Flat To Let 1

Nick came out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist. He would have turned to go into his bedroom—in fact, he should have done that—if he hadn't seen that he'd missed with the toss of the used condom toward the wastebasket in Brandon's room. And there was the spilt condom packet on the floor next to the bed too. Brandon was laid out on his stomach on his bed, his right arm dangling off the side of the bed and his face turned to the door, a spent look on his face that managed a satisfied little smile at the same time.

Nick had fucked him good. Nick was built and gave very good fuck. He'd been a little rougher than usual this time, maybe. But Nick had been a little pissed that Brandon had wheedled for the afternoon fuck during midterms when they both had papers due, and Nick was a bit jazzed, on edge, because of the college pressure this week.

The fuck wouldn't have happened at all except that Nick had been passing the open door to the apartment's one bathroom and had been arrested by the view of Brandon shaving off the hair in his pits with an electric razor and then moving to taking all of his pubic hair off, not just trimming it down.

"What the fuck are you doing that for? You got lice?" Nick asked in a gruff voice.

Brandon laughed. "No, I've heard a rumor that Ashcroft is kinky that way. He wants his sex partners body shaved. I need an 'A' in his class."

Terence Ashcroft was a history professor at the college, and Brandon was taking a class from him and also was trying to land him as a faculty adviser. History was Brandon's major. Terrence Ashcroft also was a hunk for his age.

"That seems a bit extreme," Nick said.

"Maybe, but you wouldn't believe how sensuous it feels to shave yourself all over. Look. It's got me hard. And, more important, look, it's got you hard watching me do it."

Nick couldn't deny that. Brandon had been working on him, working on getting him into bed, all afternoon, but Nick, pressed for time and attention, had resisted. And now he was hard. He could either take the time to take care of that himself, or he could . . .

"I wonder if it would be even more arousing if you had another guy to shave you," he said.

"I think I've gotten harder just thinking about that," Brandon answered.

Nick entered the bathroom and, larger bodied and more powerful than Brandon was, he took over the rest of Brandon's shaving, while Brandon gasped and moaned for him. He then took the newly shaved young man up in his arms, Brandon wrapping his legs around Nick's waist, his hard cock pressed into Nick's belly, carried him back to Brandon's room and bed, laid him out on the bed, got his cock inside him, and laid him good.

Nick was irritated, though. This wasn't how he needed to spend his afternoon. It hadn't helped that Brandon had thoroughly enjoyed the missionary fuck and then had said he was too tired afterward to give Nick some attention too. Nick was a flip-flop kind of guy and Brandon had been avoiding doing his part since Nick had moved into the off-campus-dorm two-bedroom, one bath, apartment where Brandon had a room to let. Brandon said he was into flip-flop when he'd let the room to Nick, but he hadn't carried through yet.

Nick wasn't any neater than any other male lacrosse scholarship premed college sophomore, but he'd thought that if he made a point to tidy up from the fuck they'd just had, it would show Brandon how ticked he was. It didn't work. He'd picked up the condom and dunked it in the trashcan this time, but he made the mistake of sitting down on the side of the bed to reach down for the condom packet.

Brandon wasn't as exhausted as he had been letting on. As soon as Nick sat down beside him, Brandon was up, plastering himself to Nick's back, and had brought an arm around him, undone the towel, brushed it aside, and, after running his fingers through the blond curls of Nick's pubic bush, fisted Nick's cock. His other hand was making little swirls in the tuffs of blond hair covering Nick's pecs. As pissed as Nick was, he couldn't resist and hand job and leaned back into Brandon and let his roommate stroke his cock. Nick was young, virile, and fit. The best term for that was "ever ready to go again." He laid back and moaned as Brandon slow-jacked him.

"We could have shaved your pubes off while you fucked me," Brandon whispered in Nick's ear. "I understand that's how Ashcroft does it."

Nick was irritated and had no intention of resuming giving sex, but he hadn't communicated this to his cock. He went right into another hard erection. He'd been eating his Wheaties regularly, and he was a very much in-shape nineteen-year-old athlete.

Coming out of a sloppy kiss on Nick's throat, while Brandon stroked his roommate's cock, Brandon whispered, "Do me again. We need to let loose of some more tension so we can study all night for tomorrow's exams."

