A Thansgiving Spit-Roasting

A Spit-roasted Turkey on Thanksgiving

Even now, as I venture through my forties, I enjoy taking a moment to recall some of the high-points of my sexual life. With the Thanksgiving holiday weekend approaching, I'm reminded of one very special holiday, more than twenty years ago now.

My freshman year at college was an eye-opener, to say the least. That first year away from home at the University of Texas, I had decided not to make the trip back home for the long Thanksgiving weekend. Instead, I was planning on enjoying the cafeteria's Thanksgiving buffet, which many of my upper classmen friends said was outstanding. I also had a paper due after the break that I had yet to get started on.

At this point in my first year at college, few knew of my sexuality. I'd enjoyed a couple of romances with other inquisitive young men on campus, but no one seemed to want to get hooked into anything long-term. I don't think I did, either. I was enjoying myself, exploring my new world. I'd been told about a few hot cruising spots, and had tested the waters. My favorite had become the Pilot truck stop, out near Interstate 35 north of town. The back, "handicap" stall had a gloryhole cut into it, behind the toilet paper holder, and I'd discovered that truck drivers enjoyed a warm, willing mouth after long hours on the road. One of my friends also suggested that if I wanted, I could invite a trucker on into the stall for something more satisfying. Up to that point, I hadn't gathered up the nerve. I didn't mind sucking an anonymous dick off, and gulping down the mouth-filling load, but I wasn't too sure about letting a guy I'd never met before sticking it to me, bent over a toilet bowl. That time, however, would come.

As a freshman, living in the dorms, I was stuck in a ground floor room with two others. Our room was a single room, with a bathroom attached, kind of like a hotel room. All of us were academics, with Kelsey on a mathematics major, and Frank on an English major. Both wanted to be teachers, and often would joke about how the best way to bang teen girls was to be their understanding teacher. I thought they both had strange motives for wanting to teach, but what did I care? I'd already been having sex-dreams about my own math instructor, Mr. Alexander.

My roommates were straight arrows, and I hid my own twisted sexuality from them. They were good guys, and we often went out to dinner, or watched movies together, but nothing else. If one of them was to bring a girl back to the room, the others would leave for the evening and hang out in the commons area or dayroom. It didn't happen often, though. Neither of my room mates were all that good looking.

Back to Thanksgiving. As it would turn out, Kelsey had a girlfriend and was going to stay on campus for the weekend. Frank had gone home, so I was the only one being "put-out" by his wanting to spend time with her. Kelsey's girlfriend was something of a porker, to be blunt, and I think the only reason he was seeing her was because "she give's great head!", in his words. For my part, I thought I did, too. Of course, after enjoying the Thanksgiving meal in the cafeteria, I wondered back to my room only to find the "signal" hanging on the doorknob. A length of red cord Frank had brought from his art class. Cliché, I know. So, I turned around and headed for the dayroom to see what was on the big screen television. And of course, it being Thanksgiving, it was a football game. The Packers and the Lions. There were six other guys hanging out, watching from the worn over-stuffed chairs and sofa that the school had furnished some years ago. Several of the guys, whom I knew only by sight, were drinking beers. I wasn't offered one, so I went over and bought a soda out of the nearby machine. I popped the tab on my Dr. Pepper and settled into one of the deep chairs towards the back to kill the afternoon.

When halftime came, a few of the guys got up and headed out. I heard them discussing the game, as well as the buffet, so I assumed they were headed for the cafeteria. A couple stuck around to watch the half-time show. One got up, stretched, and then turned to look right at me.

"You live in this dorm?" he asked, with a deep voice that made my chest rumble. He had tattoos on both arms, which were strong but not huge. He was at least six-foot tall, if not a few inches more. His red hair was cut short and he had let his sideburns grow down to his chin. His chin was square, and his entire face reminded me of Kurt Russell in that moment.

"Yeah, down the hall," I replied.

He nodded, giving the direction I'd indicated a glance. "Freshman, eh?"

I nodded in reply. "Yeah." I watched him as he went over a bought a Dr. Pepper for himself, though I'd noticed that he had been drinking a beer earlier.

"You like the Packers?" he asked me a moment later, after taking a long drink from his soda.

"Not really," I replied. "More of a Steelers fan," I added. He nodded.

"I'm a Cowboys man, through and through," he said as he took a seat on the arm of the chair where I sat. "I'm from Dallas, matter of fact."

