will ever know, and you can pretend I’m the prettiest cheerleader in the school, if you want to. Will you let me?”

I’m sure both of us were aware that, tied up as I was, he could probably do what he wanted without my permission. He could probably count on my being too embarrassed to report it afterward, too.

“Why do you want to do it to me?” I asked. “There aren’t any guys in the fraternity so ugly that they couldn’t find a partner at Wilde Oscar’s (the most prominent local gay bar). Why me?”

“I’ve never been as attracted to anyone as I am to you. You’ve been in my thoughts everyday since I first saw you. But I’ll leave you alone if you tell me to. Will you let me give you pleasure, Brian? Nothing will be expected in return.”

I liked to think that I hid it completely, but at least half of my sexual fantasies involved other men. I usually pictured a group scene, involving both sexes, but as I played with myself and got close to cumming, it was the guys I was thinking about. This event was my every wet dream come true! All of my actual activities had been with girls, however, and I was frightened by the idea of acting out my erotic thoughts about men. Frightened – but so excited my cock was already about to explode!

I couldn’t bring myself to speak, so I just nodded.

Immediately he pushed me onto my back on the floor and I felt his hands undoing my jeans and pulling them down to my knees. He pulled my jockey shorts down and I heard him gasp.

“Your cock is gorgeous! Just like the rest of you,” he rasped. His mouth was on me so fast I didn’t have time to breathe. He took me right to the hilt in one plunge, making a moaning sound in his throat that that vibrated against my cock. It seemed as if all the blood in my body was engorging my sex organs and I felt faint. My God, what he was doing felt wonderful! He devoured me like a starving man at a banquet. He gobbled every inch of my prick, then pulled his lips the length of my shaft, licking and nibbling to the end. Just as I began to crave the heat of his mouth again, he would plunge down and swallow me to the balls. I didn’t want this amazing feeling to ever stop!

“Oh, God, suck my cock! It’s so good, so good!” I was moaning. He was grunting as he orally stimulated me and I could feel his stubbly cheek against my groin when he was at he base of my prick. I couldn’t have pretended it was a girl doing this to me if I wanted to. This was a man, all man, and it made me so hot thinking about it that I was ready to explode. I tried to hold back my orgasm, not wanting this to be over too fast, but I was so swept away by the pleasure I couldn’t hold out. “I’m cumming!” I groaned. He sucked hard then and I could feel him swallowing as my semen pumped into his throat.

I was lost in a fog of ecstasy for a few moments. When I became aware again, he was licking my prick in gentle strokes. It struck me as such a tender gesture that something welled up in me I’d never experienced before. I felt a connection to this unseen, unknown man, who had given me such pleasure, that I had never felt with anyone before. All too soon he was pulling my shorts and jeans back up, doing up the zipper and the waist snap. His large, slightly rough hands lingered a few seconds just above my waistband and I unconsciously pressed my stomach up against them. I felt a rush of disappointment when he moved away.

“I’m going to burn some things in a wastebasket now, to back up the cover story. Don’t worry. Nothing will get out of control. The guys outside may have heard something, but these doors are thick, so they wouldn’t have made out any words. I’ll tell them you got a little jumpy when you felt the heat and yelped a little.”

I didn’t remember yelping, but in the moment of explosion I could have hooted like an owl and I wouldn’t remember it.

“Why don’t you singe a little of my hair to make it look good?” I suggested. I really just wanted him close to me again. I wanted any clues I could get about who my phantom lover was. One way or another I was going to make sure this happened again!

“All right, but be very still. I don’t want to burn you.”

I was sitting up by this time and I sensed him squatting down next to me. I heard his cigarette lighter snap and felt a little warmth, then smelled the acrid odor of burning hair. I was pissed at myself for not taking a deep whiff of him before that, because any scent that might give me a clue about his identity was covered by the burnt smell.

“There, just a little fried at the ends to make it look good.”

Suddenly there were warm lips on mine and just as suddenly they were gone.

“Thank you, Brian. You’ve made me happier than you’ll ever know.”

I was too filled with emotion to say anything as he moved whatever he’d put in front of the door.

“The escorts will come for you in ten minutes,” he told me, and I heard him open the door and leave. I could hear a little buzz from outside the room as he shut the door behind him. Whoever had stationed themselves out there, asking how I’d reacted to my “torture,” I supposed.