Nick had quickly figured Brandon out. He'd want Nick fucking him all night. Brandon was a natural at the books, and he had his history professor wrapped around his finger—or probably panting after his ass, Nick thought. Brandon, in fact, had a very nice ass and took cock really well. He certainly was winning this battle—although not without a fight.

"Knock it off, Brandon," Nick growled. "You may not have to study for your history exam, but I sure as hell have to study for my biology midterm. And I have a paper to write for rocks." Rocks was the college jocks' term for geology, one of the sports program's "gimme" courses.

"That's what I want, lover. I want you to knock me up—breed me. Get your rocks off with me again. Give me your baby. Fuck a baby into me."

That was another thing Nick didn't like about Brandon. When he was hot for it from another guy, he reverted into acting like he was a girl—a girl who wanted to be knocked up. He had a definite feminine side. He even had long blond hair that he usually wore in a ponytail, but, in sex, would let down and would make sounds and words like he was a woman being raped and impregnated. Nick knew Brandon wasn't above wearing a slip, panties, and stockings with a guy. His hair was down now, and Nick liked running his fingers through Brandon's hair when it was down. Acting the girl might work with some guys, but not with Nick. He was all man, and, although he liked to flip-flop, he wanted the other guy to be all man too.

The downside was that Brandon was a horny all man, and his cock had interests in sex that superseded what Nick mentally was aroused by. Brandon got Nick, naked, onto his back on Brandon's bed. Brandon was on top of his roommate, kissing down his body and then sucking on his cock. Nick's cock wanted to have sex again. Brandon's hand felt its way to the nightstand, opened the drawer, managed to extract a condom packet and slit it, and then it was all over except the ejaculation.

A condom got rolled on Nick's cock, Brandon saddled himself on Nick's pelvis, positioned the cock with his hand, descended on the shaft, and started to rise and fall on the cock. After a few moments, Nick gave in and took over. He grasped Brandon's waist between his hands and started providing the power that had Brandon's loose, blond hair swirling around his head, Brandon moaning and groaning happily, and Nick slamming his roommate's ass up and down on his shaft. Brandon's hands were working his own pecs and his willowy body was arched back. With his hair down, the image was of a young blonde baby riding Nick's shaft.

"Oh, baby. Do it. Give me your load. Fuckin' breed me. Yes! Shoot that load! Give a girl a baby. Slam a kid up in there."

Brandon collapsed again off to the side when he'd released his load up Nick's belly and Nick soon thereafter had dumped his in the bulb of the condom.

The blond student, once more lying on his stomach on the bed, right arm dangling off to the side, and his tongue hanging out, was clearly too exhausted to return the favor. In disgust, Nick rolled off the bed, muttered something about yet another shower, a lost half hour of study time, and maybe time to go room hunting again. The threat of finding other living accommodations was coming more frequently now, but Brandon just ignored it. Nick had a bit of satisfaction upon leaving Brandon's room with his towel clutched in his hand, though. This time the condom went right into the trashcan when he tossed it in that direction. Nick laughed.

"Yeah, baby," he said, as he walked out of Brandon's room.

"Glad it was good for you, too, sweetheart," Brandon called out in a weary voice.

"Whatever," Nick answered, flipping him the bird over his head, but not turning on his way out.

* * * *

Brandon dragged Nick to a party the next Sunday afternoon to celebrate having survived the midterm exams—or having the pleasure to assume he had before the grades were posted—and for managing to get his geology paper in on time. It wasn't the sort of party Nick wanted to go to, but it was the only offer he'd had for Sunday afternoon. There would be food and drink. It would be food and drink he didn't have to pay for. He was working his butt off to get through college at as little food and drink expense to himself as he could manage.

It was to be rather a highbrow gathering, Brandon admitted, but he wanted to keep in good with his history professor, Terence Ashcroft, whose house was the venue for the "wine, not beer" gathering. Brandon couldn't turn down an invitation from someone who had been sniffing around him all semester and who controlled the grades for that course. He'd even shaved himself from below the eyebrows to his feet in case he had a chance to enhance his standing with—or lying down for—the professor. Ashcroft had told Brandon he could bring someone, but he had made a point of saying that that someone should be very attractive—and young and male. To Brandon, that meant inviting Nick.

