Steamy Dorm

by Kristine Robinson

  He suddenly felt a new energy surging through his body. Maybe all that he needed in his life was more sexual stimulation. Wasn't that how people dealt with boredom and disappointment by throwing themselves into exciting but ultimately meaningless sexual encounters?

  While at Berkeley he had played on Grindr a couple times. The first time they guy hadn’t shown up and the second time the guy who did show up turned out to be a scammer, a straight dude who set up rendezvous with gay men in order to rob them once they dropped their pants. Michael had narrowly escaped, running out of the park where he had foolishly agreed to meet the asshole, and flagging down a taxi.

  After that experience, he had deleted the app and had vowed to never to use it again. Or any other hook up service. There had to be a better way to find partners. Less dangerous ways. More satisfying ways.

  When Michael got back to his apartment after work, he walked straight to the kitchen and opened a bottle of wine. In his college days, he regularly drank a bottle of red wine, sometimes two throughout the day. Life without vino didn’t seem worth living. Without this sensual pleasure, he might have become truly dissatisfied with his life, so much so that he might have actually tried to make some changes, instead of complaining.

  French. Pinot Noir. He swirled the delicious nectar around the glass, eyes closed, inhaling and devouring the dark grape aroma. He brought the glass to his lips, tipped his head back, and moaned with pleasure as the liquid kissed his lips and rushed down his throat.

  Friday night. As usual, he would treat himself to David King’s, Sacramento’s finest Chinese delivery. And he wouldn’t order just any old dish, either. He wasn’t living on the streets anymore, play-acting as if he couldn’t return home at any moment and live a comfortable life. He was no longer pretending as if he didn’t come from a family of some privilege, nothing like some of his Berkeley classmates and friends, but still solidly middle class all the same.

  He ordered the Crispy whole fish. It was delicious, if not slightly freaky looking dish, which came with a sweet and spicy orange source. It was the kind of food that always got his mouth watering. Eating that whole, listening to the crispy crunch of its flesh, tasting it succulent flesh was damn near a sexual experience for him these days. He definitely needed to get out more.

  If he was still in San Francisco, there was no way that he would be holed up in an apartment alone, drinking and waiting on delivery Chinese. He would probably be heading over to a friend’s place or eagerly awaiting people to arrive at his. And he would spend the night talking, listening to music, drinking, smoking, kissing, cuddling, fucking. But since coming back home, he had slowly lost the desire to actually go out and interact, people, especially in an intimate or sexual way.

  These days he preferred to live out his sexual fantasies while sitting in front of his laptop screen. While watching porn, he could be anybody and play any role. He could sit in the comfort and safety of his own apartment while sipping wine, smoking pot, sniffing poppers. He didn’t anybody else to revel in those drug-induced experiences that left him floating on the clouds, tingling with excitement, and shooting huge loads.

  He packed his bowl and took a big hit, blowing out a huge cloud of smoke. He closed his eyes. It felt so damn good! He took another hit and put the bowl away. He was almost there. He just needed a couple more things and he would be ready to start playing. He reached into his sex draw and pulled out his set of three black cock rings. He only used the one that went around the shaft. It was the perfect fit for his fat cock. Not too tight. Not too lose. Perfect!

  He stroked his dick back and forth, getting the blood flowing through it, slowly waking it up. It was Friday night! It was time to play! Time to start shooting! He opened another drawer and pulled out that small, magical bottle. He twisted off the black cap and grinned as the intoxicating scent rushed towards him. Poppers. He had first started playing with them at Berkeley. Love at first whiff. While other people chose to waste their money on coke, he knew better. Poppers were much cheaper and definitely safer.

  He put the open bottle under his nostril and inhaled. One, two, three, four, five seconds. He did the same with the other nostril.

  Fuck!!!! What an awesome feeling! A tingly sensation flooded throughout his body. He took the bottle with him into the living room. That hit was only the beginning. He sat down at his laptop and quickly went back to his favorite porn site. There was a particular video that had been turning him on, making him blow big loads for the past few days. So hot, so raw, so nasty.

