Boys Will Be Boys - Their First Time (13 page)

“
What the fuck?
”
Mike asked.

“
Yeah, man,
”
Angelo said his eyebrows creased.

“
What?
”
Noah asked.

“
We all just assumed you
’
d come to bed with us,
”
Randy said.

Noah
’
s eyebrows rose.
“
You really want me to sleep with you. I mean, I wouldn
’
t be in the way?
”

“
Just come over here and get into bed, baby,
”
Mike said.

When Noah was under the covers, between Angelo and Randy (Mike snored, they warned him), he reached beneath the sheets and took two handfuls of cock and balls.
“
Can I ask you guys something?
”

“
Sure,
”
Mike said, half asleep by then.

“
Are you guys really all tops
…
I mean
…
none of you like to get fucked?
”

“
Yup,
”
said Angelo,
“
We hate it, and can
’
t imagine how anyone could like it.
”

“
But it feels so good,
”
Noah said,
“
Seriously, I can
’
t imagine NOT getting fucked.
”

“
Baby, you just bend over and arch that pretty back
,
and you
’
re gonna have all the dirty dick you want for a very long time,
”
Randy said, leaning over to nibble on Noah
’
s ear.
“
Now go to sleep, bitch.
”

Noah smiled and closed his eyes.
“
I think I
’
m going to like living in the city.
”

271

Mickey Erlach

From the moment I stepped off the bus in front of the dorm, I knew everything was going to change. My life up to that point had been too structured, and something was telling me I needed to get lost in order to find my way. There was a distinct eagerness inside me, and I knew that these would be the years that would shape the rest of my life.

During the first few days
,
the students naturally gravitated into social groups – the stoners and the punks, the geeks and the freaks – but I felt suspended, like a hovering insect unsure of where to land
,
w
hich is why when it came time to pledge for fraternities
,
I knew it was my chance to belong.

Andrew, the pledge leader for Sigma Chi, spoke with a veiled urgency, trying to appear nonchalant. I could sense that underneath the slight twitches in his face was a world of mystery, a brain plotting rapidly. His eyes were a clear green, cutting through behind erratic strands of jet-black hair, and they locked into mine periodically. I found myself lost in his gaze and not really listening to what he was saying, but I knew his was the frat I would pledge. I secretly hoped Andrew would be the doorway to the distraction I craved. Every time his eyes landed on me
,
I could feel myself sinking. I had only been in college for a week
,
and
h
igh school seemed like another lifetime, a blurry vision I could barely recall. Now was the time to really become myself.

I couldn
’
t sleep the night before the new pledges were announced, and in the morning when I saw my name on the printout outside the house, my heart did a little dance in my chest. I was a chosen one.

Sigma Chi was a different kind of fraternity. There were no stellar jocks, no preppie trust-funders, no 80s rock meatheads. Sigma chi was the frat for the misfit toys. The ones with the box
“
doesn
’
t play well with others
”
checked on their
fifth
grade report cards. I was too young to see the irony.

As Andrew welcomed the new pledges in the house lobby, I surveyed the scene: a dyed-hair, tattooed muscle-boy whispering into his cell phone, a mousy but attractive young man on a laptop, and a fair-skinned, distinguished-looking intellectual type pressing the eraser of a pencil gently against his cheek while holding a flat, sexy stare.

I swam back into the depth of Andrew
’
s green eyes. As everyone dispersed, I lingered, hoping he would personally congratulate me. He only nodded and mentioned a party on the top of a mountain, starting at midnight. He smiled and turned, a rip in the back of his
T-shirt
revealing a small part of his smooth spine. Intellectual Boy got up and followed him, the two of them so lithe and languid that they might as well have been on a runway
,
modeling their disheveled preppie look. I watched them in a trance until someone bumped into me on his way out, knocking my backpack to the floor.

During afternoon classes, all I could think about was Andrew, his blend of calm and mystery, and how he smelled of something spicy. Later that afternoon I changed outfits four times in my room and my roommate said,
“
Jeez, you
’
re like a girl. Got a date?
”
I ignored him and settled on a
V
-neck sweater that showed a little skin.

The party was cr
o
wded. Everyone drank cheep beer out of plastic cups and talked really fast, as if their ideas elapsed faster than their speech patterns. I couldn
’
t find Andrew or Intellectual
Boy anywhere. I hung out with someone who called himself Judge – we smoked some pot
,
and he told me about his sister who was a rock star in
Germany
. After some time
,
the crowd started thinning out
,
and I noticed a structure up in a tree, a small flickering light piercing out through slats of wood. I got closer and touched the trunk. A rope came down and hit me on the side of my head
,
and I heard someone laugh. Without seeing him, I knew it was Intellectual
Boy.

“
Come on up,
p
irate,
”
he said, still giggling. I could hear Andrew
’
s voice from inside, and when I got up I could see his silhouette. He had a slight, lean body, and as I rubbed up against him to pass I felt myself getting hard. I pushed at the bulge with my fingers to calm it down
,
but
that
had a reverse effect. My erection was ready to break through my pants
,
and I was starting to sweat.

