Fraternity Fuck-Buddy

From: Mike Avanti

Picture: Kristen Bjorn

Published in: Playguy, November 1991

Greeks do it better!

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Summertime in a university town like Gainesville is just about the nicest time of year. True, the tens of thousands of students dwindle to a meager few thousand, with a corresponding drop in the number of cute guys to be found in the grocery stores, shopping centers, and bars. But the boys who do stay for the summer session can usually be found shirtless and stretched out in the plaza by the library, or biking across campus in shorts and a tank-top or simply hanging out in the cool, dark basement of the Science Library. The point is that summertime at the University of Florida is the best time for boy-watching.

The first Saturday in July promised to be yet another in a long string of hot, muggy days. It also promised to be the kind of day that would fill the abandoned quarry just west of town with dozens of hot guys in Speedos, working on their tans or splashing around in the water.

I hadn't been out to the quarry in months. It was private property, of course, and every now and then the sheriff would shoo away the swimmers. But on really hot days the sheriff didn't usually bother anyone.

The road out to the quarry was narrow, with cow pastures and woods on both sides. As I drove along, I had the window down with my left arm getting some sun and the radio blaring. Already I was seeing hopeful signs: a cluster of bikers were heading out the road. As I passed them, I honked my horn and admired their bronzed, muscular legs pumping hard on the pedals. Each of them was wearing tight black shorts, so I got a nice long view of thigh and ass as I drove by.

A little ways down the road, I saw another fellow on a bike approaching from the opposite direction. He was biking solo, dressed in bike shorts but no shirt or helmet. I slowed down a bit to check him out. Then, as he approached, I could see his beautiful smooth chest and wide bronzed shoulders.

He wasn't wearing any socks, so I got a good view of his legs from mid-thigh to lower ankle, where his feet disappeared into some disreputable-looking sneakers. When we were practically side by side, I looked directly at him and I was surprised to see him hold my eye. Then he shot past me and was gone. I quickly adjusted the mirror so I could see him pass. As I watched, I saw him stop peddling, then sit up straight so that he could twist around and see my jeep. He had one hand on the handlebars, but he must not have had a very firm grip. A second later he hit a rock or a pot hole or something. Then his bike went careening off the road and into the grass.

I slammed on my brakes, leaving tire marks on the pavement, turned around, and drove back to where the biker had gone down. By the time I pulled my jeep in front of him, he was already disentangling himself from the wreckage.

"Hey, man, are you OK?" I asked.

"Yeah, I think so, but I might have hurt my ankle."

"Here, lemme give you a hand," I helped him up, opened the back of my jeep, and offered him a place to sit. He hopped over and plopped down, rubbing his injured ankle and surveying his bike.

"Oh, no! My bike is fucked," he cried--rather melodramatically--just as the group of bikers I had passed earlier sped by in a whirl of gears and chains.

"Forget the bike. How's that ankle?"

"It hurts like hell."

"Let's see." I knelt down in front of him, admiring his powerful shoulders and the glistening sheen of sweat that covered his torso. His brown, curly hair was matted to his forehead and he was breathing through his mouth, causing his pouty lips to form a perfect O. "Gimme your foot. We better get that shoe off."

I held his calf in one hand and started pulling at the laces on his cross training shoes with the other. His leg was still warm from peddling so hard, and sand and bits of grass clung to it. Taking care to proceed with caution, I pulled off the shoe and tossed it into the back of the jeep.

"Can you rotate your foot?" I asked.

The biker complied, then pointed his foot and spread his toes. I gently held his ankle in my left hand and, with my right, began massaging his foot--secretly admiring the pattern of hair on his ankle and calf. The wispy brown frosting on his lower leg spread out along the top of his foot, then abruptly halted. His foot was tan all over, leading me to believe that he didn't wear shoes when he didn't have to. The instep was soft and moist, and the ball of his foot fit snugly into my palm.

"It isn't broken, but it will probably swell a bit," I predicted.

