"Mike?"
The voice was unmistakable. It was fairly deep, masculine and although he tried to make it sound like he was surprised to see me; we both knew we wouldn't miss our five-year college reunion. Especially knowing that each other would be there.
"Hey. Stan. How's my favorite college roommate?" I said.
"Mike, I don't know how to take that seeing as how I was your only college roommate." He grinned while reaching out his hand for a firm handshake. I finished drying my hands and took his hand, then leaned in for one of those manly hugs even if it was kind of odd greeting another guy in a hotel bathroom.
As we briefly, and maybe a little awkwardly, embraced; Stan patted me on the back and chuckled that nervous little laugh that only I would recognize.
They say smells incite the most intense memories. If that is true then it was his cologne that drifted through my nostrils and rekindled the emotions that still smoldered from our years in college.
Stan and I had been roommates for sure. We had been no different than any other college jocks and were physical education majors. But the last year of college we had somehow discovered the joys of...oh, some would call it college explorations of sexual identity but it was pure, unadulterated mansex. Although I figured after five years one of us would either be fat, married or uninterested in mansex now.
I think it had started as some kind of dare, but before we knew it, we fucked each other throughout our last year of college. Oh, we still dated girls and never admitted we were attracted to each other, let alone were fucking each other. I guess you could say we were in the closet and it was our little secret.
Nevertheless, that had been some of the most intense sex of my life. I hate to admit it, but I had never experienced anything with a woman as sensual and erotic as sex with Stan that year.
"I expected to see you later when everyone arrives." Stan said.
"Well, they said my room wasn't ready yet, so I just popped in to freshen up a bit."
"Me too. How 'bout some coffee while we wait?"
It seemed we had both showed up a little too early and catching up would be great. Even though our rooms were probably ready by the time we freshened up, Stan and I spent the next couple of hours filling each other in on the past few years in which we hadn't spoken very much. I guess the miles apart and busy careers had taken its toil on our friendship. I hoped it was the distance and busy schedules and not the fact that the last year together was so intense it had burned up whatever sexual fuel we had for each other.
He had a short marriage that was so short it ended in an annulment. As for me, I had a few girlfriends off and on but my work kept me on the road too much to settle down very long.
During those years I had certainly thought about Stan on occasion, but quickly drowned the thought in whatever pussy I could find. I had written off the year Stan and I were fucking as foolish college experimentation, I guess. So maybe that was it. We were just too scared to call each other for fear of what might be next.
But now that I was here with him some familiar feelings rushed through my veins. He taught Physical Education at a community college and certainly kept in shape. His biceps seemed to bulge through his shirt even more than I remembered and matched the ripples in his chest and abdomen that etched into a tight shirt tucked into his narrow waist. I could imagine that his ass was still as firm as ever.
My job required me to stay in shape as a representative for the maker of physical fitness equipment. So my fears that one of us would now be fat or married were unfounded. But I still wondered if Mike held the same ember of lust for mansex that still smoldered within me, because during our two-hour conversation there was no hint of that last year in college.
Realizing our classmates would be arriving soon; Stan and I retired to our separate rooms and agreed to meet at the reunion.
It would be a weekend event as there was a homecoming football game the next day, so I settled in to the room, showered and dressed for the first reunion event down in the ballroom.
When I arrived I could see Stan already chatting with former classmates. It took about an hour before we finally met at the bar to continue catching up, which started out by comparing what we had learned about our classmates; who worked where, who was married to whom, that sort of thing.
Then there was silence. Oh, the music played in the background, folks chatted nearby, but we both realized we had discussed pretty much everything two old roommates could catch up on. I guess we both knew we were avoiding the topic we both wondered about most.
Stan sipped his drink and looked around. He then took a deep breath. "So, Mike...how's it hanging these days?"
Finally. I now could relax and didn't have to wonder anymore, although I could tell Stan was still terrified, probably wondering how I would answer that seemingly innocuous question.
Since we both were college athletes, there was no way we could ever risk anyone knowing that we were fucking each other. It was something that just wasn't allowed in the locker room. So Stan and I had a code. If we were thinking about sex with each other, then we'd just ask, "how's it hanging?" Guys said stuff like that all the time. But with Stan and I, the phrase had a deeper meaning.
If one of us had a date with a girl or something and couldn't fuck right then, we'd just respond that it was hanging left today and then explain why. But if we were ready for some hot mansex then we'd respond that it was hanging right and just ask where, which was usually in our dorm room.