The inside of the tree house looked like a Japanese tea room, with embroidered pillows on the floor and branches draped along the walls. In the center of the room sat a bong and two bottles of Pellegrino. Andrew was smiling behind the light of the single lantern. He looked phosphorescent and slightly sinister. He slowly took his shirt off, and I could see all of his muscles turning and straining beneath his skin. Intellectual Boy took off his glasses and put his lips up against my neck and let out two long breaths. Andrew slowly began touching himself while staring at me with such an innocent, pleading look it was all I could do not to scream. I took it all in, feeling heat in the tips of my fingers, swells in my heart. It wasn
’
t the lingering effects of the pot I had smoked earlier. No, this was a new kind of drug – feeling the breath on my neck, watching beautiful Andrew, drowning in the moments that seemed to slow down and expand. He flicked his finger at me, and I bent forward and kissed him while letting my penis out of the zipper of my jeans. I felt a power unleash, a virility and strength that was finally free to let go. When I came, my sperm shot so far it hit the ceiling. Andrew laughed and stood up, parading his cock around. It was huge for such a small guy. I watched him c
um
into Intellectual Boy
’
s mouth, who jacked himself off into his own palm. Afterward, we just sat there breathing. I barely knew them, but I had never felt so safe, suspended in the warmth of that tree house, with the sound of crickets and a few drunk people singing in the distance.

A few nights later at the pledge dinner
,
I was gutted to see that Intellectual Boy and Andrew both had girls by their sides. In fact, I was the only one there without a date. Andrew
’
s girl was short and pretty, and kept staring at me. I turned away, nibbling on my pizza and trying to seem disinterested. After dessert, Intellectual Boy walked up and whispered something unintelligible in my ear. Before he scurried away I said,
“
What
’
s your name?
”

He turned and smiled, his dirty blond hair falling in front of his chiseled face.

“
Iliad,
”
he said,
“
but people call me Ice.
”

I could see his eyes flicker behind his glasses, as if he w
ere
turning a switch that shot out little bolts of electricity. I wondered, among other things, where the nickname came from.

As I was leaving, Ice palmed me an invitation to an upcoming after-hours party at a club outside the city. I walked around campus for three days with the invite in my pocket, touching it with my fingers all day, to the point that when the night finally came I could barely read the address.

The place was a converted warehouse with a super
modern, almost futuristic interior. Everyone seemed to be in their thirties
,
and once again I couldn
’
t see Andrew or Ice anywhere. I sipped a beer and stared at all the gorgeous people, mostly men. A handsome older gentleman in a suit approached me and said,
“
Hello there, you must be Andrew
’
s friend.
”

“
How did you know that?
”
I
asked
.

His hair was white
,
and his eyes were sky blue. He looked like a small boy caught in a fifty-year
-
old body.

“
Follow me,
”
he said.

He took my hand and immediately I was hard again. I couldn
’
t help it, with his big dark hand squeezing mine just a little harder than expected. I wanted him to lead me on and on, to surrender to him completely.

We slinked through a red velvet curtain
,
and there they were: Andrew, Ice, and some other guys I didn
’
t recognize. They were all sitting on a large gray ottoman sharing a joint. I took a hit and caught Andrew
’
s eye, remembering that wonderful, vulnerable look that had been burned into my memory. Here though, Andrew was poised and demure, and Ice even more so. I wished to become them, to walk into their skin, to cover myself in their beauty.

The white
-
haired guy, Price, brought me a Popsicle. I started eating it immediately
,
and he watched me from the corner of his eye. I slowed my tongue way down, letting each lick last. For the first time in my life, I felt sexy.

Andrew stood up and asked me to dance. I followed him to another room that smelled of tangerine and sweat
,
and we danced with our bodies barely touching. We each had mounds in our pants, and every once in a while we
’
d inadvertently rub our jeans together. For hours we danced, lost in the DJ
’
s beats. When the music finally faded
,
Andrew grabbed me and held me close, our bodies clinging together. I thought
p
lease
,
don
’
t stop
;
let me stay here forever.

When I moved into the Sigma Chi house
,
everything changed. I was given the only room that was in the attic, and Ice and Andrew lost their subtle charm and became very demanding.

Ice would periodically come up late at night and order me to masturbate.
“
Touch yourself,
”
he
’
d say, deadpan. At first I laughed but his expression didn
’
t change, cold as his name implied. In response I
,
too
,
became serious, touching myself slowly and tenderly. It was on those afternoons that I was beginning to see what I had wanted all along, this feeling of surrender, and this opening of myself.

Each time I did it with more and more care and precision, hoping he would join me, but he never did. He just watched. One time however, while watching me, he reached down and felt himself through his pants
,
and I let out a soft groan, and he said,
“
Stop.
”
He walked over to me and put his lips against my neck like he had done on the first night in the tree house. He kept on, silent except for his breathing, and without even touching my cock, I shot onto my stomach. He slowly cleaned it up for me with one of my dirty
T-shirt
s and left the room in silence. I lay there for most of the night, naked and breathing, at times shaken with the aftershocks of pleasure.

By the end of the first year
,
I still hadn
’
t seen much of Andrew but was constantly reminded of his look that night in the tree house. A look of such pure desire that I had never witnessed before, especially toward me.

The day before summer break
,
I saw him sleeping in the library on one of the big brown chairs. I watched him for a while, and then woke him up by touching my pen to his hairless arm. He opened his eyes, two emeralds glistening as if he had been waiting for me all along. He ran his hands through his hair and said,
“
Let
’
s go.
”

He led me back to the tree house and opened a secret compartment, taking out a bottle of red wine. We cheered and drank in silence until he turned my head towards his and kissed me while running his fingers delicately down the line of my cheek.

He pulled back and said,
“
You are an old soul.
”

He kissed me again with sweet, full wine lips
,
and I once again began to drown. Dusk was descending
,
and I could hear creatures coming out of hiding. He began to hum
,
and I fell in and out of sleep, my head on his leg.