When I got to college, I was the only freshman in the senior dorm. I had planned to go to another school but at the last minute I changed my mind. Richards Institute where I had originally planned to go had a wonderful fine arts program, which was my field; but I had been accepted at Rodgers University, and when push came to shove I just couldn't give up the opportunity to go to one of the Big League schools. So by the time I decided to go to Rodgers and applied for a room, the freshman dorms were all filled.
My father and my mother were all excited about Rodgers. It was a real prestige school, and maybe they were partially behind my decision to change my mind. Also my father was really hoping I'd go on to business school and be a businessman like he was. He wasn't very thrilled with the whole fine arts thing.
I had to report to Rodgers on September eighth to get my room assignment and to sign up for the classes I would take. I decided on English, Ancient History, Economics, Government and for my one fun course I picked Renaissance Painting 101.
Then my parents took me over to Bolt Hall where I would be staying. Room 305. My father helped me carry my bags, and as we were climbing the stairs to my room my mother, who complained about everything, began complaining that there was no elevator in the dorm.
I opened the door with the key they had given me, and we entered the room. The first thing I saw was the big tall guy, who was obviously my new roommate, sitting with his back against the pillows on one of the beds with his feet up. He was watching a small television across the room where they seemed to be playing football. He was tall and wiry. His arms, shoulders and legs were almost too muscular, and they were very visible in the tight blue tee shirt which showed his defined chest, and I think they call it his pectoral muscles. (I'm not that up on bones, muscles, nerves. All that anatomical information.) He was wearing a pair of tight blue spandex shorts, which were very short, and outlined another prominent muscle, which I won't go into here. This isn't that kind of a story. This is a college story. My new roommate had a strong face. You know the kind. High cheekbones, (I think those are cheekbones,) sculptured jaw, solid chin. He was really good looking, though it bothers me when someone is better looking than I am. He had thick black hair and a little bit of five o'clock shadow. He was surveying me, and I noticed his eyes were a smoldering medium brown. He was kind of dangerous looking.
"Hi. I'm Pepper Adams," he said, jumping up and extending his right hand.
"Gary Dean," I introduced myself and shook his hand.
"Henry Dean," said my father, taking his hand.
"Vicky," said my mother, smiling at him. "Is this your first day at college too?"
"Hell, no. I'm a senior," he answered. "This is the senior dorm. They told me I was going to have a late admission freshman in here because they had no room in the freshman dorm. "Welcome to Rodgers, Gary," said Pepper.
"Thanks," I said.
"Let me help you unpack, darling," said my mother.
"No that's okay mom, I can do it." Pepper and I gave each other a conspiratorial look. Mothers. Yeah.
My parents invited Pepper to come to dinner with us, but he declined. He was having dinner with his girlfriend, Ingrid. So we drove into town and had a nice meal at the University Spa, which was considered to be the best restaurant in the whole area. After that my parents drove me back to the dorm, and went to their hotel room. We were going to have breakfast together the next morning before they drove home.
Back in the dorm room, I unpacked, put all my clothes into the drawers and closet (my half of the closet and the three bottom drawers) stowed my luggage on the closet shelf, got into my pajamas, and got my toothbrush and toothpaste and went down the hall to the third floor bathroom. The dorm seemed to be deserted. Pepper wasn't around and neither was anybody else. After showering, drying, and brushing my teeth I returned to my empty room and sat back on my own bed. I turned on the lamp next to the bed and continued reading the book I had brought, Vanity Fair.
I was so engrossed in the book that I wasn't noticing the time, and I guess it was about one a.m. when I heard Pepper's key in the door.
"You still up?" he asked.
"I was reading. I got involved."
"Good for you. I never read except for the stuff I have to read for classes. Did you and your folks have a nice dinner?"
"Yeah. It was great. I had broiled brook trout," I answered.
"Oh, you went to the University Spa. That's one of their specialties."
"Yes," I said.
"So do you play any sports?" he asked.
"No," I answered. "I'm not very athletic."
