Unfortunately, though, I wasn't able to concentrate at all. I spent most of my time daydreaming about Sandy and cooking up schemes to abduct her from her school and take off for Mexico or parts unknown. I wrote long letters to her nearly every day and lived for hers to me. By the time the quarterly grades came out I was just barely squeaking through on C's and D's.
To complicate matters, my roommate had a crush on me. Not that it bothered me. I'd had crushes like that on other boys, too, before last summer and Sandy. And I liked Michael, could talk to him for hours on end. If I'd been in that bag, he'd have been the kind of guy I would go for. About two inches shorter than I was, with a lean, well-shaped body, he was extremely good-looking without being overly pretty or effeminate. His black hair was long and straight, his eyes dark; a smooth, fair complexion and heavy red lips.
I enjoyed his infatuation, it flattered me. If anything, I encouraged it by spending almost all my time with him, going to movies in town with him during our free time, showering with him and wrestling in the nude in his or my bed until he'd have to quit to hide his erection. He did this by lying on his belly, leaning on his elbows and sticking up his ass.
If I was susceptible at all to him, it was when he lay stretched out like that. Seeming to sense this, he seldom wore any clothes around the apartment and did his studying in that position. Several times he caught me eyeing his round, rosy buttocks and a gleam would come into his eye. I'd simply look away and go about my business. I never expected anything to come of my mild desire for him. I simply accepted it as natural, inevitable and harmless.
One day, though, it came to a head. I was in the shower, thinking of Sandy and wishing that my aching erection would go away. Michael came in. I turned away.
“Wait, Terry,” he said, placing his hands on my hips and turning me back toward him. Before I realized what was happening he had cupped my balls with one hand and was ardently licking my prick. I took two handfuls of his hair and started to push him away, but by then he had inserted it into his mouth, all the way to the back of his throat, and had begun to move along the length of it, tickling the tip with his tongue, grazing his teeth along it, sucking and licking demonishly.
I still held onto his hair, but instead of pushing him away I found myself pulling him towards me and into me. He worked fast and deliciously, and my dammed-up need was so great that within minutes I felt my seed rocketing into his mouth in shock after shock of pleasure. He hung on, drinking deeply of me, and when it was over I raised him by his armpits to his feet.
“That was good,” he said, smiling up at me. “Wasn't it?”
“I guess it was.”
“Can I kiss you?”
I considered this for a second. “Sure, why not?”
His tongue was soft and salty and when I broke away from him he said, “I love you, Terry.”
I pushed him slowly away from me by the shoulders. “Look, Michael, what we just did was fine with me, but don't bring love into it, will you? You'll just spoil it.”
He looked hurt. “I've got enough problems as it is,” I explained.
“But I love you,” he said.
“Well, if you do, you can show it by not talking about it or pestering me with it.”
I stepped out of the shower and into the bedroom. I was just getting into bed when Michael emerged. He dried himself and lay on his bed in his favorite position.
“What are all these big problems you've got?” he asked, offering me a cigarette and lighting them both.
“Oh, they're too complicated to go into now.”
“You never told me about them.”
“The main thing is, I'm in love with my sister.”
He looked incredulous.
“The old lady caught us in bed last summer and she's trying to break us up.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I don't know. We're getting together over Christmas and I guess we'll figure something out. By the way, can I have an invitation to your house for Christmas?”
“Sure, I'd really love to have you there. That'd be great.”
“No, I mean just an invitation. I need an address to give to my parents so I can meet Sandy.”
“Oh. Well sure, yeah, you can use my address.”
“Thanks.” I put out the cigarette. “Might as well go to sleep, I guess.” I shut off the light.
“Are you mad at me for what happened in the shower?” he said.
“No, why should I be?”
He paused and then said: “Terry, can I sleep with you tonight?”
I turned to him to tell him I didn't want to. Then I caught a glimpse of his ass in the dark, gleaming from the faint light off the quadrangle. I weakened.
“I don't want to get involved in something like that, Michael. We're such close friends, it might wind up getting all sticky.”
“It doesn't have to. We can just enjoy each other's bodies and still be friends.”
I knew this would be the case with me, but not with him. I needed somebody, though, and he was only three feet away. “Come on then.”
He got up, pulled back the covers on my bed and lay alongside me. We wrestled playfully and pawed each other for a while, kissing, and then I turned him over on his belly, rubbing my stiff penis in the furrow between his buttocks.
He reached in the drawer of the night table, pulled out a tube of vaseline and handed it to me. I squeezed some out onto my hand and greased my prick with it, applying the residue to his ass and wriggling a finger into his anus.
He spread his legs wide apart, arching up his ass as I lowered myself onto him. I entered him a little too forcefully, I guess, because he stiffened and o took in his breath sharply, constricting himself around me. I proceeded more slowly, withdrawing slightly whenever I felt him stiffen, until I had plunged myself all the way down into him. I lay there for a while, rocking gently, my arms around his chest, until he relaxed, and then began to move. He lay motionless at first and then started to pick up the rhythm, pushing his buttocks up into my thighs as I pounded into him, and pulling them away alternately.
As the climax approached I became more aggressive, and he started to buck under me like an unbroken colt, writhing and twisting his ass with utter abandon, to wring out the last drops of pounding pleasure from me.
I lay quietly on top of him for a while and then ' withdrew. He pulled over onto his side and I lay down on my back where he had been. I felt a warm pool of sperm on the sheet.
“You too?” I said.
“Yeah. It was terrific.”
“How did you do it?”
“You did it, just by being inside me. It got me so excited, and the rubbing. When I felt you come, I did too.”
“That's great,” I said.
“Was it as good as with a girl?”
“It was different. But it was good.” He rested his head on my chest. “Let's go to sleep,” I said.
In the weeks that followed we usually wound up sleeping together every night, but as Christmas approached I started to get more nervous, edgy, touchy, irritable and nasty, and tended to take out my tensions on Michael in somewhat sadistic ways.
I called Sandy several times a week. Our plans were hatched. She'd be staying with a friend in New York who understood that if her brother showed up in town she'd probably want to spend all her time with him.
We'd both notified Mother of our respective plans for the holidays, and took her silence as an indication that she didn't care a damn what we did as long as Sandy and I were a thousand miles apart.
Then I got a letter from her:
“Dear Terence,
The divorce is now final, and the settlement is in effect. As of today, you're in the custody of your father. Sandra will stay with me. Any plans you made for the holidays had better be checked out with him. You probably understand the reason why I stopped fighting for your custody.