  Two guys, ripped studs, one of them covered in tattoos, the other one clean-shaven, clean-cut, and ink free. The tattooed guy had a huge, thick, veiny, juicy, delicious, back of the throat gag-me please, cock. A black cock ring wrapped around the base and the shaft ensured that it remained blood gorged through the act, while he moved his fist in and out of the gaping ass that his partner offered him.

  Michael often wondered how it would feel to have a hole that stretched out and gaping, a hole capable of taking, hungry for, a big cock and a fist at the same time. It was absolutely disgusting! Yet it was also incredibly exciting! So fucking exciting! Who would do a thing like that? Michael wondered, smiling, licking his lips, his eyes wild with lust.

  He stroked his cock back and forth. It had quickly filled and blood-stiffened. He picked up the opened bottle of poppers and raised it to his nose, taking bumps in both nostrils then putting it down within reach.

  AHHHHHHHHHH! He moaned. His entire body tingled. He tugged and tugged, harder and harder, eyes closed, lips gently parted. He continued to moan as the thick cock and the fist continued to move in and out of the hole. The hung stud pulled out. The hole gaped, expanding and contracting, stretched out, leaking, but hungry for more. Michael couldn’t figure out which role he would have enjoyed paying more. There were so much excitement and stimulation, endless pleasure on both ends. Top, Bottom, Switch. He loved it.

  The Top must have tired of fucking. His large, floppy cock swung between his legs. It was turning a sweet, purplish cover, the blood being restricted by the ring. He began punch fishing the hole. Every time he pulled out the fuck chute made a popping sound, as the stretched lips clung to his domineering fist.

  What a Bottom bitch! What a first Pig!

  Michael raised the bottle to his nostrils again, deeply inhaled. Left. Right. Left. Right. He put the bottle down.

  “FUCCCCKKK!” He yelled out as the nitrates flooded his body. Everything tingled. He was ready to be bent over and opened up, spit roasted by two hunks. That would have been incredible, mouth and ass penetrated, pounded and flooded with red hot fuck juice.

  “AHHHHHHHH!” He yelled.

  Cum began to shoot from his cock like a geyser, halfway across the room. He panted and sweated, still jerking as the last drips and drops of cum leaked from the head.

  Chapter 2

  Joel pulled his cruiser onto a side street and cut off the engine. His body was tense. He squeezed the steering wheel. He had to calm down. Had to control of himself. So many mixed emotions bubbled inside of him.

  He turned on the radio, flipped through a few stations—commercials, sports, pop.

  BREAKING NEWS! BREAKING NEWS!

  Joel held his breath. He should have changed the station. He should have turned off the radio, enjoyed the silence, the brief repose before the Friday night craziness broke out. He would be rushing in one direction to the next. That’s what he should have done. But he didn’t. He must have been a masochist. He must have loved putting himself through hell.

  BREAKING NEWS: “Good afternoon, Sacramento! This is Marc Gudjonsen reporting live from City Hall, where it has jus been announced that 7-year Officer of the SPD, Tony Giuliano has been fired and criminally charged for his role in the videotaped beating of a pedestrian.”

  Joel cut off the radio. He banged his fist several times against the steering wheel.

  “God damn!”

  This wasn't how the job was supposed to go. Being a cop. It's what he wa
nted to do all his life. It’s what his father and his grandfather had done. A long line of McConnell's had worked in law enforcement. He had followed that tradition. He loved putting on the uniform, loved walking around the city knowing that he was keeping people safe, knowing that his job, while not the most glamorous, was a very important one, indeed. That's what he had been taught to believe. Cops are good guys. They were to be respected and honored. And they if you wore the uniform you were supposed to do everything to uphold that image. That's what he had always been taught.