"It's feeling a little better already," he said, then looked down and tossed me a gentle smile.

Emboldened by what was either his genuine appreciation for my concern or a blatant come-on, I continued my massage. First I explored the warm, smooth skin under his toes, working my fingers between them. Then I massaged each toe between a thumb and forefinger.

My gaze drifted up his leg and I got a nice, up-close view of the biker's fat basket. Never mind that his stomach and chest were beautifully sculpted with every muscle displayed to its best advantage! Little rivulets of sweat trickled down his chest and left telltale tracks among the fine silky hairs on his stomach. I also noticed that his nipples stood out hard. But whether from the bike workout or from my massage, I couldn't tell.

My own cock was beginning to respond to the visual stimulation. When I felt it strain against my shorts, I wondered if my hard-on would be obvious if I stood up. Then again, I half hoped he'd see how much he'd turned mean.

"My name's Kyle," he said, scattering the lewd thoughts that were beginning to form in my head.

"I'm Mike. I'm in Agricultural Engineering."

"I'm in the Business department," he volunteered, his eyes drifting below my waistline.

"There's no way you're going to get home on that ankle. Hey! Let me give you a lift," I suggested.

Kyle readily agreed, hopping into the passenger seat while I secured his bike onto the back of my jeep.

"Where do you live, Kyle?" I asked, hoping against hope that we would finish at his place what we had started in back of the jeep.

"On campus. In the Delta Pi Omega house," he replied.

My heart sank into my belly. A fraternity hardly sounded like a promising venue for a hot fuck. Frat boys were always harassing the gays on campus, continually trying to prove their manliness by making prank phone calls to the gay hotline or yelling insults from their cars as they drove by the local gay bar. Most of them were pure shitheads and I was beginning to have my doubts about Kyle. But even if he was a frat boy, he did have great legs! It wasn't long before he turned and caught me admiring them.

"How long have you been in the fraternity?" I asked, hastily riveting my roving eyes to the road.

"Since last January," Kyle explained. I lived in a dorm the first term, but I moved into the Delta Pi house last semester."

"You like it?" I asked, not doing too good of job of masking my disbelief that anyone could like living with a bunch of assholes.

Kyle grinned, no doubt having caught on to my skepticism. "It's not that bad. Most of the brothers are OK. Besides, who wouldn't want to live in a house surrounded by thirty-five hunks?" He gave me another big smile and a wink. Then I knew we understood each other.

I pulled into the driveway of a large brick building with a statue of a mountain lion in the front yard. An antique car with the fraternity's letters painted on the side was parked under an overhang. And bits of toilet paper hung from the old oak trees, reminders of the last raid by a rival house.

I pulled Kyle's bike out of the jeep and leaned it against the tree, then helped him hobble up the steps to the front door. When the Greek invited me in, I wasn't about to let slip the chance to see the inside of a real frat house. But as he opened the door, I had second thoughts about this dubious honor.

Other than a faint aroma of stale pizza and a few empty beer cans lying about-including one lodged in the ceiling light fixture of the living room-it was not so bad. There were dozens of Greek items hanging on the walls: paddles, photos, trophies, and such. And I figured these were there to give the frat boys an instant tribal identity. Frats, after all, are not big on their members forming a personal identity.

"C'mon. The place is empty ... I'll show you my room," Kyle offered.

We went up to the second floor--going slowly up the stairs--to where Kyle had a corner room with a window looking out over the woods.

"Nice," I admitted. "Makes most of the dorm rooms look like dumps."

"Yeah, like I said, it's not so bad." Kyle leaned against the desk and began unlacing his remaining shoe, then slid down his shorts to reveal a wiry triangle of pubic hairs surrounding a dark, veiny shaft and two floppy balls. "I need a shower. Care to join me?"

I grinned and nodded my head, unable to take my eyes off of Kyle's hot body.