"You don't sound like a Texan," I commented.

He laughed. "I wasn't born there. My family's from Richmond, originally, but we've moved around. I went to high school in Dallas, though, so that's where I claim, these days."

"I'm from western Pennsylvania, between Pittsburgh and the Ohio border," I offered, though I don't think he was impressed. He drank more of his soda, and then leaned nearer and in a softer voice, he said, "I've seen you around, and I know you have a thing for guys." He straightened up and I looked up at him. He was grinning down at me, with a sparkle in his eyes. "I've got beers up in my room, if you'd like one?"

I didn't know what he was doing. He stood up and tilted his head towards the stairs leading up to the second and third floors. The two others still in the dayroom weren't paying us any attention, I noticed. "Sure," I croaked, and stood to follow him. I tossed my empty can into the waste basket and followed him up.

Once we hit the third floor, where only Juniors and Seniors had rooms, he looked back over his shoulder and introduced himself, finally. "I'm Drake, by the way."

"Rodney," I replied as I followed him down the carpeted, quiet hallway. He stopped at a door halfway down and pulled a set of keys from his jeans. He opened the door and I followed him on in.

His dorm room was very much the same as mine, except that he was the only occupant. Just inside the door was the bathroom, to the left. And next came a small kitchenette, which we didn't have in the freshman dorms. It was little more than a half refrigerator under the counter, which held a microwave oven, a small sink below the upper cabinet, and a bar-like counter that separated the kitchen form the living area. Drake's living area was dominated by a large bed. Easily a queen-sized bed, with a lot of pillows piled against the head-board, which doubled as a bookshelf. In the far corner, next to the window, was a corner desk, with a computer, dozens of books and notebooks, a small lamp, and an office chair pushed in. Obviously, his work station. A chest of drawers stood next to that, with a television atop it, facing the bed. There was no other furniture. The bed's size forbid it.

"I don't normally entertain," Drake explained, "but when I do, it's usually in the bed." I looked at him then, and he was grinning wide. He hesitated a moment, and then turned to retrieve two beers from the low refrigerator. I couldn't help but check out his ass, snug in the tight jeans, as he bent over. My cock twitched. What was going on here, I asked myself.

"I hope you like Silver Bullets," he grinned as he handed the Coor's Light bottle to me. I nodded and muttered something as he took hold of my hand, and the bottle, to pop the cap off. His fingers brushed across the back of my hand as he let it go, and sent jolts of electricity up my arm. I might have been trembling as I took a gulp of the ice-cold beer. Drake drank from his and I watched as he rolled into his big bed and propped up against the headboard. He reached for a remote control and aimed it at the television. It popped on, but I don't know what it was tuned to. I was too busy watching Drake pull his t-shirt up and off, revealing his naked upper torso. My eyes were locked onto his strong, lightly-hairy chest while he kicked off his shoes. After another pull at the beer, he looked over at me and asked, "You going to stand there all day? Or do you want to relax?" He patted the bed beside himself, grinning as he did.

I hesitated a bit longer, still in a daze as to what was happening, and then pried my feet out of my own tennis shoes before tentatively sitting on the edge of the bed. "Relax, buddy. Lay back and enjoy your beer."

I did as Drake directed, and soon I was propped up beside my host, watching television. It was only then that I noticed that the television sat atop a VCR, and it was a movie that we were watching. "You enjoy porn?" Drake asked, even as the screen was suddenly filled with a strong-bodied stud dropping his beach towel away. His cock was semi-hard, shaved clean, and soon was engulfed in the mouth of a big-tittied blonde bimbo. I don't think I ever answered.

We sat watching the movie for a good five minutes. I was uncomfortable, since my cock was beginning to grow in my jeans at an awkward angle. Drake seemed to be relaxed, and once he reached down to reposition his own cock within his jeans. I noticed his bulge and found my eyes on it more than the action on the television. So it was that I missed out on the arrival of a second hard-bodied stud. This one was just as naked, with a long, semi-hard cock as well. The bimbo released the first cock and let it hang while turning her oral attentions to the new-comer. I found myself looking more at that cock than the girl, since there wasn't much of her to see, anyway. The first guy knelt down a moment later and told her, "Suck his cock deep, Trixie," as if she needed to be told. I turned my eyes back to Drake's bulge then, listening to the sounds of Trixie slurping on a cock, when Drake reached down and give himself a full handed squeeze.

