I Only Wanted to Watch

Brandon had told me that if I wasn't going to move to a new, all-the-way level with him, he was going to a gay bar and would bring someone back to the dorm with him. He said he couldn't take the frustration any longer. I thought he had been joking, that he was as scared about this as I was. But there they were, entering the door from the street and moving toward Brandon's room at the other end of the suite in the middle of the night, having awakened me from a light sleep when Brandon's friend knocked over a lamp and exclaimed a four-letter word.

I had only been dozing, because I had been aroused by Brandon's plan, even though I hadn't really believed he was going to go through with it, and I hadn't been able to keep my hands off my own cock and couldn't go to sleep when I was that hard. I wasn't any less frustrated at the nonmovement in our relationship than Brandon was. If he had been here, we would have just jacked off together, but I just couldn't bring myself to do certain things yet. I was more of a watcher than a doer still.

I thus was quickly out of my bed at the sound of their arrival, and when I'd opened my door a crack and peeked out, I could see that Brandon had brought back a four-letter-word kind of guy. He was decked out in black—black leather vest over a tight black muscle shirt and black jeans, shredded at the knees and also tight on well-muscled legs. He had a square-jawed face, covered in a couple of day's growth of black stubble. His hair was long and tied off in a ponytail, and I wouldn't have doubted a claim that he was a gang banger straight off his motorcycle.

Brandon's friend had almost fallen when he'd run into the lamp, and when Brandon instinctively put out his arms to keep his friend from going down, the friend came up hugging Brandon tight. He was kissing Brandon on the lips and arching him over backward in a possessive stance.

When he broke away from this, I could hear Brandon whisper that they needed to wait until they got in his room, because he didn't want to wake any of his suite mates. And then they were out of my sight and down the hall toward where Brandon's room was.

My dick went hard and I thought I was going to hyperventilate. Brandon had done it. He had said he was so horny for a guy that he was going to go out and pick one up, and he'd done it. I'd thought that was all talk.

I scurried down the hall as quietly as I could and came up real close to Brandon's door. He hadn't gotten the door shut tight, and I pushed it open a smidgen, giving me a full view of the bed in the glaring light of the overhead bulb.

They were both sitting on the opposite side of the bed from me, next to and close to each other. Their shirts were already off, and Brandon's friend had Brandon's smooth, cut torso arched back, with one arm wrapped under Brandon's shoulder blades. The guy's lips were already on Brandon's nipples, and I could tell from the angle of the guy's other arm that he had a hand on Brandon's basket. The expression on Brandon's face told me a lot. I could see apprehension and a little fear, but an overwhelming helping of desire and excitement that were overpowering the other two emotions.

Brandon's friend came up for air from nibbling at Brandon's nipples and loosened the hold of the arm around Brandon's back, permitting Brandon to slowly lower himself on the bed. The friend's torso was turned toward me now, and I could see it clearly. Where Brandon was the blond, smooth-bodied college jock, his visitor was a dark, hirsute gypsy—lithe and sinewy, with a hairy chest and arms, and a look of danger about him. This impression was only enhanced by the two silver rings in his nipples, the stud in one ear, and the crown-of-thorns tattoos around both bulging biceps. Even the expression on his face contrasted perfectly with Brandon's hesitancy and indecision at this point. Full confidence; full control. He conveyed that he knew exactly what he wanted and that he was going to get it.

He placed his thumbs under Brandon's pecs and his fingers around his sides and pushed the blond's body up until it was fully on the bed. And then he came down, full length, on top of Brandon, pecs to pecs, belly to belly, and basket to basket. They were only in their jeans now. They had removed both their shoes and their socks. They kissed deeply, and then the gypsy put his arms on Brandon's upper arms, pinning him to the bed, and raised his chest up, putting the weight of his body on his hips and pelvis. He proceeded to grind his basket into Brandon's while he possessed Brandon's eyes with his own, focusing Brandon on what was happening, forcing Brandon to acknowledge what was going to happen, no matter what simpler, less dangerous ideas Brandon might have had when he brought the man back to the dorm with him. The gypsy reached around and undid his ponytail, and long, silky black hair cascaded down to his shoulders.

Uncertainty and a bit of fear were fighting the lust in Brandon's eyes—and slowly losing the battle. The gypsy had his knees between Brandon's legs, and Brandon slowly opened his stance and then, in resignation, brought his legs around and placed the backs of his calves over those of his new-found friend. The gypsy raised up on his knees then and unbuckled Brandon's jeans, pulled the zipper down, fanned out the two sides of the material, pushed the band on his briefs down to below his balls, and brought out Brandon's rod. Brandon had a very nice dick, rather thin, but of good length. I had admired it often when we were showering. I instinctively pushed my sleeping shorts down to below my own respectable cock, and lightly fingered what had already hardened nicely.