Stan looked around the room again. I imagined he half expected me to tell him it was hanging left then give him some excuse. He wouldn't have asked if he didn't still feel the same way that I felt. The code gave him an easy way to ask though. I wish I had thought of it. Apparently, the embers burned within him as well. At least, I hoped.
"How's yours been hanging, Stan?" I asked.
"I asked you first." He said.
"I mean have you been, you know, hanging with anyone else since college?" I guess I just had to know. I have no idea why. Afterall, that could be a reason for our distance these past few years.
"Nope. You?"
"Just that last year in college. Me and you. I take it neither of us has taken the plunge since then?" I said.
"Appears that way. So, how is it hanging?"
I smiled. Sipped my drink. I too then looked around. "Well, I'm glad you asked Stan. It's been hanging right for a long time now. I guess just waiting on you. Where do you think?"
Stan set his drink down then tilted his head for me to follow. We nodded and shook a few hands as we left. We said nothing. Not even in the elevator, which stopped on Stan's floor. I looked over and saw a bulge already building in Stan's pants. It matched my own.
I followed Stan to his room. He unlocked it and I went in first and heard him lock the door behind us. Before I could turn around I felt his arms slip around my waist from behind. His breath tickled my neck, which I tilted to the side to receive the kiss he placed there then pulled me close to his body.
The bulge in his pants that I had glimpsed on the elevator pushed into the backside of my own trousers. I reached one hand behind me and grasped his hip to pull him closer into my buttocks as he continued to plant another kiss on my neck.
He lowered his hand to my own bulge. It felt good having his strong hand cup my manhood again. I melted into him.
He started to grind his crotch into me. I pressed my ass briefly against him then turned to face him just inches from his blonde hair, blue eyes, his full lips, chiseled face and square jaw. It was the same as in college. I never looked at a man in the way I saw Stan.
We searched each other's eyes. His strong hands wrapped further around my waist. One hand rested on the small of my back, the other on the cheek of my ass. I draped my arms over his shoulders, touched his face then ran my fingers through his hair. We breathed each other's breath.
The distance soon began to close between our lips. Our breath mingled and then it happened all over again. Our lips met and it was as if time had stood still for five years and we were in our college dorm again.
The kiss transcended time. No longer boys, but two muscular men who longed for that feeling again that we both knew so well; the feeling that bonded us.
Although we were more mature now, in many ways we were virgins all over again. In college, I could have described how we slowly peeled each layer of clothing off the other and caressed the curvature of our muscles. We would light candles and bask in the flickering shadows cast by the flame as we admired each others toned body which revealed itself one piece of clothing at a time.
But now in our desire to explore each other all over again our clothes seemed to disappear and I don't remember how.
One moment our lips were pressed against the other, our tongues searching for its mate then twirling around and round in a forbidden dance of lust. Then the next moment we were frantically striping off our clothes in between kisses.
When our lips parted to catch our breath I realized we had torn the clothes from each other and they were scattered about on the floor in disarray. We couldn't have been in that hotel room for more than a couple of minutes. But we were naked.
I rested my hands on his shoulders as we breathed deeply. My eyes danced over his body. I had forgotten how beautiful his nakedness was to my senses. His pectorals rose like mountains from his chest then narrowed toward rippling muscles that formed a washboard over his abdomen.
His thighs were toned. His ass was as tight and firm as I had remembered. But what I desired most was the firm phalanx of his dick, which towered in front of it all.
The female body is something to behold, for sure. Women are soft, sensual and desirable and their movements are clearly erotic. But there was something about the male form that creates a paradox of sorts.
It's firm, yet soft; powerful, yet vulnerable. And two men naked, desiring each other, was something so taboo that it is incredibly exciting. A man yielding his body to another man has its own sense of mystery, wrapped in the forbidden, which creates terribly strong emotions. It's indescribable but wickedly wonderful.
Upon seeing the forbidden phalanx, I slowly sank to my knees as if bowing before it. My hands drifted down his back, past his waist and settled on each cheek of his tight ass as my knees rested on the carpeted floor.
The tip of Stan's dick glistened. I kissed it. It was sweet and sticky. I sucked gently hoping for more. I then touched his shaft with my hand. Although it was hard and stiff, I had forgotten how velvety smooth another man's dick felt.