I sat there in a daze, trying to collect myself before the hazing committee escorts came to get me. I’d never been so sexually sated and so utterly confused in my life. Did my intense enjoyment of what had happened mean I was gay? Girls had gone down on me a few times in my young life and I’d enjoyed it, but I’d never come close to anything so mind-blowingly powerful before. I think I had myself convinced that it was just the whole exotic nature of the experience, being bound and blindfolded and all, that had made it so overwhelming. Until I realized I wanted to find my phantom so I could do the same thing to HIM!

Thank God the next day was Saturday and I didn’t have any classes. The hazing, known as Hell Night, followed the official acceptance of the new pledges and I had already moved into the frat house. My roommate had, too, but he’d gone home for the weekend so I had the room to myself. Which was a good thing, since I couldn’t seem to keep my hands out of my pants. I would start to think about what had happened and I would have to jerk off again. By noon my cock was beginning to get sore, but my horniness was as acute as it had been all day.

I tried to get myself under control. “I’ll never figure out who he was if I don’t start thinking logically,” I told myself. Last night, after the escorts had brought everybody into the main room of the house, I looked around carefully. All through the speeches of welcome and laughter about the guys whose hazing left them with paint on their faces or weird patterns shaved into their hair, I was watching the older frat brothers for any sign that would tip the identity of my phantom. Nobody stared at me (except for some notice of my burnt hair) or said anything that revealed they knew who had come into that room or that they were the one person besides myself who knew what really happened in there. I had gone to bed without a single clue to identify my mystery lover.

Saturday, when I was finally too exhausted to play with myself anymore, I began to analyze what I knew. He had to be one of the frat leaders, most likely a senior. They were the ones who planned and controlled the hazing activities, on the supposition that they were mature enough to keep things from getting dangerous. He must have major persuasive skills to talk the others into letting him “haze” me by himself. After all, watching some freshman get embarrassed was the point of the ritual. It was unlikely he was one of the four “out” gay guys in the frat. Only one of them was a senior and he was a true nerd type. I couldn’t picture him having the nerve to do something like that or being able to talk the others into letting him go alone into a room where a pledge was tied up and blindfolded. Besides, his hands were too small. I remembered the big, rough, masculine hands on my stomach. I resisted the urge to jerk off again and went on with my analysis.

I didn’t have much to go on as far as height or weight were concerned. My position on the floor didn’t give me much perspective. I didn’t feel any long hair brushing against me, so he probably had it cut regularly. He had a lighter, but I didn’t remember the smell of cigarettes on him, or pot, or booze, for that matter. I knew some of the guys had been involved in one or more of those activities earlier in the evening, so I mentally took them off my list of suspects.

I thought about the men who remained on the list and I really couldn’t think of any true criteria for removing any of them. Some had steady girl friends, but that wasn’t proof they weren’t gay or bi-sexual. I flopped on my bed and stared at the ceiling trying to sort through all the possibilities. Finally I asked myself, “So who do you WANT it to be?” That answer came easily: Steve Vernon. If someone asked me to describe the ideal man I would have painted them a word picture of Steve. He exuded an easy-going confidence that I envied. He seemed to effortlessly make everyone he talked to feel like they were fascinating to him. He could have sold eyeglasses to a blind man and left him feeling grateful to have encountered Steve.

Someone with vision would have enjoyed him even more, because the guy was great looking. Someone in the frat had mentioned that Steve was a triathelete. I’d seen him biking around campus and when I struggled over to the pool a couple of mornings to get some laps in, Steve was always there. His body in a Speedo was a sight to behold. He had wide shoulders, a perfect six-pack, and a lean, tight ass. (He was featured in all of my orgy fantasies of late.) His face wasn’t classically handsome. It was little too rugged for that, but his dark eyes sparkled and his lop-sided grin drew you in and made you smile back. His dark brown hair always seemed to be slightly windblown. The whole package added up to a very attractive man.

“God, it would be wonderful if Steve was my phantom lover,” I thought. If I could prove it, I was definitely going to be all over the guy. I’d make him pay. I force him to have sex with me until he passed out from exhaustion. That thought, of course, resulted in my dropping trou and taking care of business AGAIN.

By Monday I’d pulled myself together enough to get to my classes. I was pre-med and enrolled in a couple of the tough courses that the university used to weed-out those who wouldn’t be able to cut it in medical school. I needed to focus on my work, but it took all the will I had. I did OK during the day and when I studied in the evening, but after I got into bed at night the hot memories and fantasies would overwhelm me. Steve was no longer just one of the players in my sexual thoughts. He was the whole show. I had no idea if he was my phantom lover or not, but he was firmly established as the object of my lust. I got up to go to the bathroom and jerk off so often my roommate asked me if I had a bladder infection.