As it turned out, it meant that for Ashcroft as well.

He met them at the door of a large, apparently two-story house, but not exactly, brick house in a lush garden on a large lot not far from the campus. The street was lined with trees that met overhead and meandered around a bit so that it didn't exude the feeling of being a suburban environment. The question of how many stories it was occurred because the entry was half way between two floors, and the lower floor, on the front, was sunk to the lower sill of the windows. The lot sloped down from the front yard, so the lower floor was a walk-out one on the back. It was what one called a split foyer when such designs were popular in the 1960s.

Ashcroft was standing inside the open front door, on the foyer landing, greeting arrivals—and there were some sixty people who showed up for the party and fanned out in the living areas of the upper story and out onto the extensive terracing at the back of the house.

"Hello there, Brandon. Glad you could make it," the professor said, as he shook Brandon's hand. "And this must be Nick, who you've told me about," he said warmly as he took Nick's hand.

Nick got a double shock. First, he was surprised not only that Brandon would have told his history professor anything about him, but also that Ashcroft would remember Nick's name—and give him such a warm smile. What shocked Nick the most, though, was the double signaling the man was giving Nick in his prolonged handshake. First, in what most would think was an awkward miss of connection, which wasn't, Ashcroft sheathed Nick's thumb in his enclosing fingers. In Nick's world this was a declaration of being a seeking submissive. After what appeared to be a stumble, though, Ashcroft folded his thumb under and against Nick's palm when they shook in an apparent normal position, and he rubbed the thumb against Nick's palm. To Nick, this meant he gave cock too. So, if he was following the standard signs of Nick's set, Ashcroft was advertising himself as a flip-flopper and was doing it to Nick, who had been expressing disappointment with Brandon for not giving as well as receiving.

So, was this what Brandon had been telling Ashcroft—that Nick had been bugging him to flip-flop—and was the history professor boldly offering himself as a remedy for the situation?

Nick took a closer look at Terence Ashcroft. He was British, Nick knew from what Brandon had told him. But he wasn't what Nick had expected otherwise. He was tall and well-built and exuded a manly air. He wasn't at all effeminate, which Nick associated with British academics, especially ones he'd heard were gay. He wasn't in his fifties or sixties, either. He was maybe in his late forties. There was a little graying in the hair, but this was noticeably only because of how dark his hair was. The darkness also reflected how hirsute he was, with heavily matted forearms and hair curling out of the neckline of his sports shirt. He was bearded and had a mustache, but both were closely trimmed. They weren't as close-cut as Nick's own blond, purposely five-o'clock shadow chin cut, though. Nick wasn't short, but the professor was a good four inches taller than he was. He exuded vitality and strength. Nick also was mesmerized by the man's patrician British accent.

Everything about the man was "all go" as far as Nick was concerned upon first meeting. He didn't have time to say anything or send any signal back, because there were other guests at the door behind him, and Ashcroft smoothly turned his smile and attention to them. Nick got the impression, though, that he didn't need to signal back to Ashcroft—that the professor was so sure of himself that there was no question that Nick would hook up with him, if that was what Ashcroft wanted. There was something in the way that Ashcroft smiled at him that told Nick Ashcroft understood perfectly what the gay handshake maneuvers meant.

One thing was sure: Ashcroft knew who he was and was confident that Nick would be there that day. The man also seemed to be sure that he could and would bed the college sophomore. That was, of course, three things, not one, but Nick was off balance and not able to maintain count. He drifted around the crowded room and out onto the back balcony and then down to the terrace, having quickly become separated from Brandon, and also quickly realized that he was definitely outclassed at this party. Although he saw many faces he recognized, they were not on people in his social league. Constantly in his thoughts was meeting up with Ashcroft again at the party, but that didn't happen for some time.