Then I almost audibly gasped when the gypsy proceeded to undo his own belt buckle, unzip himself, and fan out the waist of his jeans. He hadn't been wearing anything under the jeans, and his cock was mammoth—both long and thick, truly horse hung. The bulb of his dick was a dark red and bulbous, and a silver ring piercing it caught the light of the overhead fixture. I could feel my own cock beginning to form precum.

The gypsy came down onto Brandon again and mashed his pelvis into Brandon's, introducing the cocks to each other. Brandon's hands had gone to the slats of the headboard above him, and I could see the whiteness of his knuckles as he held onto the iron rods. The muscles of his arms were bulging under the strain, as the gypsy ground his hot cock into Brandon's pubes. The gypsy was holding Brandon firmly by the wrists with his hands, and he had his lips and teeth buried in the hollow of Brandon's neck. Brandon's back was slightly arched back, and his head was arched back at even a greater angle. His eyes were wildly searching the ceiling, as if he was on the brink of trying to bolt from the room.

But there was no bolting. The gypsy was firmly in control, both physically and psychologically. He was the older of the two by a good ten years, but there appeared to be limitless strength in his body, and he had the manner of a man who knew exactly how to get what he wanted. Brandon was a soft, spoiled college student in comparison, no matter how well built he was. He was probably thinking now that this obsessive lark of his hadn't been such a great idea, but the two were well beyond just calling it a night and going their separate ways.

The gypsy was so fast in stripping them both of the rest of their clothes, that I hardly noticed it had been done. My attention was arrested by that blunderbuss of a cock swinging between the gypsy's legs as he rose up over Brandon. I'd certainly never seen anything this formidable in the dorm shower room. The first I noticed, he was up with his knees on either side of Brandon's pecs, and, while still holding Brandon's wrists at the headboard slats, he was forcing his cock between Brandon's lips and pumping his face slowly. I was getting all of this in a side view, and I couldn't help but start stroking my own cock as the gypsy's eight or nine inches started working their way down Brandon's throat.

Brandon's knuckles were even whiter than before from the pressure on the iron rods of his headboard, and I saw his knees come up and his heels dig into the bedspread under the strain. The muscles of his calves and thighs were popping out, and I could hear him moaning and groaning and gagging under the assault. I tried to see his eyes, but he had them shut tight.

I could almost hear the audible sigh of relief from across the room, as the gypsy pulled out of Brandon's mouth and turned him around until he was laying across the width of the bed on his back, with his butt cheeks at the edge of the bed.

The gypsy was giving Brandon head now. Although I was watching from the angle of the top of Brandon's head, I was standing at the door and looking slightly down on the tableau on the bed, so I could look down Brandon's trembling torso and see the gypsy's head bobbing above his pelvis. The gypsy was running one hand up to Brandon's nipples and then down fanning out over his flat, pulsating belly. And the other hand was between Brandon's thighs somewhere, probably doing something lustful with Brandon's balls.

Brandon had his head arched back between his arms, which were bent at the elbows close to each side of his head, with his hands bunching up the bedspread above and to the sides of his head. I could tell by the rhythmic bunching of Brandon's fists in the bedspread and the bouncing of his hips that the gypsy was stroking him deeply and fully with his mouth. He was probably an expert at this. I found myself matching the rhythm with the stroking of my own cock, and I was beginning to begrudge Brandon his adventure. He had such a look of pleasure and abandon in his eyes that I envied him that. We had talked about the pleasure of getting good head, and even had done some fumbling experimentation with each other, but I could tell from the expression on Brandon's face that we had never even come close to the real thing.

I realized then that Brandon could see me. His eyes were piercing mine. I could almost tell that he was trying to convey that this could be us—that it might very well be us on another night, if I could suspend my inhibitions as he now had. My cock gave a lurch, and I moved my free hand up and glided up my taut stomach and pecs and squeezed my nipples. I returned his look of expectation and desire as best I could, sealing the unspoken agreement. He seemed almost to be telling me that this whole episode had been constructed to bring me out fully, to make me acknowledge that I wanted him and was willing to go the distance. I lifted my cock and pointed it at him, and he gave me a kissing gesture with his mouth. The agreement was ratified.

I now could see Brandon's cock bouncing on his belly. The gypsy had moved on—and down—with his lips. Brandon sighed and then moaned and then gave little yipping sounds and beat his fists against the bed in ecstasy as the gypsy expertly worked his asshole with his lips and tongue. Brandon raised his legs and then pulled them down onto his chest with his hands under his knees, giving the gypsy the deepest, widest possible access to his ass. All the time, Brandon was holding my eyes in his, conveying the deepest sense of pleasure and desire that he could across the room to me.

With a little cry, Brandon unfolded his legs wide, dug his heels into the edge of the bed. He then wrapped both of his hands around his long, engorged cock and stroked himself to ejaculation. I found that I had been stroking myself along with him, and we shot off together. I had cried out myself upon release, but the gypsy showed no sign of having heard me.