As casually as I could manage, I stayed close to Steve. I made sure I swam every morning at the same time he did and when I found out he ran around the track for an hour most nights, I took that up as my habit as well. I was an emotional basket case, but, damn, I was getting into good shape!

I often saw a pretty redheaded girl with Steve and they seemed very close, but somehow it didn’t look sexual. He seemed affectionate and protective of her, like I am with my sisters, but I didn’t see any lingering kisses or ass-grabbing. I saw the same redhead with a girl from my chem class quite often, so I asked about her.

“That’s Bree, my roommate,” Jenny told me. “Are you interested in meeting her? She’s a great girl, but I don’t think she’s ready for a boyfriend right now.”

“Oh, I thought she was going with one of my frat brothers, Steve Vernon. I’ve seen them around together. I just mentioned her because she looked like a nice person.”

“Oh, you know Mr. Wonderful? He’s not her boyfriend, but he sort of takes care of her.” Jenny’s eyes clouded over.

“Does she need taking care of for some reason?” I asked.

“Listen, Brian, I’ve only known you a couple of months, but I get the impression you’re a decent guy. Can you keep your mouth shut if I tell you something?”

I assured Jenny that I could be trusted.

“Well, last year Bree and I were freshmen, and the older guys really swooped down on us. I’ve got four brothers who talk about their friends so I’m kind of jaded about men. I like to think I can spot the predators, but Bree grew up with only her Mom, and she was just too trusting. One of the seniors asked her out and talked her into coming to his off-campus apartment so he could pick something up and before she knew what was happening he was all over her. When she resisted he smacked her around and raped her.”

“Jesus, the poor kid,” I said. I was horrified. I could just picture some asshole doing that to one of my sisters. “I’d have hunted him down and ripped his cock off.”

“Well,” said Jenny, smiling at me, “we may have to start calling you the OTHER Mr. Wonderful. That’s pretty much what your friend Steve set out to do when he saw Bree all bruised and dazed, trying to make her way back to our dorm afterward. He and Bree barely knew each other then, but he stopped her and asked what was wrong and when she blurted it out, he got out his cell phone, called me to come take care of her, and when I got there he went looking for the guy. An hour later the two of them showed up at the campus police station where the rapist turned himself in for ‘going too far with a young lady who hadn’t given full permission.’ He explained the fact that he had a bleeding nose, bruises all over his upper body, and a dislocated shoulder by saying he ‘tripped’ on the way over. The fact that Steve had swollen, bleeding knuckles was ignored.”

“Did the prick get convicted?”

“Bree agreed to let him plead guilty to assault and battery and attempted rape, so she wouldn’t have to testify. She was in no shape to do it at the time. He got a five year sentence and he has to register as a sex-offender when he gets out. Steve encouraged her all the way and he’s kind of appointed himself her big brother ever since. I’m not sure she would have stayed in school if he hadn’t been here. He really is a great guy.”

Hearing that story added respect for Steve to the lust I was already feeling. “Shit,” I thought, “I’m falling in love with a guy who is probably as straight as they come and would beat up my phantom if he knew what he did to me.”

I made a point of talking to Steve every chance I got. I’m embarrassed to admit I read the same novels I saw him reading, just so I’d have something to say. We seemed to just fall into being pals. One of the things we discovered we had in common is that both of us are skiers. I was overjoyed when he asked me if I’d like to join a bunch of the older frat brothers on a ski trip during Christmas break. My folks were visiting my oldest sister in California, so I had no problem getting away. I eagerly agreed to go. It seemed to me that his eyes lit up when I accepted, but I quickly convinced myself that it was wishful thinking.

The snow-pack was a little low that year and consequently business was down at the lodge so Steve charmed the management into giving us such a good rate we were able to stay for a whole week. Several of us drove up to the mountain together in a huge old van. I managed to sit next to Steve all the way. I realized I was behaving like a giddy schoolgirl with a first crush, but I couldn’t help it. When we arrived at the lodge Steve checked everybody in and I was thrilled out of my mind when he handed around the room keys and said, “You’re in with me, Brian. That OK?”

I managed a casual, “Sure,” but inside I was screaming, “Yes, yes, yes!”

