Tristan
"Tongue m'ass, Roomy."
"I like it when you give orders," said Tristan as he lowered his head towards the supine Colton, his broad shoulders on the pillows and his knees pulled up to his chest.
They had just returned from their early morning run, setting out before it was properly light for a chilly tour of the University campus. This was part of Colton's punishing fitness regime that included two hours in the footballers' gymnasium every day and a supplementary workout on the bench in their dorm room either in the morning or the afternoon, depending on his classes. It was many months until the next football season when team training would commence again, but Colton was adamant that he was going to be at the peak of his fitness when the time came.
Tristan was not so dedicated and played no sport. He went to the students' gym a couple of times a week for a more leisurely workout and swam laps every now and then. He did accompany Colton on these morning runs and liked the feeling that he might be mistaken for an athlete as he was in the company of the starting quarterback, besides, he could admire Colton's arse and meaty thighs barely encased in the silky blue running shorts that were split so high that the straps of his jock could be seen with each stride.
This stained jock was all Colton was wearing now that they were back and on the bed. Tristan manoeuvred himself to get the good of it and to 'help' Colton out, as the quarterback put it. He had to be careful not to slip into the gap formed by the two college-issued beds being pushed together. It was a highly convenient arrangement, although Tristan usually slept spooned right up to his naked roommate or else Colton pulled him across his manly chest when he slept, like a 'true jock' in the stories that Tristan read, flat on his back with his spare arm behind his head, armpit on display, making Tristan feel safe and loved-although he was still afraid to voice this.
Colton had worked up quite a sweat and Tristan felt somewhat light headed being so close to its masculine epicentre. He began by tonguing and kissing the beefy cheeks, working ever closer to the jock's pink pucker. Finally he grazed it with his tongue and was delighted when he felt the muscles flutter around the tip. Colton moaned in a basso growl. He then licked and kissed and slobbered with complete abandon, sometimes rolling his tongue into a probe, all in the hope of driving Colton wild. For variation and to relieve his aching tongue a little, Tristan pressed his nose into Colton's big balls and cropped pubes, inhaling with little regard for his own dignity, which, in any case, had evaporated long ago.
"I'm growing out m'pubes and m'hair this year," Colton interjected informatively, somewhat breaking the spell.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. Everyone else trims but I'll be different. You'd like Colty with a big hairy bush?" he asked as he forcefully pressed Tristans's face into his groin.
"Yeah, very manly, peaking above your waistband maybe. And you'd look hot with hair down to your shoulders."
"Doin' it for y'all. Back on my ass, asslicker."
Tristan obeyed and Colton used his hands to spread his cheeks wider. Tristan now clawed the tender flesh apart, sparing but a moment's thought for his fingernails. Finally the muscles gave way and the quarterback gaped slightly. Tristan thought fleetingly of Goaltender's Tender Gape-a college ice hocky story set at Notre Dame-and drove his middle finger brutally into the spit-soaked maw. Colton let out a yelp, which may have been heard down the corridor. Tristan wiggled his invading digit in the tight, fleshy tunnel until he found the jock's prostate and touched it. Colton made an incomprehensible noise as he writhed on the bed, his stomach now awash with his dude dew that issued forth in a steady stream from the straining pouch of the jockstrap. "Don't touch it!" commanded Tristan in an uncharacteristically firm voice. It was Colton's turn to obey.
With his free hand, Tristan slapped Colton's meaty and vulnerable arse. A red handprint was visible on the flesh. "Do it again!" cried Colton. Tristan did, again and again. Without a doubt the noise would be heard outside. "Slap m'balls!" Tristan complied, alternating between buttock and ball sack. The attack intensified and, following a particularly stinging blow to the scrotum, Colton came in great volume, his manly seed oozing through the ancient fabric of the garment. A few stokes of his own brought Tristan off, adding to the mess on Colton's groin. He then very gently withdrew his finger from the abused anus.
"Fuck that was good!" gasped Colton at last. He broke into a grin. "You've really know how to satisfy y'man, Roomy, but y'sure have a mean streak. Day-amn, I like that! Give y'man a kiss." Their lips met and soon Colton had his arms around Tristan and Tristan was covered in cum too. "Suck it out of the pouch. Don't waste m'spooge. A-grade jock protein." Tristan complied with this cheesy request and indeed found that it was good stuff.
"We're good together?" asked Tristan shyly as they grabbed their kit and made for the showers.
"Best sex I've ever had," replied Colt in Tristan's shell-like. Tristan beamed at him.
Under 'their' shower they were soon joined by Parker and Hollis. Tristan often wondered if they 'helped each other out' in the privacy of their room. He had no way of knowing, but appreciated their differing but equally hot bodies. A minute later Deshawn entered through the swing doors. There were other vacant stands but Colton playfully called him over and insisted that he shared with his buddies. De hung his towel on a ceramic hook and muscled-in between Colton and Hollis. There were only four showerheads, so everyone had to move a little so that all received some hot water. Their bodies were touching.
"This is so gay!" said Tristan at last, laughing uncontrollably, as they continually bumped each other as they struggled to apply shampoo and body wash.