To the left up the half-story of stairs from the entrance foyer was a large living room. Straight ahead from the top of the stairs was the dining room with a food-laden table. Nick spent considerable time drifting in and out of this room, grazing off the table. To the left of the dining room was a large kitchen that opened in front into the living room and on back to a large sun room. The terrace and rear-sloping, wooded backyard stretched out, below an outside balcony, beyond the sun room, which was on the second floor on the back of the house. Nick was only to find out later that three bedrooms and two baths, one en suite with the master bedroom, flowed off to the right from the public rooms. He wondered what was below this level, but no one seemed to be going downstairs, so he didn't do so for a while either.

One thing that most of the guests—and there was a full crowd of them—seemed to have largely in common was that many of them were gay. The gays were a large contingency at the college, large enough not to get flak from the others, and they were out in full force at the party. Not everyone was gay here, Nick thought, but more than he originally thought probably were. This apparently was a party where the gays could comfortably congregate. It also was a party where they safely could let loose. Nick saw a whole lot of touching. In fact, a lot of the guests were intimately touching him, as they thought they could call it an accident if they were challenged, in recognition of shared interests and the freedom here to express it. Nick was new "meat" for the gays of the higher class and they were eager to check him out and categorize where he fit in their interests. He was quite handsome enough to raise more than just their interest.

It wasn't long before Nick found you could get a little high on wine as well as beer. It wasn't long after that before he found that the bedrooms were being put to use as were the wooded corners of the backyard. And it wasn't all that long before Nick used one of the bedrooms himself. The college faculty and favored—and most attractive—students provided a large contingency of those at the party, but rich alumni and the college-associated academic press where Ashcroft had a book nearly ready to launch were represented, as were those in the arts locally. To balance, some real hunks had been invited from the college sports teams—young men who, even if primarily straight, knew where their scholarships and grades came from. There were even a couple of black bull football and basketball team players, like Destin and Cal, who were there, standing a head taller than any of the rest and making more than their share of trips to the bedroom wing. Nick, of course, was one of this group. He was a star lacrosse player on the college team.

An hour into the party, Nick was trapped in a corner of the living room by two of the publishing house contingent, Zach, Ashcroft's acquisitions editor, and Tyler, the publishing house's managing editor. It boggled Nick's mind that the acquisitions editor was actually higher in the house's hierarchy than the managing editor was, but Tyler was the cuter and sexier of the two and the more persistent in the hunt.

Nick and Tyler had run across each other in a gay bar downtown a couple of times already, so this wasn't a first encountered. They'd done a little flirting and touching before and Nick had always intended to pursue that, but on earlier occasions he'd wound up leaving with someone else. Tyler was letting him know now that Tyler had always intended a hookup as well. There was flirting and touching and a bit of groping all around between Tyler, Zach, and Nick before one of Zach's friends pulled him away.

Then it was just the two of them, Tyler and Nick, and their time obviously had arrived. Tyler lured Nick into one of the bedrooms simply by combining palming Nick's package and saying, "You can lay me out right here on the coffee table in front of all these people and fuck me if you want, but do you know the bedrooms are free game at one of Terry's parties? They're just off that hallway over there. There's a sign on the doors you can flip to claim occupancy. Terry's very accommodating."

In transit, they passed the door to the master bedroom, where the black bull football player, Cal, was between the legs of a major college donor and a cougar twice Cal's age named Megan and giving her good fuck. Nick saw a hefty donation to the college sports fund in the next week or two. In one of the smaller bedrooms, Tyler gave Nick a blowjob and Nick gave Tyler a standing fuck, both of them trouserless but otherwise dressed, up against the wall next to the door.

The party was in full cry.

* * * *

"Are you finding the others at the party welcoming, Nick?"

I found that the guy from the college press welcomed my cock quite well, thank you, Nick thought, as he turned to find that he had connected with the party's host, Terence Ashcroft, at last. Of course he'd recognized the smooth, cool accent right off. "Yes, thanks. It's a great party, Professor Ashcroft."

"Call me Terrence, Nick. And I'll call you frequently, if you'll let me."

Nick blushed. "I don't know if I've ever seen so many intellectuals in a private home in my life," he said, feeling rushed a bit in going where Ashcroft is so quickly headed. "It makes me feel like an ignorant bumpkin."

"I'm not sure the home is private enough at this moment. But, no, there aren't usually so many queer people on the make to be seen in one place in a quiet college community like this. I'll grant you that. But a man as built and sexy as you are has no need for showy intellect."