When we got to the room there was a sofa facing a TV set, some tables and lamps, and a king-sized bed. Steve said, “I think the sofa pulls out into a bed.”

“Even if it doesn’t, I could sleep on it like that. It’s long enough,” I told him. Of course, if I had my horny way with him, we could both use the bed.

We dumped our luggage, changed into our ski wear, and went out to meet the others on the slopes. We had a blast all afternoon. Steve was by far the best skier in the group. I was probably the second-best. We raced each other several times and kind of showed off for each other. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had so much fun.

We grabbed a bite of dinner with the other guys and then Steve said, “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’ve got muscles that are reminding me I overworked them today. I think I’ll go soak in the hot tub and hit the sack early.” We agreed on what time we’d meet for breakfast. Just as Steve was leaving, I said, “I think I’ll go up, too. I want to finish the book I’m reading before I go to sleep.”

Each of the rooms in the lodge had their own hot tub on a small private deck. I was trying to figure out a way to get myself into the tub along with Steve when he brought the subject up. “You’ll be less achy tomorrow if you soak, Brian. Why don’t you come in before you settle down with your book?”

“Sounds good,” I managed to say, around the lump in my throat. “I didn’t remember to bring a swimsuit, though.”

“Me neither,” he said and proceeded to strip his clothes off.

I’d thought he looked awesome in a Speedo, but he was magnificent without one! Every inch of his body was trim, hard, and all male. His chest was moderately hairy with a thicker patch at the base of his prick. A prick that was standing at full attention. It wasn’t porno movie huge, but he’d have bragging rights in any locker room in America. Damn, the sight of it had me absolutely salivating.

He went out and climbed into the hot tub and I took my clothes off with shaky hands and went to join him. I had a rock-hard erection, too, of course. I looked at everything except him, trying to tamp-down my excitement, so I didn’t know if he was watching me as I approached the tub. I climbed in and settled back on the opposite side of the tub, facing Steve. The water felt great and I found my tired muscles getting more and more relaxed. We chatted about all kinds of stuff, none of it sexual, yet a knot of tension in my groin never relaxed at all.

“Feeling better?” Steve asked, after we’d been soaking for about twenty minutes.

“Yeah, I really am. Just a little sore across my back.”

“Maybe I can help that. I’m told I give a good massage.”

His hands all over me. Oh, sure, I’m going to turn THAT down.

“That would be great.” I was so excited I had to remind myself to breathe.

We got out of the tub and Steve went into the bathroom, emerging in a few seconds with a pile of towels. We dried ourselves off and he flipped the down comforter off the bed and spread a dry towel on the bottom sheet. I laid on it, face down.

“I’ve got some massage lotion in here somewhere,” Steve said as he rummaged through his luggage. “It’s a sports product, nothing girly smelling,” he assured me with that lop-sided grin that always made something in my groin contract. “Here it is,” he told me as he came to the side of the bed next to me.

He started with my neck and shoulders and every nerve and muscle seemed to melt beneath his hands. His touch was firm, but never so hard that it hurt. I tried to be quiet, but little moans of pleasure would escape from my throat against my will as he manipulated my flesh. He worked his way down my back at a steady pace, pausing occasionally to put more lotion on his hands. When he reached the area just below my waistline, I could feel my heart start to beat double time in my chest. He kept slowly moving lower until he was kneading my ass cheeks. His fingertips brushed against my asshole a few times, causing my already erect cock to get harder. He didn’t linger on my butt any longer than he did anywhere else, but kept moving down to my thighs, calves, and feet.

The effect the massage was having on me couldn’t have been more erotic, but he really hadn’t done anything overtly sexual at all. I was still in the dark about whether Steve was my phantom lover, and had set the whole trip up to get me alone in an intimate situation, or whether he was simply giving a buddy a massage to relax him.

“You can roll over now,” he told me. I did, knowing full well he would see my hard-on dripping with precum.

He didn’t say anything, but just started again rubbing me from my neck down. He kept the pressure constant as he worked on my arms and then my pecs. When he started down my stomach every muscle in my lower body tensed. His hands kept moving and, without breaking his pace at all, he suddenly had my prick in his hands. He massaged it with the same kneading motions he had used all over my body, rather than the up and down pulling I used to masturbate, but the outcome was the same. I had a massive orgasm and shot cum all over Steve and on my own chest. He said nothing and just kept massaging until he reached my feet. He then picked up one of the towels, wiped me dry and then cleaned himself.

