"If you shake it more than three times it's masturbating, you know."

“Can you blame me?” I asked in response, giving my engorged but not-quite-erect dick a few strokes of my hand. "You saw me slow dancing with Monica!"  

There we were, Jim and me, standing next to the woods on the edge of campus, stroking our own woods after having just finished up a pee. 

We were walking back to the dorm from the toga party at the campus gym.  Twenty minutes earlier, we'd both been dancing with women we were hot after, Monica and Jane respectively.  Monica was a friendly, fun-loving type, easy to talk to. Fairly petite and thin, with long permed brown hair.  And the breasts under her toga had sure felt nice pressed up against me during the slow dance.

Unfortunately, after the slow dance the party was over and the lights came back on. Monica and Jane both rejoined their groups of friends to go back to the dorm, leaving Jim and me high and dry -- and hard.  Thank goodness the old-fashioned mercury lights of the gym took forever to return to brightness: we made a quick exit so the tent poles lifting both our togas wouldn't be too obvious.

On the way back, Jim and I talked about how close we might have come to getting lucky.  For my part, I had only been with one woman, ever, and certainly was anxious to be with one again. It had now been over a year since Laura, my first true love, and I had broken up as we went off to college.  

Despite the confidence that my sexually adventurous relationship with Laura should have imbued in me, Freshman year had been a total loss in the love department.  Now in my second year, I was hoping that my losing streak with women might finally end tonight, with Monica.  But it hadn't.

The only thing that saved me from total loss in the sex department last year had been when my roommate's friend Eric accidentally discovered me trying to suck myself in my dorm room. He admitted he did the same, and I soon learned his extra-long cock meant he got more out of it than I did.  I ended up convincing him we should suck each other, but he got post-orgasm regret and it ended poorly. 

So I wasn't feeling too confident about guys either.

Anyway, having each had a couple of beers before the dance, as Jim and I walked our conversation flowed freely about what we'd like to do with these women. In the darkness I thought could see a pointed bulge in the front of his toga.  Clearly he wasn't wearing underwear either.

Which got me thinking about how if I couldn't have pussy tonight, I'd certainly settle for dick.  This thought, combined with the memory of Monica pressed up against me earlier, had created a flagpole under my toga too.  Not that I was confident of actually trying anything. 

When we paused at the edge of the woods to relieve ourselves, without the constraint of underwear it was just lift and leak.  Well, actually it took us a few seconds to get the flow going in our engorged conditions. 

Naturally I snuck a peek or two at Jim’s equipment - which was easier for me to do than it should have been. Two guys peeing outside will ordinarily face a little bit away from each other, so as not to see each other's hardware too easily.  So I was surprised to see Jim facing more towards me than you'd normally expect, his stream hitting the ground in the same spot as mine and his erect unit very visible even in the dim light.  

He was also standing close enough that I could almost reach out and touch his bare, swollen cock as he relieved himself..

Maybe I shook myself off a little too much after I was done, prompting the comment about "it's masturbating if you stroke it more than three times."

“Can ya blame me?” I replied, giving my now slightly softened dick a few strokes of my hand. "You saw me slow dancing with Monica!"  

"Haha, I'm feeling the same thing after dancing with Jane."  He started actually stroking his own tool. 

"Looks to me like what you’re feeling is your dick."

"Yeah, but in my mind someone else is feeling it."

"Jane's?"

He shrugged, saying, "Any hand will do," while looking me in the eye. Then he stepped closer and reached for my dong.

"When in Rome,” I stuttered, reaching back for his member.  

"I think you mean Athens," he said (presumably referring to our stereotypically Greek outfits) and leaning in to me.

He tilted his head up (he was a few inches shorter than me) and started kissing me.  Call me naive, but I hadn't seen that coming.

I'd hardely ever thought about kissing a man. It had only occurred to me in the sweet, blissful moment after cumming with another guy, and that itself had only happened to me five times before.

My same-sex fantasies had always, overwhelmingly, focused on the warm, throbbing, spurting cock.  I wasn't much interested in thei rest of their bodies, or any kind of romantic involvement, or certainly kissing them. The idea still seemed to me so … well, effeminate.  It just hasn't seemed sexy to me.  And certainly (unlike blowjobs) not very manly. 

But Jim's kiss was certainly NOT effeminate, as I had imagined. No, it was powerful, and sexy, and interesting ... and so very masculine. Feeling his rough face against mine, his tongue probing urgently and insistently into my mouth like a flexible little cock, dueling with my tongue, was not even the slightest bit feminine or tender. Not at all.

It was more like his tongue was injecting pure testosterone into my willing mouth. Kissing like this was raw, intense, primal, powerful ... dirty.  Decadent.  Above all: manly.  So different from kissing a woman. I might have wanted Monica desperately moments ago, but now I wanted Jim.

Jim broke the kiss and said, "Let's go finish this inside before Security catches us."

When we got to his room, he started kissing me again, then lifted my toga over my head.  He dropped to my knees and took me in his mouth, wasting no time.

And it felt like only ten seconds of ecstasy before I exploded into his mouth.  He stood up and we kissed again - me with the affection of returning a lovely blowjob, him still with the insistency of an anxious man. 

I was anxious for this too, though.  I pulled the toga over his head so we were both naked, and he fell back on the bed - which, in his tiny dorm room was conveniently right next to the door.  I crawled in after him and took his penis in my mouth for a few minutes.  It was a nice cock, by the way, with a lovely flared crown.  Of course most of them are, as I would eventually learn, but the taste and feel of a dick in my mouth was still a fascinating novelty for me.

I’d gotten hard again, so I motioned for him to lay down on the bed facing me so we could do a side-by-side 69, probably my all-time favorite position with a guy.  We enjoyed the mutual pleasure for a few minutes.  

Then I held and squeezed his balls, which had been dangling in front of my face.  That sent him over the edge, and I felt them tighten in my hand as he filled my mouth with a delicious dose of his white syrup.  

Fortunately he kept sucking, and before long I was feeding him a second helping of cream.

We flipped around and kissed again, holding each other.  Whereas our earlier kiss had more insistent and powerful than kissing a woman, this was now tender, if scratchy and still not quite like a woman.  But it felt almost as nice just to share physical affection with someone, having not done it in so long.

"Sorry I'm not Monica," he murmured.

"Sorry I'm not, Jane," I replied.

"Good enough, though," he giggled.

"No complaints here," I said quietly.

After a few minutes of gently making out, Jim was soon hard again, and I started stroking him. He responded by moaning and kissing back harder, which quickly brought back my own erection. We kept kissing, jerking each other, for a number of minutes, our lips locked together as we spurted small loads onto each other's hands. 

I licked his last few drops of cum off his belly and gave his cock one last loving lick before getting up to go. 

I had to admit to myself, this was almost as nice as going home with Monica might have been: kissing, affection, bodies pressed together, sex.  I still would have traded Jim for Monica, but as the song says, sometimes you get what you need. 

As I slipped my toga back on to go back to my room, he wrapped his arms around me, put our now sore lips together for one last deep, semen-infused kiss and said, "Thanks for a nice end to the night. Jane."

"Same to you. Monica."