Rule #7
Experimentation and exploration are encouraged within reasonable limits, ensuring safety and respect for others, fostering creativity and personal growth.
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For the last few days, whenever I'd been able to catch a moment alone in the dorm -- almost an impossibility with all their stupid fluctuating schedules -- I had tried to beat-off. At first I tried thinking about all the girls I'd wanted to fuck back home. Absolutely no success. Maybe it was because I was surrounded by guys and guys and guys all day long? And the lack of women depressed me?
I really couldn't figure it out.
Even though I'd been trying the opposite, I had now figured more out about my roommates.
They knew my name was Alastair and that I was from Chicago originally; they also knew that I'd flunked out of high school -- to be fair, most of the boys on this campus seemed to have flunked out. That was all I'd let out about myself though; one thing for sure, I was keeping my secrets.
The others? I was pretty sure I knew more about them than they did about me.
There were now nine of us -- the counselors recently having dragged one more set of bunks in, further crowding the space, and then plopping the empty set of beds with two rough looking guys just across from my top bunk. More on these newcomers later.
In his own bunk then, with no person sharing the bed beneath his was 'surfer-boy' Moss Jenkins (yes, what the hell kind of nickname was 'Moss' anyway?). I had expected him to be a rich kid white gangster wanna-be with a beach tan and bleached hair -- mostly he was out of the dorm early before anyone woke and sneaking back into the dorms by the time the rest of us were already sleeping. It took a while to pin him down -- early, when I snuck a peek to watch him get dressed -- I discovered he was a beanpole of a kid. Slender long legs, barely any meat on his stomach and his chest, long willowy arms.
Moss was tan, yes, but just the beginnings of a tan. He was also really tidy and it didn't seem like he was out early/late doing drugs or anything unseemly. Where he went? From the top of my bunk I could periodically see his figure (again, kid was super tall maybe 6'5 or 6'7?) hitting the oceans early morning wake. Other than that, he seemed glued to the media room and all its computers. I guessed he learned better online than from a book.
Next were the twins. Two Hispanic boys with beautiful olive skin and completely different hair styles -- one, Marcos with his sheered military brown hair, and the other, Luca with mid length hair and really straight bangs. Other than those small differences they shared the same 5'8 height, same medium build physique but with insane calf muscles, and wickedly blue eyes. It was hard to tell which one of them was speaking at night sometimes since they were bunked together.
Mostly they spoke English so that everyone could understand -- almost -- what they were talking about in really rapt excited voices. But occasionally, especially when 'lights out' was called for the students -- surprisingly the counselors didn't force a curfew until midnight -- the twins would then whisper in gorgeous strings of Spanish to one another. Of the group, they were the most rambunctious and daring.
Day three of living in the dorms they put a fake spider on Finn -- my bunk mate -- while he was sleeping. His scream and then angry tossing of the plastic arachnid threw the twins into peals of laughter.
They were also loud in classes, loud in the library, loud and chasing each other on the beach or hitting new friends with water balloons outside -- but they were strangely awkward when it came to showering with groups. They often took their shower time around noon while the rest of us were eating and they both looked really uncomfortable when, for instance, they walked in on just me using the communal showers the afternoon after my counseling session. On that day they immediately beelined out of there.
I counted: there were easily 14 more showers they could have used in that locker room.
The very studious bunk with its hung curtains so none of us could see inside, plus its cluttrtrf stand-up desk, belonged to a really small boy, Isaac. At first when I met him I thought for sure he had to be 15 or 16 -- but he was 18 like me and like Finn. He looked way young though.
Maybe it was because he was so shy, or maybe it was because of his nerdy little glasses and the bowl cut that was finally -- thank god for this kid! -- growing out at last. He was really skinny and really pale, wore what looked like a school uniform most of the time, shirt and tie and black jeans or slacks. When they were gossiping once, Finn had said to the twins that he thought Isaac's uniform was probably from an old school he'd attended.
I said nothing; I never joined in on the gossip.
Isaac was usually quiet and when he would talk it was in a very small voice and he'd blush the entire time. His voice was high pitched like he hadn't hit puberty yet and... well yes, I could easily picture him saying 'Daddy' in that nervous/excited voice of his to some buff bear of a man. For some reason Nick's face popped into my head.
Okay... I was ashamed by that. Really, he wasn't too bad a kid, Isaac was just very studious and really awkward most of the time. It always seemed like he might be about to burst into tears. He went out of his way to not accidentally anger anybody. Not that any of us could ever be angry at him.... poor thing.
Finn was a nice guy and had insisted that he and the twins start eating lunch with Isaac so the boy wasn't alone. They'd tried that with me, but every time they sat with their trays I'd just gotten up and left the lunchroom table. Nope, not my thing.
Sharing the bunk above Isaac's was the nature-loving 19-year-old. He was a return student to the program but not 18 like the rest of us. Also, I probably knew the most about his body because... well he never really wore any clothes around the dorm. Sawyer, was a very muscley kid with Russian heritage that he liked to boast about; meaning he was very white and also surprisingly hairy. Not hairy in a bad way, he at least maintained his arm and leg and pit hair. Mostly the hair was just everywhere and very dark, easy to see since he was usually walking around the dorm in his boxers.
When he wasn't in the dorm in his boxers, he was in the dorm butt naked, flaccid cock hanging out. And boy was this kid hung. Like... I'd never seen him hard before, but his flaccid shlong hung at about 5 to 5 1/2 inches.
I wasn't trying to look, but when someone dangled their legs off a bunk and you could see their junk from two rows of beds away... yeah, you did some measuring.
Every morning he got up -- got dressed thankfully, though he was probably sad about the inconvenience -- and popped into basketball shorts and a jersey. Friends would wait for Sawyer outside and they'd discuss animatedly about how many reps they'd do in the gym that morning, or how many laps they could fit into the pool before hitting a study hall.
Sawyer was also very messy, at least with his clothes. His shirts and pants and underwear ended up draped all over the posters of his bed. This happened even though we all had plenty of storage space in the lockers and bottom-bunk drawers.
One time, pretty recently after my counseling session actually, I'd been passing by alone and caught a wiff of one of Sawyer's unattended boxers. Man... I almost swiped those fuckers...
But like... why? Why did that turn me on so much. I felt way too guilty and weird to follow through with the urge. But urges like that stuck with me and lately I could feel them growing.