"There you go," he muttered, and I looked up to see the first stud open his mouth and Trixie guide the new-comer's dick in. The first stud started sucking his friend deep while Trixie went lower to attack his forgotten member.

"You like bisexual stuff, do you?" Drake asked a moment later. That was when I noticed that I was rubbing my dick through my jeans pretty openly, just as he was. "So, do I," he admitted. I was looking at his hand on his bulge when he added, "I also enjoy getting blown while watching porn." I looked up at him then. He was grinning wide. "Want to blow me, Rodney?" he asked, and then I heard his zipper. I looked back to his lap and he was already pushing his jeans, and underwear, down. His cock, surrounded by a well-trimmed forest of dark red hair, sprang up.

"Go ahead, Rodney. I know you want to. I know you're a fag and enjoy sucking dick. Go ahead and suck mine." I didn't like the word "fag", but he was right. I enjoyed a hard cock in my mouth as any fag, and I wanted to suck his right then and there. It had become obvious that this was the reason he had asked me up to his room. Fine by me. I'd have to find out later how he found out about me, though.

I put the beer bottle I held on the headboard shelf, gave Drake a long look, just to see if he was fucking with me, and then I quickly slipped down the bed. I leaned over, my eyes going to his upraised cock sticking out above his underwear, and reached for it. My fingers wrapped around the shaft even as I lowered my lips to the pink knob. I felt his manly warmth on my lips and wrapped them tightly just below the ridge of its crown.

"Oooohhh, man!" Drake sighed as I began to run my tongue around and over his knob. I squeezed his shaft and then began to stroke him, up and down. Drake grabbed my head and began to push me down his length, and I opened wider to accept his cock. It wasn't as if I was resisting, only I wanted to take my time and enjoy him. Drake had other ideas, however. Within seconds, he was forcing my head up and down, my mouth running along the top half of his cock, while he also humped his hips upward. I reached into his underwear and scooped up his ball-sack, making him moan when I gave them a gentle squeeze.

"That's a good fag! Suck my dick down, Rodney!" Drake moaned. His fingers curled into my shaggy hair but he had stopped forcing my head down. I was bobbing on his knob good enough by then. I used one hand to massage his balls while using my other to twist and stroke the three of four inches of his shaft at the base. After just a few moments I began to taste the salty flavor of his pre-cum on my tongue, and I hummed with delight. Drake responded with a moan of pleasure himself.

Drake began to pull at my t-shirt and I let his cock drop free long enough for him to pull it off. Once it was tossed to the floor, I returned to lapping at his knob. "Get my jeans off," he insisted, and I let his cock go again while I tugged his jeans down and off. Once fully naked on his bed, Drake relaxed back into the pile of pillows and spread his legs wide. His heavy balls, covered in dark red fur, hung low, covering the brown-eye of his anus, while his cock twitched above. My mouth was watering as I returned to sucking and slurping, quite noisily in fact, on my new lover's manhood.

After I had spent a few moments enjoying his scrotum with my lips and tongue, Drake said, "Why don't you get those jeans off, Rodney?" I sat up and quickly went at my belt. I was watching him watch me as I stripped naked. He had a hunger in his eyes that I'd seen a few times in the past. He wasn't looking to reciprocate, to give as he'd been getting. Instead, he had that predatory gleam in his eyes that I'd come to enjoy.

Drake was stroking his cock as I stripped, and when my own cock sprang into view, he seemed to give me a quick once-over. As I returned to his side, kneeling on the bed, he reached up and guided my head back into his lap. "Get back to work, Dude," he moaned, even as I gulped his cock back into my willing mouth. "That's a good fag. Suck that dick."

At some point while I worked his dick over, he began to work on my ass. He grabbed my cheeks and squeezed them with one hand, eventually sliding his finger along my crack. When he touched my anus, I moaned into his cock. It was then that the door to his room opened.

"Hey! Carlo!" Drake called. "I was beginning to wonder if you were coming over today."

"Jeez, Drake. Where'd you get the plaything?" Carlo had a thick Hispanic accent, and I turned to look back at him. He was dark skinned, about my height, with dark, curly hair and a broad mustache. He was built like Drake in that he was strong and lean. He wore dark jeans and a white t-shirt. He was looking hard at my upraised ass, which was aimed his way as he came into the living area.

"Rodney here lives down stairs," Drake explained. "I hooked him in the day room."

"He's a freshman?" Carlo asked as he reached out and stroked my naked butt. Drake still had my head in his hand and forcing me up and down his shaft as he and his friend talked.