This might have been because he was changing position now. I saw the look of elation on Brandon's face at the prodigious release of his cum up his belly change almost instantly to surprise, pain, and fear upon the realization that his new-found master had come up and had his bludgeon at Brandon's back door. There was little warning and no mercy as the gypsy pushed his humongous cock into Brandon's ass. Brandon first arched back, his heels scrabbling for purchase at the edge of the bed, and showed me a face of deeply wounded pain, his mouth open in a big "O" that somehow couldn't muster a sound, and his eyes rolling back into his head so that about all I could see were the whites. He was clawing at the air with his hands at first. Then he raised his shoulders, and reached for the gypsy, trying to put an end to the relentless plowing up his ass canal. But the gypsy just laughed and pushed Brandon down onto his back on the bed with strong hand in the sternum.

Brandon's hips were briefly rolled up and the gypsy came up onto the edge of the bed with his knees, and I now could see the impossible thickness of his cock buried under Brandon's balls. He was fucking down into Brandon now, with a good four inches of dark cock root still showing against the paleness of Brandon's thighs. I held my breath and pulled at my own, reawakening cock, as I watched those last four, thick inches bury themselves in my classmate. Then the gypsy emitted an evil laugh. The cock came out almost the whole way, and, as Brandon cried out, it slowly started to disappear inside him once more.

The gypsy came back off the bed and onto his feet between Brandon's legs, and the horse-hung cock continued its second, less hampered journey to the center of Brandon, during which Brandon writhed under the gypsy's hand and gulped and gasped for air. Then I could see from my vantage point black silky pubic hair meeting and mingling with the blond down on Brandon's balls again, and the world held still. Brandon's gulping turned to panting and then to just quiet moaning, as his body slowly decreased its trembling and twitching and he accommodated himself to having been so thickly and deeply skewered.

After a short while, the gypsy removed his hand from Brandon's chest and took Brandon's legs in his hands at the ankles and spread-eagled them up and out. I saw the gypsy's hips go into a slight in and out stroking motion. He looked down into Brandon's face and gave him a big, appreciative smile. I couldn't see that Brandon was smiling back, but I could see that the tension had gone out of his body, and his own hips were moving slightly now, in rhythm with the man who was fucking him, the stranger who he had brought back to the dorm, the mysterious gypsy who now had eight or nine inches of pulsating cock up Brandon's undulating ass canal.

I could feel the strain going out of my body now too. I had seen the unknown and it could be conquered. If Brandon could adjust to eight or nine thick, horse-hung inches, I surely could manage Brandon, and he me. Brandon had arched his head back and he was watching me again, his eyes glued to my face, telling me that it was all right; that the pain had been worth the pleasure.

And then his eyes took on a look of pure ecstasy, as the gypsy started pumping him fast and deep. He was rotating his hips as he pumped and his undulating torso was glistening with sweat in the overhead light. I found his hairiness, with the silver nipple rings and bicep tattoos mesmerizing in their exotic dance of lust. His head was moving, and his hair was flipping around in the air. Brandon's hips were meeting his gyrations, and the younger man's legs were now propped on the older man's shoulders and their arms were entwined with the firm grips of their fingers on each other's elbows. They were one now, one pulsating, pumping, fucking machine. One part blond, smooth and all-American; one part dark, hairy, and mysterious—but both united as one, at the pelvis, exchanging pleasure, moans, sighs, and body fluids.

I thought the dance had gone on longer than it actually had. They had stopped before I noticed it, with no sign of the gypsy's release. And they were both looking up, at the door, at me, suspended in time. Waiting for me to realize that there were three of us in this, not just two. Brandon wasn't the only one who had seen me in the shadows just beyond the door.

I have no idea when the gypsy had realized that I was there. But it had been long enough for him to decide what he wanted to do about that.

Through the fog of discovery, I heard him mutter, "Next." And before I knew what was happening, he had me over at the bed, bent over, my legs spread wide, and that big juicy cock of his was probing beyond my protesting sphincter and then, with a bursting of the dam inside me, being pulled in by my undulating ass muscles and making its journey up my ass canal from behind. He had his fingers digging into my nipples, and his cold, nipple rings were sliding around on my shoulder blades. I was writhing and struggling, my fists buried in the bedspread and mounding that up just as I had seen Brandon do under the same circumstances. I had my mouth open to scream, but as with Brandon, my lungs were in shock and I couldn't form the sounds.

Brandon came to my rescue then. He had his knees under me, at my belly. He helped me stretch my arms around him and cup his butt cheeks in my hands for leverage and for some place to put them, and he was gently pushing his rehardened dick between my lips, giving me something pleasant to concentrate on while the gypsy stretched and plowed me deeply from behind, giving me that education I could use for the rest of the semester with Brandon.

The two of them found each other above me with their lips, and I heard Brandon whisper a thank you to the masterful stranger. It occurred to me then that this had all been Brandon's plan, all of it, from the start.