FSE

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Sometimes I pretend to live in the dorms. I know a couple classmates in the Shoeboxes (those dingy little buildings they shove all the freshmen and sophomores into), and the first time I heard about those communal showers, I had to give 'em a try. Hating them is a rite of passage every kid here has to go through, but for me, it was like finding a new toy.

Let's go back to last Saturday. All my clothes are in a little duffel by the sinks. I wash up and take to drying off--an excuse to get the towel off my waist and let it all hang out. I'm big, hanging a little over six when flaccid, and nobody expects that on a tiny raccoon twink.

My eyes play it straight, splitting focus between towel and blow-drier, but I'm alert in my periphery. A little freshman fox tries his hardest not to stare. A stallion rolls his eyes my way. An otter that's my short height but considerably more muscular is brave enough to outright stare, albeit it's at my reflection in the mirror. When the stallion washing his hands at the sink breaks off to leave us alone, the otter offers the mating call of curious college gays:

"Dude."

He's just finished up at the showers, so he's in nothing but a towel. What's more, he's holding his hands about six inches apart while he watches me, and at that point I grin, because I know I'm about to get my dick sucked. I mirror his stance and hold my hands the same distance, then slowly edge them farther until they're about nine inches spread.

"No way."

My response is an indifferent shrug, and I love watching his anxious indecisiveness: his stomach is in a knot, because he wants to get at my dick, but he's running the risk of hitting on a straight dude and either getting his jaw punched out or turning into That Kid. Another fox finishes up from the urinals and comes to wash his hands. His eyes do a double-take and he tries his best to play it cool and ignore me. Having an onlooker makes the otter squirm, and I can see there's a tent pitching beneath his towel.

I'm an expert at this game: I've played it far longer than I'd like to admit. Why? Maybe I like breaking the rules (I definitely like breaking the rules). Maybe I like the attention (I definitely like the attention). Maybe I'm a horny fucker who can never turn down the chance to get my dick wet. I mean, you'd be real close if you guessed any of those, and I guess close is good enough, right?

I still remember the first time I got cruised: I'd taken an impromptu bike ride to one of the local malls, and it wasn't 'til I was surrounded by strangers that I realized how revealing the lazy Saturday gym shorts I'd walked out in were, and that maybe I shoulda put on underwear underneath them. But I've never been good at doing what I *should*, and shit, it was exhilarating: a little thing like me is used to being invisible. I'm not a three-hundred pound bear you've gotta keep your eye on, or a six-foot-five musclebound wolf who draws the eye naturally. Seeing eyes on me, *feeling* them--even if it was just to check out the outline of my junk--was so novel that I spent a good ten minutes walking around and counting the number of people I saw staring.

I was fifteen--I know, I know, this was before I realized that was weird, but it was the first time anyone really paid attention to me.

It's weird to sneak into the public showers of a college dorm you don't live in, too, but: like I said, I'm not good at doing what I'm supposed to. I'm good at doing what I want, which is why when I break off from the mirror I gesture towards the otter with a finger. I've been leaving him waiting all this time, and he's so tense he looks like he's gonna burst, so when he sees me extend that little olive branch, a wave of relief washes over him and I fuckin' swear he moans. Like, full-stop, no joke.

He follows me into one of the larger shower stalls. I tug the curtain closed behind us and redirect the shower head so it sprays into the wall. He's down between my legs

when I turn the other way.

The otter's got a pretty healthy sexuality for someone who's probably eighteen or nineteen, which means he's got this wide-eyed, starstruck look on his face like he's never seen someone my size before and never will again. He leans his head in and squints at my junk while I get hard. "Holy shit, dude."

I'm not even that much of a top, but having my dick complimented is one quick way to get me in that headspace. Since the otter's whole personality at this point is 'wow dude your dick is huge,' he brings out the top in me real good. He tugs down his towel enough for me to scope out what he's packing, and it's a pretty respectable amount. I'd definitely sit on it, but right now, he wants something else.

It's not about what I want.

So I help him get it, because he doesn't have the balls to lean in and just suck it (seriously I don't see what's so fucking hard about sucking a dick, man): my dick drapes over his face, and he pauses to appreciate its weight before getting a hand on the root of my cock. His eyes close and he surrenders: a moan vibrates into my junk, drowned out by the water splattering against the wall, and his tongue drags along the underside of my balls.

I wonder if he's gay, or if he's one of those *straight* guys tempted by dicks bigger than his. His tongue drags up, continuing under my dick until he gets to my tip, and by then I'm almost fully hard. Both of his hands squeeze around my cock (with that cute wide-eyed face people make when they've never used two hands and had room to stroke before, you know what I mean--okay, maybe you don't, but *hit me up if you do, Christ I need more hung dudes in my life I'm tired of always being bigger*)--

Okay, sorry, I'm getting distracted thinking about cock. Can you blame me?

The otter definitely can't. He's muttering something about how big I am while he jerks me with both hands, then I feel him gripping me at the base and waving my dick around, smitten by the heft of it: it's purely about the size of my dick--and you know what? I'm fine with that, because otherwise I wouldn't be getting attention anyway (I'm only interesting when the pants come off or when I've got a dick in me). I moan out my appreciation and rest my back up against the wall.

Probably a *straight* guy, I'm guessing, because he doesn't know what he's doing; he just puts his mouth on it and jerks me at an awkward angle like he's never touched another dick before. He's stroking himself, too, and at least that's kinda cute. His ears make nice handlebars for me to grip and thrust into his mouth. He's surprised, but warms up to it fast.

You're a cocksucker now, boy. Just like me.

In my head, I always fantasize that someone else pushes into the shower, sees us, and lines up for his turn, too. I've jerked it thinking about a little circle of six people watching this show, maybe whipping out cell phone cameras to memorialize the moment (and post them to Twitter and get a thousand retweets). But the reality never quite lives up to the fantasy.

To supplement reality, I close my eyes and fantasize: I picture a crowd lining up to suck my dick. I picture a crowd lining up for me to suck their dicks. I picture a crowd lining up to fuck my ass (that'd never happen; this ain't porn).

He'll never make me cum on his own, so I bat his hand away from my cock and take over, squeezing firm. Aided by fantasies and the naughty gratification of fucking in public, it takes just a few minutes for me to fly over the edge. He pulls his mouth off as I do, and his ears cower submissively when I blow on his face.

He's got this cute surprised look that almost makes up for how mediocre his head was. He's surprised because, one, he's got some guy's cum on his face; and two, he's blowing his load right down the shower drain, while he's got some guy's cum on his face. I give him a little scratch between the ears and a big grin. It's an average Saturday for me, but he's gonna remember this day for the rest of his life.

"Wait," I hear him muttering as I push past him. "You wanna do this again?"

I leave him alone because there's no way he's gonna follow me outside the showers with cum on his face. I've got this rehearsed: a quick towel-off to stop the dripping, then I grab my bag and push out the door in my towel. I go right for the stairwell, climb two flights, then head to that floor's bathroom, where I can dry myself in peace.

My dick's hanging out, semi-hard and heavy. A big bear brushing his teeth in a towel takes notice this time. Probably an athlete, since he has a lot of bulk to his arms and chest despite his thick midsection.

"Dude," he mating-calls, staring between my legs. I came five minutes ago, but my dick throbs anew while he watches.

He's hot. I'd totally suck his dick.

I give my hips a little waggle so that my dick waves back and forth legs. His eyes follow it, and his hand creeps over between my legs in that empty dormitory bathroom.

Just your normal Saturday.