You can write the author at: brownluver@yahoo.com or
Chris Carr at: andy_dick35@hotmail.com
Thanks!
CHAPTER XV
Sunday afternoon, I accompanied my parents and Duane up to the University of Illinois to
help my broher getsettled in his dorm room. Dad was his usual proud self, the same way
he'd been when my older brothers left for college. Mom, true to form, kept dabbing at her
eyes while claiming her allergies were acting up. Duane seemed restless. He couldn't stop
shifting around, and at first, I thought it was because he was surrounded by mounds of
duffel bags full of clothes and other personal effects. But he'd carved out a comfortable
niche in the backseat of dad's Land Rover, as I had. Something else was troubling him.
Since his pool party last Saturday, Duane had been giving me strange looks, glares really,
that bordered somewhere between disgust and annoyance. I suspected he knew that something
had happened between Craig and I in the restroom at the Aquatic Center. If he knew that
Craig and I had hooked up three times since then, I'd hate to think how my brother would
be now. These days, it was hard to consider anything when Craig and I were
together--anything except sex, that is. We'd nearly broken Craig's bed one time. My ass
still ached from the marathon fucking he'd put me through the last tiime. There was no way
he'd be hitting it anytime soon, not with my ass so sore. But we'd made plans to meet
today, and there was plenty of pleasure to be found with him outside of fucking. His dick
wasn't listed among the strongest addictions, but damn, if it shouldn't be.
"Here it is. Urbana, Illinois," mom said.
Thank goodness. The four hour drive was over!
Duane was assigned to an all-male dorm by the name of Oglesby. The building was a brick
and glass tower, at least thirteen stories high, and when we arrived, we found crowds of
people, moving things out of moving trucks and minivans loaded down with possessions, and
into the dorm. Blue-shirted security guards directed traffic, and others stood outside the
dorm, keeping the constant flow of people and possessions more ordered and less confusing.
Thanks to their assistance, we were able to get Duane and his things situated into room
1114 within two hours.
His room was nothing to crow about; a space a bit larger than our parents' walk-in closet
at home, with just enough room to cram in twin-sized bunk beds, two desks and two chests
of drawers. Duane's roommate was a grungy blonde, pierced dude from some unknown prairie
town in Illinois. I could tell DUane was going to have lots of fun with him as a roommate!
As my mom busied herself putting away Duane's clothes in the chest of drawers, and dad and
Duane watched a baseball game on the tube, I wandered upstairs, to the 13th floor.
Unfolding the piece of scrap paper in my shorts pocket, I ambled toward the room number
written there: 1321. I knocked.
"What took you so long, kid?"
Craig looked delicious clad only in his black boxer-briefs. He didn't allow me a response;
instead, he pulled me into the room and sandwiched me between himself and the closed door.
His tongue swirled through my mouth like a wildfire, and all I could think about was that
old Total song, "Kissinig You." Unfortunately, we didn't have enough time to
kiss until my lips numbed, the way I liked. Craig pressed my head down, all the way, to
his bulging crotch. I didn't waste time.
Craig was all the way hard when I pulled down his boxer-briefs. He tilted my head back and
inserted himself between my lips, leaning forward until his balls sat on my chin. His
sticky, wet dick slid easily down my throat, now that constant practice had allowed it to
carve out a path. Cupping his hands over my ears, Craig power flexed his hips, driving
himself in and out of my mouth so fast, he kept me gagging. He refused to let up, however,
and the way his eyes burned that sexy crazy blue let me know he needed to bust his
nut--quick. I kept an air-tight suction on his shaft, and tickled the fat head with my
tongue. Within minutes, his warm fluid flooded my mouth and throat, gushing and spewing a
stream that spilled out the sides of my mouth, no matter how fast I tried to swallow.
"Take that shit, kid. Yeah, boy. Take that shit."
Craig's release left my mouth a dripping mess, and the floor a pattern of wet dots and
spots. He leaned down and kissed me dead on my forehead, softly.
"Okay, you better get back downstairs--"
"Open this FUCKING door, RIGHT muthafucking now, Craig."
Chapter XVI
The door rattled on its hinges as Duane's pounding fists landed against it. How could he
know I was up here? Then, I remembered. Up until a few weeks ago, Duane and Craig were
supposed to be roommates in THIS room. I wiped at my face and tried to make myself
presentable as Craig unlocked the door.
When the door swung open, Craig and Duane faced off. Craig looked away, and Duane's
blazing eyes turned on me. "Let's go." It was not a statement, but a direct
order--and by the tone of his voice, one he didn't plan on repeating.
"I'll call you, kid." Craig said as I followed Duane out the door.
When Duane and I got in the stairwell, he laid into me. "I oughta beat your ass right
now, Trace. I can't believe you would--Are you fucking crazy? Do you have a death wish?
Mom is downstairs--downstairs!--worried that you got lost or something. And here you are,
up here with that stupid ass nigga."
"Alright, alright. I messed up. Let's just go down there and keep mom from
worrying."
"No." Duane stuck his finger into the center of my chest. "You stay the
fuck away from Craig! You hear? I want you to leave that nigga alone."
I slapped his hand away. "Why are you so damned concerned, Duane? You ain't my daddy,
in case you forgot."
"Yeah, you best be glad I'm NOT dad having to talk to you about this shit."
He got me there. I shuddered to think how different things would be if my father did know
what was going on between Craig and his baby boys. I took a seat on one of the steps.
"Dad would kick our asses up and down all these steps if he even suspected something
was going on," I said.
Duane came and sat next to me. "I don't know, Trace. Seems like he'd do something
worse than that."
In the silence that followed, I guess we were trying to imagine what that could be. I
shuddered, realizing for the first time, the consequences of discovery of my involvement
with Craig.
"He's just using you, you know. You ain't nothing but a new piece of ass to him,
Trace. I hope you see that," Duane said.
I shrugged. "We're just having fun."
"Yeah? For how long? And how far are you willing to go to get it?"
I hadn't considered an end to Craig and I sexing, and we hadn't discussed where things
would go once he left for college.
"It's probably over, Duane. It's going to be impossible for me to see Craig with him
four hours away from me." I said this, not because I believed it, but because it I
knew it was what Duane wanted to
hear.
He seemed to relax. This was the first time in weeks that Duane had said more than two
words to me. The return of civility gave me an opportunity to ask Duane a question that
had been on my mind since the day I discovered him and Craig together.
"Duane...what's the deal with you and Craig?"
He glanced at me, nostrils flared. "Ain't shit going on between me and Craig
McLemore. And if you used half the sense God gave you, you wouldn't have shit to do with
him, either."
I ignored his statement. "But there was...something...between y'all."
"We fucked a couple times, okay? When Tisha wasn't giving it up, or Craig's gal
wasn't around, we got off with each other. That's all. So don't be asking me if I'm gay,
cause I ain't."
"How long--"
"Look, Trace. It happened a few times in the past year, that's all. Nothing
serious."
Again, silence. I could feel Duane closing up, reverting back to his distant coldness. I
had to say or do something.
"Craig...well, I think Craig's gay."
I couldn't bring myself to tell Duane about Craig jacking off to that gay porno. He'd
probably want to know how I'd seen that, and I sure wasn't ready to talk about that day,
over a month ago, when I'd nearly busted a nut watching Craig through his window.
Perhaps, Duane sensed my reluctance. When he spoke his next words, he didn't even look at
me. "And you? What about you, Trace? You gay?"
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