"No, no! We're all bros here," said Parker adamantly as he almost certainly deliberately brushed against Deshawn's impressive hanging meat.
"Hey!" cried Deshawn as he stepped back only to find his butt up against Hollis. "Sorry, Holly, man."
"Y'making me hard, De, get y'ass off'n m'junk."
"Who'll wash m'back?" asked Colton, turning around.
Parker made no reply, but applied body wash and began to soap up the muscley expanse of Colton's shoulders.
"Stone, y'erection is just about t'poke m'eye out," said Hollis, looking down at Colton's hardon that was standing proudly upright, the still-hooded tip slightly north of his belly button.
Colton displayed not the slightest shame but instead said: "Shut up do and somethin' useful; wash De's fat ass."
Hollis was laughing but surprisingly complied. Deshawn didn't complain, but visibly hardened. Hollis made soapy circles on each buttock and wrote 'fuck me' with his fingertip in the foam-he showed Tristan who laughed even harder.
"M'sweaty crack could sure use some 'tention," drawled Deshawn. Hollis ran the soapy edge of his hand down the ebony arse trench and then held up a soapy finger and winked at the company. Deshawn couldn't see, but the others did.
"Hey!" cried Deshawn in alarm when his felt the finger at his backdoor. "No one goes there!" He turned in anger to the laughing Hollis who was now also chubbed up. "You some sick fuck, Holly," he said, looking down at his white cowboy cock.
"Come on, De, let me wash you," said Parker. They changed places and Parker began a business-like job all over the torso of the linebacker who stood there with a faraway look in his eyes. "Fuck, you're ripped, De," he said in admiration. He rotated his palms on Deshawn's nipples, pressing down hard, but it was Parker who was now sporting wood.
"It's usually only me, the gay boy, who's hard," observed Tristan who was now washing Hollis' hair.
"Don't mean nothin'," said Hollis not turning round.
"Nah, just bro stuff," confirmed Parker once again, "Happens all the time in the locker room. Why, once I got m'ass stung beet red with a wet towel by this cunt of a goalie and when I looked down…." He trailed off, suddenly realizing that he had said too much. He blushed, visible even under the shower.
"Can I kiss it better?" asked Tristan mischievously. He was already gently washing the lacrosse player's broad shoulders.
"Y'all such a fag…" began Parker who had regained his laconic humour. Then suddenly, "Shit, Colt! Jesus fuck you're a degenerate!" With a grunt Colton had ejaculated all over the floor, his cum just missing Parker's feet. All five stood mesmerized as Colton squeezed out the last drops, the chunky puddle offering resistance for some minutes before it was finally washed down the drain. When they looked up, Colton was unabashed and grinning.
"Day-amn that was a big load, Colt," commented Hollis in admiration.
"S'why they made me quarterback, Holly. Come on ladies, breakfast awaits."
They rinsed off and, still muttering about the quarterback's shameless conduct as they shaved at the basins before returning to their respective rooms, youthful cocks and balls swinging beneath their loosely tied towels.
The following weekend saw Tristan visiting his father while Colton, braving the Greyhound bus, went down to the farm. Tristan took Ben and Ivy's plans for the house and pored over them with his father and Cylvah around the glass dining table.
The first were the designs for the former stable loft. His father grunted and admitted that the design was quite economical, being merely a partitioning of the open space but with the necessary insulation and plumbing features. Of the Japanese-style bathroom he said little, but Tristan was used to this and did not register any actual disapproval. Cylvah was a little puzzled as it was not the sort 'glamour' that she associated with more conventional designs, but was pleased when Tristan sought her opinion.
Of the main house, the unfurled blueprint showed the new downstairs bathroom, greatly enlarged as it was by the inclusion of a former closet and a redundant part of a corridor. The old screened porch off the kitchen was to be completely rebuilt and extended, and the access to the stable via the narrow stairs was now more fully incorporated undercover. The porch opened onto a paved and gravelled terrace, rather than suburban cliché of timber decking, and here was indicated the barbecue and outdoor kitchen of the sort that Colton had admired at the cabin. They all agreed that this would be expensive. The plans for the basement bedroom were as yet not complete.
Then there was more extensive work upstairs delineated on the second sheet. Here the old boxroom became a new bathroom for the girls and the expansive landing became a small sitting room, with an alcove that could be screened off with a sliding wall for a tiny extra bedroom, albeit one without a window. His father admitted that this was a very clever piece of design. The attic bedroom at the rear was altered substantially to create a small balcony, it being a fire escape route onto the roof. Tristan tried to imagine the design of his home fully realised and walked through the new spaces in his mind's eye.
Cylvah surprised Tristan by asking telling questions about pipe work and ventilation-clearly she could read plans better than either of them. As to the 'finishes' in the new bathrooms, Tristan could provide no information and so an excited Cylvah spent the evening with Tristan going through glossy magazines looking for ideas. Tristan felt he would go mad, but bravely faked enthusiasm.
"How were your mid-terms, Tristan?" His father had asked this as the three of them sat stiffly at dinner, which was served by Mrs Torres. Tristan didn't exactly like his father's tone, which was not in the manner of friendly inquiry but seemed somehow to emphasise that Tristan was not an adult of nearly twenty, but still a troublesome schoolboy.