"No, let me," he said, pushing my hands away from my T-shirt. As he lifted it up, I raised my arms, allowing him to pull the shirt over my head. Becoming more daring, Kyle slipped his right hand up along my side and paused to cup my left pec in his hand. Then he continued to slide his hand up until he was stroking the wiry tuft of dark hair under my arm.

With his other hand, he slipped the waistband of my shorts over my hips and eased it over my ass. By then only my cock was covered. And it was stiff and aching to get free. When Kyle bent down and untied my sneakers, I kicked them off and he pulled off my socks. Then, with his face only inches from my crotch, Kyle yanked down my shorts and liberated my dick.

It was already totally hard. But to make things more interesting, I lifted Kyle's head up and brought his face to my lips. Then I pressed my body against his and covered his mouth with mine.

My tongue explored his mouth while my hands fluttered across the hard curves of his biceps and the mounds of his fine round ass cheeks. Unable to control myself, I pressed my hard dick against the dense mat of pubic hair at Kyle's crotch. Then my cock lunged toward his belly.

The Greek's rod quickly expanded to its full seven inches and insinuated itself up between my stomach and his. As we continued to kiss, Kyle began to squirm and thrust his hips, strumming his cock across the firm abdominal muscles of my stomach. After a while Kyle ended our kiss and began caressing my neck and chin with his soft lips. Then he whispered to remind me of the shower we'd planned to take and gently led me across the hall to the bathroom.

Like some of the older dorms on campus, this place featured a large communal stall with several shower heads. Soon we were enjoying the pounding massage of the water as it hammered away on our backs. The water felt cool compared to our hot bodies, but Kyle wasted no time getting thoroughly wet.

Pulling me under the spray, he began slathering soap across my torso. His fingers worked into the curls on my chest. Then he slipped his hands under my arms and drew me close while he soaped up my ass.

With my arms draped around him, I began lathering the crack between his ass cheeks. My cock was stiff with anticipation, throbbing and ready to plow into Kyle's soapy fuck-hole. But I probed the Greek's chute with my finger to make certain he was ready for a sound fucking.

"Suck me off first," he whispered, pushing me down to my knees. Then he leaned back against the tile wall and gave a stroke to his huge erection.

My lips parted and locked onto his shining cock-head. I twirled my tongue along the rim of his glans, then traced the frenum and piss-slit with its tip. Then Kyle started to squirm and writhe with pleasure.

I swallowed hard, then began to ease Kyle's seven-inch member down my throat. His was thicker than most cocks I'd ever had and I knew that taking him all the way was not going to be easy. My lips stretched over his veiny shaft and my tongue coiled back against the roof of my mouth. But Kyle's cock-head was pushing against the back of my throat and I didn't think I could take any more.

All of a sudden Kyle grabbed the back of my head and, with one thrust of his hips, buried his cock into my throat. My face pressed into the hair around his crotch while stiff pubic hairs tickled my nose. Then Kyle pulled his cock halfway out of my mouth and, with another quick thrust, shoved it in again.

I picked up his rhythm and began caressing his cock with my tongue and lips. First I teased its shaft with my lips and tickled the cock-head with my tongue. Then he began fucking my mouth even faster and harder.

"Suck my balls! Suck 'em," he pleaded.

Of course I pulled away from his dick and scooted around to work on his ball sack. Taking both of his nuts between my lips, I sucked them into my mouth while his hot cock slapped up against my face. My hands massaged his inner thighs and kneaded his ass cheeks. Then I licked his scrotum and rubbed my beard-stubbled cheeks against the underside of his shaft as hot water pounded down on my back.

By then Kyle's breath was coming in fast, shallow snatches. His hands roughly worked over the back of my head, pushing my face into his engorged cock. Then the shaft swelled as if it were about ready to explode.

With no time to spare, I took his horny tool all the way into my mouth. A drop of pre-cum oozed from his crown and its hot, salty taste coated my tongue, exciting me something fierce. I wanted more--and I didn't have to wait too long to get it.