  But now, moving into his fifth year on the force, he was beginning to seriously doubt the truths of those lessons. It seemed like the more time he spent in the department, the more cracks he found in the edifice and flies in the milk. Were they really good guys? He couldn't help wondering, couldn't help doubting. One scandal after another, setting up drug dealers here, selling guns to gangs there, and now, the thing that had gotten that hot head Giuliano fired, beating the crap out of a guy in the middle of the street, while his dash cam recorded everything. What an idiot!

  Thankfully, not all the guys were like that—hotheads, doped up on steroids, frustrated, sadistic characters who enjoyed using their power for evil, knocking in an innocent person's head, standing over them, grinning, as the blood flowed from their busted up face. No, not all the guys were like that. But far too many were.

  He couldn't help wondering if things had changed since the days when his father and grandfather ran the streets. Maybe the world had become a meaner place. Maybe the cops had not choice but to become meaner as well. He couldn't be sure.

  But there was one thing that he was sure of. No matter how much corruption and brutality he saw, he knew better than to raise his voice. Inside his department, dissent was not tolerated. Absolutely none. If he started questioning how things were functioning, people would quickly unite against him, push him out, flush him down the drain. He'd seen it happen before to other cops who had the right instincts, who hadn’t yet into cynical, burned-out corpses of their former selves.

  Anytime someone tried to stand up and demand change, the knives came out, the long, sharp, bloodthirsty ones.

  He didn't want that fate. No way. Things will change, eventually, he told himself. He closed his eyes and sighed deeply. He was gonna have to suck it up. This was the job that he wanted, the one that he had fought and sacrificed for, the one that he had sworn his life to.

  What he needed to do was to focus. Push all the negative thoughts out of his mind. What he really wanted was more power in the department. Once he made detective all of his problems would be solved. He would make more money and he would have more interesting work. Until he made it to that position, he just needed to keep his head down and continue working.

  He checked the clock. 415. He still had another couple hours before he began his downtown, night patrol. He opened his laptop and quickly logged into Twitter.

  Much to his dismay, his timeline was flooded with news about the firing of his fellow officer.

  Joel didn't want to think about it anymore. It wasn’t all news on his timeline, though. There were also lots of explicit images. He followed a lot gay porn sites. Their tweets always managed to lift his mood and rejuvenated his energy. Of course, this wasn’t his work computer. He loved to sit in the car for hours, watching video after video, scrolling through numerous erotic pictures, not daring to reach into his pants, not daring to respond to the throbbing, large, veiny cock that pulsed between his legs. He would sit there breathing heavily, sweating, dripping with excitement, eyes half closed, mouth half open, excitement raging through him as he imagined when he would have his next homoerotic encounter. It had been too long. Far too long!

  Bottoms up. One of Sacramento's hottest gay bars. But he couldn't go there. He could only drive by, slowly, desire and loneliness in his eyes. He could only observe the local gay scene from afar. If he actually wanted to play, to put his inhibitions aside, no longer concerned with being spotted, recognized, ratted out, then he would have to go to another city, possibly even another state, Vegas being one of the ideal locations. Every few months or so, he would take the trip.

  Yet even when he as there, he didn’t feel one hundred percent comfortable. The stakes were so high. If the word got out, if people began whispering, his career would be over. He would be shunned, blacklisted. He would bring disgrace to the Mcconnell family.

  He was a lawman, raised by tough, hard, lawmen. He wasn’t some cock sucking faggot, a lover of men and muscle, tight asses and even tighter fuck holes. He spent hours dreaming about shoving his thick cock into pink, puckered ass pussy holes. That wasn’t him. No, it wasn't. It couldn't be. But he was sick of worrying about that anymore. He had spent enough time fighting with himself, trying to deny his true nature, trying to convince himself that someday, and someday soon, he would find a beautiful blonde wife with green eyes, thin legs, big tits and a hungry mouth.

  He wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off her. He wouldn’t be able to keep his big dick out of her. He would keep coming inside her and she would keep popping out children. The family would grow and grow. They would move from the city to the suburbs. They would have three cars, two dogs, a summer home in Pelican Bay.