"Yeah. I'd heard about a cute freshman who'd been giving head in the library johns," Drake told Carlo, thus answering a few of my questions. "I took a change that he was the one. Sure enough. Soon as I pulled out, he was on me like a wolf on a jackrabbit."

I glanced back and saw that Carlo was pulling his shirt up and off. He was bare-chested and ripped. I might have moaned a little as he stripped. "Keep sucking, bitch!" Drake insisted, and I returned my attention to enjoying his mouth-filling meat.

"Can I get a bit of that?" Carlo asked after another minute, and Drake pushed my face out of his crotch.

"Say hello to my Texican friend, Rodney," Drake told me, and I twisted around to find Carlo standing at the side of the bed, just as naked as Drake and me. His cock was thick and short, and surrounded by thick, dark curls, with a round, caramel-colored knob. The piss-slit was deep and long, and I just had to have a taste. I knelt on the bed and let Carlo guide his cock between my parted lips. My mouth was filled with warm, hard man-flesh once again.

"Oh, man! This fag's got a nice mouth!" Carlo groaned as I went to work. Like Drake, he curled his fingers in my hair and guided my bobbing tempo along his length. Meanwhile, I felt the mattress move beneath my knees as Drake rolled away. A moment later I felt his hands on my up-raised ass, stroking my flesh. I was beginning to get the picture even before I felt the cool drool of some sort of lubricant splash along my butt-crack. Drake's fingers came next, running up and down my valley a few times before I felt him take aim and jab a long finger into my hole.

"Uuunnggghh!" I grunted into Carlo's crotch as Drake's finger worked high into my rectum. My legs trembled slightly from the sudden pain, but it was nothing compared to what was on the way. I again felt the bed moving and I knew Drake was moving into position. I concentrated on Carlo's cock, but as I felt Drake pull his finger free of my anus, I braced myself for what I knew to be coming.

"Watch your teeth," Carlo told me a second before I felt the spongy knob of Drake's dick press against my hole. I forced my mouth wide, Carlo's cock still on my tongue, as Drake leaned into me. My hole hadn't been prepared very well, although I was well-lubed, and the flash of pain that ripped through me in the moment Drake's knobbed popped through made me howl into Carlo's groin.

"Shit! This bitch is tight!" Drake grunted as he forced inch after inch of his hard dick up my ass. It felt incredible, as painful as it was. I was addicted to cock, up my ass or down my throat by this point in my life, but I could still probably count how many times I'd been fucked on my two hands. My sphincter hadn't yet grown relaxed enough to allow a powerful initial entry yet. My guts twisted to accept his length, jolting me each time he pushed deeper. My own cock had gone limp below my belly as I was sodomized. It took Drake a good three or four thrusts until I finally felt his balls bang against my own. I was vibrating with pain and excitement as Drake held his meat deep in my furnace.

"His ass is so fucking hot and tight," Drake moaned. "Reminds me of the first time I had you, Carlo."

"Nothing like the feel of fresh meat wrapped around your dick, right Amigo?" Carlo laughed. "Or the feel of a new dick up your ass for the first time, right bitch!" Carlo added for me. I moaned around his dick in response, adding a brief nod as I returned to servicing his wonderful cock.

A moment later, the scene fully hit me. I was being spit-roasted, and on Thanksgiving. I'd always wondered what it would be like, to be taken by two studs at the same time. I had a cock up my ass and another working its way down my throat. This was a first for me. I'd seen it done, on video, but had never thought about how to go about enjoying it. Now it was being done to me, and I was loving it. My ass had relaxed and Drake was working me over with deep, steady thrusts that had my guts churning. Carlo's dick was leaking tasty cream along my tongue as he face-fucked me. I was in fag-heaven, to be so crude.

All too soon, Drake eased out of me, and even as I was moaning my anguish, I heard him ask Carlo, "You want to get some of this sweet ass?"

Carlo was quick to pull out of my mouth. "Hell, yeah, man!" As I turned to face Drake and present my ravaged ass for Carlo, Drake handed him the blue bottle of lubricant. I saw Drake's throbbing cock, recently buried up my ass and glistening with lubrication. I wanted it back in my mouth, but I wasn't all that thrilled about tasting my ass. Drake must have thought of that because he produced a hand towel from somewhere and gave his dick a good wipe down, even as Carlo added a fresh layer of lube to my crack.