Kyle's moans echoed off the tile walls. The first blast of cum erupted from his cock as the Greek crammed his dick down my throat. The next thing I knew a second wad had filled my mouth with its gooey warmth. Then I swallowed hard as a third and a fourth blast of jizz exploded into my mouth. Sucking as hard as I could, I drained his cock of every last salty-sweet drop. Kyle gave one last grunt and let loose a final drop of spunk. Then he looked down at me with dreamy, droopy-lidded eyes.

Half-dazed, I stood up and turned off the shower. As the last trickle of water dripped from the shower head, we kissed passionately. My lips, sticky with cum, stuck to his. Then Kyle touched my hard rod and acknowledged that we weren't finished yet.

The Greek led me back to his room and guided me to his bed. His hands explored my pecs, my back, my ass. Then he ground his hips against my cock and I wrapped my arms around his shoulders.

With Kyle stretched out alongside me, my cock pointed toward his steamy, moist ass crack. There, the fine dark hairs were still wet from our shower and I inched closer to the source of his heat.

"I think I better elevate my ankle," Kyle whispered, lifting his right leg and placing it on my left shoulder. His foot caressed my neck and his toes tickled my ear. Then I looked down and noticed how his cock lay nestled in his damp crotch hair and his ball sack drooped heavily, nearly covering his asshole.

Running my hands up the inside of his thigh and caressing the strong muscles of his calf, I kissed the ball of his foot and glided my tongue along its smooth sole. As I probed between his toes with my tongue, I gave my cock a couple of pumps. Then, my hand traveled down his leg and one finger strummed his fuck-hole.

It was soft and pink and still very wet. I moved closer to the bed so that the head of my cock was just touching Kyle's tight little hole. Then I felt his asshole quiver and twitch, inviting me in.

When I pressed the head of my cock against his hole, the tip disappeared into his rectum. Kyle's erratic breathing and whispered words of encouragement made me want to plunge deeper. So I pushed a little harder and my dick jetted into his velvety butthole. With my crotch hairs pressed up against his ball sack, Kyle rolled his head from side to side and began flogging his stiff prick. I planted a row of kisses along the inside of his foot. Then my hips began to buckle and lunge forward.

At first, I fucked him as slowly as I could, sliding out my cock inch by inch then, just as slowly, pushing it back in. Looking down, I watched my cock disappear up his fiery hole and half expected the heat of his ass to somehow transform my dick, to change it in some way, the way a furnace hardens steel. But every time I pulled it out, my dick looked the same as it had going in.

Meanwhile Kyle was frantically beating off with both hands. His abdomen heaved in and out as he breathed harder and faster. The pink head of cock repeatedly poked through his clenched fists, then vanished on the upstroke. Then, I reached for his foot, took his big toe between my lips and ran my tongue under the ball of his toe. Gingerly, my tongue explored the tender skin between his toes. Riding him hard and fast, I grasped his hairy thighs to hold him steady. Then droplets of sweat began to run down my chest and neck, dampening the hair on my chest and under my arms. By the way Kyle was moaning and groaning, I could tell he was almost there. His hands became a blur as he pounded his meat and his asshole contracted around my shaft. A few heartbeats later, a hot stream of juice shot from his cock and splashed across his pecs.

At the exact same moment, Kyle's sphincter gripped my cock and I felt the cum surge in my balls. With one last thrust of my hips, I buried my dick as deep as I could into his sweet ass. Then my cum-load erupted, filling him with a blast of creamy wetness.

As I drove home later that afternoon, it occurred to me that I'd never made it to the quarry for a swim. Not that it mattered. But after we'd had sex, Kyle had written his phone number across my chest with a felt tip marker and signed his name across my stomach, like he owned me or something. No way I could be seen in public without a shirt! But I didn't mind--not as long as I could look forward to another roll between the sheets with my new fuck-buddy from Delta Pi Omega.