"I'm doing all right, I believe, Dad." He replied, defensively. "Only Greek has actual exams and the rest is graded by coursework."
"You're doing Greek? Ancient Greek?"
"Yes Dad, I told you, remember? I'd done it at school so I thought…"
His father cut him off. "So this University doesn't even have proper exams?"
"Not in my subjects." His father snorted and seemed to indicate he thought little of such disciplines. "And it was you who selected it, remember?"
"Only because you were out of control. And in Iain Macpherson's, what is it, British History?"
"Nineteenth Century. A distinction, two A-pluses and a B"
"You don't want a degree with Bs, Tristan, so lift your game."
Tristan was beginning to get annoyed and saw that Cylvah had shot him a sympathetic glance. "And how are things going with you at Globoco, Dad. What are you, junior vice-president lubricants?"
Mr Isley sensed that he was being baited by his son. "Shale oil and we don't have junior vice-presidents, as you well know and from which you benefit, I might remind you. We are not here to discuss my business."
"I thought we were just having dinner and catching up, Dad," said Tristan. "I didn't think I was being hauled into the Head's study."
His father gave way slightly. "No, of course you're not, Tristan. I'm pleased that you are passing and enjoying University. I was just making sure you were all right-after everything and now with the baby…"
"What baby?"
"Why, you're mother's baby, of course."
"When is it due?"
Mr Isley put down his cutlery. "Tristan, she had it a fortnight ago. Didn't you know?"
"No, nobody told me!"
"Well, I'm sorry. I was told by the Hollingworths," he said, naming their former neighbours, "and naturally I thought your mother or Rodger would have let you know."
"Well they didn't!" cried Tristan, just short of screaming.
"Your mom had a difficult time," interjected Cylvah, "She lost a heap of blood and they were real worried for a spell."
"All the more reason why I should have been told! My own mother could have died and nobody cares a damn about me. I'm her fuckin' son!"
"Well, she didn't die," said his father, flatly. "They both had to spend an extra week in hospital and now they're home, I believe."
"And the baby?"
"A little girl. Amy."
"Alice," corrected Cylvah.
"Yes, of course. Alice Isolde. That's something, Tristan. I'm sure she was thinking of you."
"Or Rodger Trefusis' Cornish mother."
"You know that?"
"No, but I bet it'll be something like that."
"Don't be bitter, Tris," said Cylvah, extending her hand to touch his.
"Anyway,' continued Mr Isley, "I wouldn't have thought you would be interested in children."
There was a dreadful silence until it was broken by Cylvah. "Mark! What are you saying to Tristan?"
Tristan's father was slightly taken aback. "It's just that Tristan can't have children and naturally…"
Surprisingly, Tristan wasn't angry, merely disgusted. He replied in cold fury, "I might be gay, Dad, but I'm also a human being." He stabbed his chest with his index finger. "I can still want children someday. Gay couples have children all the time now. Even you must have noticed that."
His father was at a loss for words. "Shit, Dad! Do I disappoint you that much? Even the meathead jocks don't say stuff like that about me."
"I didn't mean anything, Tristan. I was just being mindful of you being different and didn't want to make assumptions…"
"But that's exactly what you did. And I'm not 'different'-I want my parents to love me like everyone else."
"I do love you, Tristan."
"Your father does, Tris, really."
"I'll just have to accept that as being true, then. I don't see a lot of evidence to convince me, Dad."
"What, and with all I've done for you?"
"I didn't say you didn't provide generously for me."
"But you think I don't love you?"
"I think you find it hard to tell me and I think you and Mum are ashamed of me-ashamed of a gay son and a failed marriage."
Tristan's father looked pained. "I'm sorry for what I said, Tristan. I do love you and I'm very glad you've come to live here-even if you didn't have much of a choice in the matter. You could have gone home."
"Well, I don't have a home anymore, do I?"
"That's why I'm so glad about this house."
"It'll be your home, Tris," said Cylvah, warmly. "How is Colt?" she added, clearly wanting to ease the tension by changing the topic.
Tristan too was glad of the excuse to do so and went on to relate the story of Colton's new job with Dr Baddeley's clinic. His father and Cylvah were impressed and his father was even moved to suggest that he would always help Colton financially if the need arose. Tristan was a little shocked, but impressed at the same time and thanked his father, promising to bring the quarterback to Dallas in the near future.
The next morning Tristan and Cylvah went shopping. It was her suggestion to buy baby clothes to send to England. "Don't let it get to you, Tris. Make your mom feel that you love her, even if she has issues. You have a little sister now. She may be important to you one day, so start off with love."
Tristan admitted she was right and then enjoyed seeing how happy Cylvah was picking out cute little outfits in an expensive store, punctuating remarks with her irritating laugh, which Tristan tried to ignore. Colton's birthday was coming up and, over coffee at a place in Oak Lawn Avenue, they put their heads together to think of a present for the quarterback.
Thanks for reading. If you have any comments or questions I would love to hear from you. Just send them to h.h.hilliard@hotmail.com and please put Tristan in the subject line.