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We walked the rest of the way trying to figure out what drinking games we were going to play. By the time we reached the dorms, we settled on Ring of Fire before splitting off in separate directions. I took the stairs up to the third floor. Gary and Fred were in the hallway, both of them carrying a bag of wax each. They were brothers who owned an online candle store and were constantly making candles in their dorm. It was a cool business, and I had talked to them for hours about it one day, but the biggest perk of having candle makers on our floor was the fact that it never smelled like feet and sweaty balls in the hallways.
I walked past my neighbor’s door, glancing toward it. For a second, I let myself wonder what he was going in there. Was he watching TV and eating pizza? Was he studying for a big test? Was he naked and jerking off into a sock?
Was he naked and jerking off into a sock while thinking about me bending him over and fucking him senseless?
Or, maybe he wasn’t jerking off. Maybe he was hanging out, naked, reading a book, sitting on the couch, ready for me to come in and fuck him senseless.
So many possibilities. I knew his name was Dusty Gold—I’d talked to him briefly before, but that was about all I knew about the skinny guy with big glasses and a captivating smile. I always tried catching him in the halls whenever I spotted him, but it always felt a little like I was cornering a scared baby animal, so we never really talked as much as I’d like to.
But damn was he really attractive, and fuck did he make me want to do things to him. All kinds of things. I wanted to get him so hot that his glasses would fog up and melt off his face. I wanted to turn him inside out, make him shout louder than he’s ever even spoken before.
And all this from a few random bumps in the hallway.
I always had a thing for the quiet, nerdier kind of guys. The ones that needed a little extra coaxing out of their shells. Dusty fit that bill perfectly.
Maybe I can invite him tonight?
I figured a knock on his door later wouldn’t hurt.
But, for now, I wanted to get inside, strip down naked, and lounge on the lumpy couch until it was time to put clothes on again. So what if I spent the rest of my afternoon playing with my dick and imagining Dusty between my legs?
The work-out had been hard, I earned it.
My dorm wasn’t very big, especially for a six-foot-three rugby player who couldn’t even lie down on the bed without his feet dangling off the end. The kitchen was tiny and required some interesting maneuvers, and the living room was barely big enough to be call a closet, but it did fit a gray couch that had the indent of my ass on it already, so that was fine.
I sat down on my mark, only able to kick off my shoes before my body gave out. I didn’t even get naked, even though the idea of Dusty crawling toward the couch while licking his lips gave me a semi.
I rubbed myself over my gym shorts before I stretched my legs wide and then outward. It was a good stretch. I pushed my legs open a little wider and followed them down to the floor, taking in a deep breath, stretching my back and shoulders in the process as I dipped down, toward the floor.
My entire body felt like a lump of clay after being bashed around by a group of art students. Every muscle hurt. Every joint cracked.
I rolled my head, pops sounding off in my neck. Another deep breath and I fell back onto the couch. I kicked my feet up onto the coffee table and pulled my phone from my gym shorts, not even bothering with the remote for the television. Music drifted through the paper-thin walls that divided me from my DJ neighbor, who apparently needed to practice his sets every single evening even though they never got any better.
Ten thousand hours or something like that.
I exited out of the page of endless memes and went to YouTube, where I lined up my playlist of rugby videos and sat back, ready to mindlessly binge on gameplay. It may have seemed a little crazy to some, watching rugby after practicing it for five hours, but it got the time ticking by and that’s really all I cared about. Besides, I always felt like I could learn a thing or two just from watching the pros playing.
It was around the seventh video that things went to hell in a elephant-sized hand basket. At first, I thought someone had burnt their dinner. It wouldn’t be the first time a college student manages to burn mac and cheese. I didn’t stress about the smell too much.