  He would make Detectives. He would make it up higher than either his father or grandfather. That was the tradition. Each Generation went a little bit further, grew a little bit more ambitious, a little bit wealthier. That was how things were supposed to be.

  But his sexuality, his desire for the male form, his love of male flesh, of hard cocks and sweaty balls, ruined all that.

  Sometimes being in the department with all the other guys was the loneliest place in the world. He never felt like he could relax and just be himself. He was always on edge. Always forced to pretend. To laugh at the jokes about different women who came in and out of the building, especially the ones that loved humming in the bed, flat backing whores throwing their unholy legs in the air and opened themselves wide, dripping, dropping, hungry to feel daddy’s meat deep inside, big beefy cop meat, You can get it anyway you like, Italian sausage, Irish brisket, or maybe you want a Polish Kielbasa.

  It was like the guys kept a running tally amongst themselves, who get blown the most, who could dip their stick into the most feminine honey nectar within the hallowed walls of the sacred law enforcement institution. It was a both a source and pride and shame amongst the fellas. Not everyone had the charm, wit, or brute force to pull it off. And beyond that it seemed like the same few guys, renowned for the big, swinging dicks and brutish ways always seemed to find the most with legs in the air, pussies wide open cop groupie crowd.

  Joel was happy that the no-good, desperation reeking harlots kept away from him. But because they did, he never had any stories to tell about his sexual exploits with women. And recently he had noticed that some of the fellas had started looking at him funny whenever the subject of women—sluts, skanks, whores, bitches, cunts—as they were most affectionately referred to, came up.

  Had he been found out? Had the rumors already begun spreading?

  Another question troubled him as well, Was he the only one in the station? Or was it possible that there was, in fact, another who could understand his preferences? Yes, he suspected there was. Colin. They had graduated the academy together. But it hadn’t been until the last year or so that they had begun spending time together outside of work.

  Colin was tall and slim. Swimmer’s build. Very different from the typical bulky cop body that was all the rage. He kept himself in impeccable shape. He was also much better groomed than your typical cop. And there was something so calm and self-assured about the way he moved.

  Was Colin gay? Michael didn't know. Last week they had gone downtown to a straight bar. It was Colin’s idea and Joel was more than a little bit excited to spend time with him. But Joel’s enthusiasm cooled once they got to the bar and he noticed the way that Colin looked at the women. He seemed to be really turned on by them. Yet throughout the night Coli
n had been very touchy feely with Joel.

  When he got home that night from the bar, Joel twisted and turned in the bed. The image of Colin’s ruggedly handsome, lustily smiling face, kept him stiff and tingling with desire. He slipped a hand into his boxers, let his fingers dance around his balls, then down to his asshole, which was already wet, hungry to be penetrated, stretched, prostate massaged. He moved his fingers around the rim of the hole, then pushed one then the other inside. He closed his eyes and moaned, imagining that it was Colin pushing into him, slowly, gently, imagining how huge Colin’s cock would be, veins running up and down the shaft, circumcised with a big, purple head. It was probably a delicious piece of dick meat. It would feel so good to have him moving inside of him, deeper and deeper. He worked three, then four fingers in and out of his hole, gyrating his hips up and down on the bed, up and down, moving deeper and deeper, beginning to tickle his prostate.

  “AHHHHHH! COLIN!” Joel called out, imagining how sweaty their bodies would be, pumping, grunting, and grinding back and forth. His hole was wet and loose. He had no problem sliding his whole fist into his fuck chute. With the other hand, he stroked his cock. What an incredible feeling! If only there was something that he could put in his mouth—a cock pumping into and out, hitting the back of his throat, slowly gagging him and driving him wild with the joys of submission.

  He stroked and stroked and continued to move his fist in and out of his hole. He pulled the fingers out of his ass and brought them up to his nose. He closed his eyes and sniffed them. Delicious! He smiled. He loved that shitty, primal smell. It made his cock stiffen and fill with even more blood.