Following his lead, I did nothing to outwardly acknowledge what had just happened, but now I knew that, whether or not Steve had been the man in the room that special night, his intentions this week were clearly sexual. I got up off the bed and removed the towel I had been lying on and replaced it with a clean one. I picked up the massage lotion bottle and waited. Steve responded to my unspoken message and got on the bed on his stomach.

I followed the same routine he had, and was delighted that he couldn’t keep quiet any more than I had been able to. His moans of pleasure had my cock getting hard again in an amazingly short time. When I reached his ass I very deliberately stroked my fingers across his asshole and was rewarded with a sharp intake of his breath. He rolled over when I finished with his feet without my saying anything. As I worked my way down his chest I could feel his heart slamming under my hands. When I was within an inch of his massively erect cock I said, “It was you that night, wasn’t it? The hazing?”

For the first time since we had gotten out of the hot tub I looked him straight in the eyes.

“Yes.” He paused and searched my face. “Do you hate me for what I did?”

“I’ll show you just how much I hate you,” I told him, and I swooped down on his erection with my mouth and took every inch of it in. I had to fight a gag reflex for a second, but I learned how to breathe to get past it very quickly. I got lost in the memory of that wonderful night when he’d done this for me and tried to give him the same incredible sensations. He was groaning and pumping his hips, saying, “Oh, God, Brian!” over and over. Time lost all meaning, but it seemed too soon when he gasped, “I’m cumming! Do you want me to pull out?” My answer was to clamp my lips around his organ like a vise and wait for his cum to pump into my mouth. It came so fast and in such a huge quantity that I couldn’t swallow much of it. I savored the taste of what remained in my mouth and then licked his softening prick as he had done mine. He made a noise which sounded almost like a sob and I reluctantly took my mouth off of him to look into his eyes.

What I saw there hit me in the gut like a sucker punch. I’d never seen a look of such utter adoration in anyone’s eyes in my life. His face said it all. I really didn’t need to hear the words, but he spoke them anyway. “I love you, Brian.”

My first instinct was to say it back, but he pulled me to him and kissed me before I could speak. It was a wild, passionate kiss that felt like it reached down to my soul. I sprawled on top of him on the bed and kissed him over and over again.

Eventually he rolled on his side, holding me to him, our legs tangled together and our genitals lightly touching.

“Please don’t let what I said scare you off. I won’t ask anything you don’t want to give. It’s just that I’ve been carrying this feeling for you around for a while now and I had to tell you. I think I would have said it even if you hadn’t just given me the best blow job of my life.” He grinned then, “Had a lot of practice, have you?”

“You’re the only man I’ve ever been with,” I told him, simply. “I’ve been attracted to men for years, but I’ve never had sex with one until you.”

I could see a million emotions in his eyes, including confusion, joy, and worry, but no doubt or rejection of what I’d told him.

“I would hate myself if I drew you into something that you think is wrong. Being gay is who I am, Brian. I’ve known that since I was twelve and I’ve been active since I was sixteen. But if you weren’t acting on your feelings because you thought it was bad….”

“No,” I hurried to assure him, “nothing like that. I’ve just been a coward. It was easier to try to pretend I was what society says I should be, than to face scorn and rejection. This would have happened sooner or later. I’m just glad it happened with you.”

He kissed me again, softly and tenderly. Some hard little corner of my heart melted and, for the first time, I felt that I could be capable of truly loving someone with my heart, soul, and body. The depth of my emotions were overwhelming me so, to break the tension, I said, “Sixteen, huh? You must have been a randy little devil.”

Steve grinned at me. “You don’t know the half of it. In those hormone driven years I think my only criteria for choosing a partner was if they were a male human. Thank God I knew enough to protect myself from disease. It got old fast to sleep around, though, and I tried to settle down, but even though I met some nice guys I could just never make it last. I began to believe I wasn’t capable of falling in love – until last spring.”

“Spring?” My heart dropped. I hadn’t started at the university until this fall.

“You remember when you came to campus with your Dad to check it out? Last April?”

“Yes, of course, but I didn’t meet you then. I would have remembered, believe me.”

“Remember the incident with the dog and the little boy?”