"Yeah. You are kind of a skinny little guy," he observed. "You know what? You could go out for crew. They need skinny little light guys to be the coxswain on the boat."
"I get seasick," I joked.
He wasn't the joking kind, and persisted. "But that's a sport you could be good at."
"I don't really like sports that much," I explained.
"You don't like sports?" he cried in utter amazement. "How can that be? Every guy likes sports. I love sports. Football, baseball, basketball, hockey. Everything. And I'm on the school wrestling team. In fact this whole floor is the wrestling team. They arranged it so that we could all be together."
Now I understood all those muscles. He was trained to pick guys up and throw them all around. "I'll have to go over and watch you wrestle one of these days," I said.
"Sure," he answered. He started getting undressed, and I got to see his Michaelangelo-modeled hard round buns flexing as he walked around the room. It seemed he slept in the raw, not in pajamas like me. His beautifully shaped penis and testicles swayed in front of him, but I was a gentleman and didn't look.
"I'd better get to sleep," he said. "I'm knocked out. My girlfriend Ingrid really exhausted me tonight. She just can't get enough of my dick. She keeps making me go again and again."
"Where do you do it?" I queried.
"Up in her room. Over in the girls' dorms. They allow guys up in the rooms till ten o'clock. Then I hide in the closet until it quiets down, and I sneak out later on."
"Doesn't she have a roommate?" I asked.
"Oh, yeah, sure. But it's okay. Ellen loves to watch me fuck Ingrid. She even plays with herself a little. I offered to fuck her one night, but Ingrid gave me a dirty look and Ellen said 'no thanks', so she just watches."
I was already getting an education, and classes hadn't even started. A few days later they did start, and I began to get into a routine. I met the other guys on the floor and on the wrestling team: Marty, Pete, Jim, John, Willy, Tony, Artie, Phil and Steve. I saw them in the hall and in the showers, and they were all big strapping, heavily muscled guys. But they were all pretty nice to me. They started calling me Stringbean. All except Artie, that is. I could tell he didn't like me. When he would pass me in the hall, he would sneer at me. I didn't know what I had done. I hated being in the shower with him. He would stare at me in this funny way while he was soaping his crotch and whistling 'My Country 'Tis of Thee'. One time we were both in the shower with three of the other guys, and all of a sudden he throws the soap at me. "Here kid, catch," he said.
The soap grazed my shoulder and dropped to the floor behind me. I stooped over to pick it up. "Hey, look, everybody," Artie said. "He dropped the soap. Stringbean dropped the soap." Then he walked up behind me and pressed his crotch against my ass, and everybody was laughing, but I didn't know what that was all about. And I think he had a little bit of a stiffie because I could feel it stabbing my left cheek when he was pressing against me. After a few seconds he moved away, but everybody was still laughing at me. I dried off, put on my jockey shorts and went back to the room. I knew Artie was trying to humiliate me, but at least he was now calling me Stringbean like everybody else.
Pepper was at his desk studying for a Biology exam, and I started on Chapter 22 of The Pickwick Papers for my English class. Then Artie came into the room and he and Pepper were kidding around about Ingrid, and about Sophie, Artie's girlfriend, whom he was banging ten times a day, so he said. And how she liked his big dick in her soft foamy pussy, and he would plunge in and out as the juices poured out of her, and all the time he was giving me funny looks out of the corner of his eye. "You got a girlfriend, Stringbean?" he asked.
"Not yet," I answered. "I'm too busy studying for my courses."
"Sure you are," he said. "Well, you just keep up the good work and go get all A's. Not like the rest of us stupid jocks on this floor. Right, Pepper?"
"Right," said Pepper and they both laughed. I tried to read, but they were talking and talking. I was having trouble concentrating.
"Please. I'm trying to read. Could you please talk in the hall?"
"Sure," said Pepper. And they went out the door and closed it behind them. But I could still hear them talking, and I couldn't absorb what I was reading. Then I heard something that really upset me.
Artie said to Pepper, "I don't know how you can stand rooming with that wimpy little faggot."