“Sure, that was so upsetting.” I’d been in a hurry to get to a meeting with one of the admissions officers and, as I was leaving the motel and hurrying across the main street at the edge the campus, a dog was hit by a car right in front of me. The car just kept on going and I was kneeling down to see how injured the dog was, when a kid of nine or ten came running up. He was sobbing and babbling about how Max had slipped out of his collar and run ahead. He threw himself on the animal in hysteria. I got them both over to the curb, with help from some people who had gathered around. I kept telling the kid I’d get help and a cell phone appeared out of nowhere. I got the boy to give me his phone number and called his Mom. She told me she’d call her vet and be right there. The dog was still alive, but he was awfully still. I held the little boy and tried to reassure him, until his parents showed up, with the vet getting there right behind. He immediately loaded the animal in his van and told the parents to follow him to his clinic. They thanked me and hugged me and I wished them good luck with Max. Then I went to the admissions office to explain why I missed the appointment. Luckily they were great about it.

“Were you there?” I asked Steve. The people in the crowd were just a blur to me because I was focused on the boy and his pet.

“I gave you my cell phone.”

“I had no idea. I didn’t really see anyone, except the kid.”

“I know. You just honed in on what he needed and took such care of him. I’d already seen you on campus with your Dad and had a significant case of lust going for you, but the way you treated that boy touched me so deeply. By the way, I checked with the vet later and the dog made it. Only a small limp to remember it by. I, however, was left with a giant obsession about a man I might never see again.

When you started school here this year I made sure I introduced myself to you and invited you to rush our fraternity. As I got to know you, I was just swamped by what I was feeling. When I set up what happened on Hell Night I was in complete denial about why I was isolating you. I kept telling myself I just wanted a few moments alone with you. But when I walked in there, well, I lost control in a way that has never happened to me before.”

“I’d say you showed me heaven on Hell Night if I wasn’t afraid you’d sock me.”

“I should. That’s a real groaner, but I’m glad it meant something to you. It meant everything to me.”

I put my hand against his cheek and looked into his eyes for a full minute before I could say, “Speaking of groaning, I’d like to hear some more of those sounds you make when you cum and I can’t help but notice that you’ve got another nice woody going there.”

“That would make two of us, stud.”

“So, interested? Or are you bored with me already?”

“Brian, I think I could make love to you for a thousand years and never be bored.”

I had to tell him then. “I love you, Steve.”

It took no time at all until we were in a sexual frenzy again. This time we got into the sixty-nine position and pleasured each other for a deliciously long time. I knew then that a thousand years wouldn’t be enough to love this man.

The rest of the week was amazing. We still refer to it as our honeymoon. If our buddies didn’t figure out what was going on, they must have been blind. We kept excusing ourselves right after dinner, pleading exhaustion, but we’d always be sleepy-eyed in the morning. One night we didn’t make it to dinner at all because Steve whispered to me as we were coming in from skiing, “You know those four orgasms we gave each other last night? Tonight we’re going to break the record.” Suddenly food was the last appetite I was interested in sating. That week Steve taught me every way two men can make love and declared me to be the fastest learner he ever met.

As a frat officer Steve was entitled to a private room, so when classes began again I left my things in my room, but I slept with Steve every night. Eventually the need for sex began to fall into a more natural balance with the rest of our busy lives, but a fierce desire for each other was always there, ready to ignite at a moment’s notice.

The first people we told about our relationship were Bree and Jenny. They were delighted for us. We still see them, and the men they eventually married, regularly. It was a little rougher to tell our parents and siblings. Some were shocked and upset, but everyone eventually came around.

We got an off-campus apartment the next fall and Steve started graduate school in business administration. For Christmas that year Bree and Jenny gave us versions of those “I’m with Stupid” T-shirts, only ours said, “I’m with Mr. Wonderful” and “I’m with the OTHER Mr. Wonderful.” We were laughing about them when we got home and then Steve said, “Let’s wear them on campus tomorrow.” So we did, and, just like that, we were “out.”

It’s been ten wonderful years now, and the sight of Steve still takes my breath away. Having him by my side when I graduated from medical school and being able to count on him while I did my grueling internship and started my residency in pediatrics has made me so happy. Meanwhile he has become one of the youngest senior executives in a major company here in town. When I set up my practice next year we’ll pick a city where his career can take him even higher.

There have been troubles, of course. We fight about the usual stupid shit that all couples do and for a long time Steve worried that I would eventually come to regret I’d never been with another man. Finally I told him that if he said it again I’d kill him and go find one. He laughed and then he fucked my brains out and that was the last I heard of that bullshit. When I can spend my life in bed with Mr. Wonderful, why on earth would I want anything else?

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