My Freshman Experience
by Joel Young
Chapter 6
Raised Suspicions
Adam dropped me off at Pilgrim Hall late Sunday afternoon. Our weekend at his family's cabin had been fantastic! There was a growing intimacy between us - both physically and emotionally. Five times, we had enjoyed giving and receiving sexual pleasure with one another. We were developing a close and affectionate bond. And, I was falling in love.
That was all well and good, but I had done no studying – at all – over the weekend. I knew I had to buckle down for the rest of the day. But when Mitch reminded me I had promised to have Sunday dinner with the guys, I put down my books and went to have hamburgers and fries with the group from our floor. By 7:30 that evening, I was back to my studies. I read until almost 1:00 a.m. just to be ready for the classes coming up in the next few days.
On Tuesday, I went to my Chemistry class, and I sat next to my lab partner. "Hey, Peter," I said. "How's life treating you?"
"No complaints," he said in an unconvincing tone of voice. "Besides, it wouldn't do any good to complain."
"Uh-oh. That doesn't sound good. Peter, you've really helped me out with Chemistry. Let me try to return the favor. Let's get something to eat after class," I suggested. "We can talk. I'm a good listener."
Peter smiled at me. "Sounds good," he said.
We went to the campus coffee shop after class. We talked about the upcoming Chemistry test on Thursday. Then, I changed the subject. "Okay, Peter," I said. "Something's bothering you. Maybe it would help to talk about it."
"It's really nothing I should get upset about," Peter said. "It's just typical dorm stuff, I guess. I should let it roll off my back and ignore it."
"There are lots of things that go on in the dorms that shouldn't happen," I said. "Drinking, drugs, theft, bullying - you name it. When my father dropped me off here, he told me that I shouldn't take crap from anybody. But, it's hard to know when to let stuff go and when to stand up for yourself. What's going on, Peter?"
"I'm just sick of all the ugly name-calling!" Peter said with a burst of anger. "It seems like no one around here has a sense of humor beyond labeling people with stupid and insulting nick-names. It's nothing but childish – and mean!"
"What are they calling you?" I asked.
"Nerd, because I'm a science major," Peter said. "Lurch, like from 'The Addam's Family,' because I'm 6 foot four." He hesitated before continuing. "I'm almost too embarrassed to tell you what they call me in the shower."
"Peter," I said. "I'm sure I've heard it all before, and I promise not to judge you."
"I'm kind of big and long down there," Peter explained. "So, they call me … 'The Torpedo.' Whenever someone calls me that, everyone turns around and stares. It's so embarrassing!"
Unfortunately, I found the nickname quite funny. But, I stopped myself from laughing. After all, I was trying to help Peter, not join in the teasing that was upsetting him.
"Peter," I said. "You're a fantastic guy. Don't allow some idiots to make you feel uncomfortable about yourself. What you said is exactly right. Some of those guys are just mean, and they're immature. They try to build themselves up by putting other people down. And get them in groups - all they do is compete to see who can come up with the most insulting nicknames for the guys they want to pick on. At least in my experience, their 'go to' topics are human anatomy and sex."
Peter nodded his head. "Have you ever gone through it?" he asked.
"Only in elementary school, junior high, high school and college," I answered. "I'm hoping that kind of stuff doesn't go on it the workplace - once we graduate and get jobs."
Peter smiled for the first time since we got to the coffee shop. "I wouldn't count on it," he said. "I had a summer job in a library. The women there were worse than some of the guys here at Oberlin!"
"Yeah," I agreed. "I guess it's just part of the 'ugly underbelly' of human nature."
Peter's smile evaporated as he asked me, "Have you ever been called … a fag?"
"Oh, yeah!" I said. "Just last week, a guy called me a sticky-fingered faggot."
Peter looked shocked. "Sheesh, and here I thought I had it bad. That really must have pissed you off."
"Well," I said. "I'm not sure which part bothered me more – sticky-fingered or faggot. But Peter, we're not alone. More often than not, guys call each other 'fags' as a general form of harassment. And, they make up embarrassing nicknames about each other's private anatomy all the time. It really doesn't mean a whole lot. Do you want to know what my first roommate and his friends called me after watching me change my clothes?"
Peter seemed to think about my question before answering. "Not that I have any particular interest in your private anatomy," he said in a teasing manner. "But, from a strictly sociological perspective, sure. Tell me what the guys call you. Your nickname can't be much worse than 'The Torpedo.' At least I hope not."
"Okay, you decide which is worse," I said. "I may not be worthy of being called 'The Torpedo,' but 'my boys' are pretty big. So, they called me 'To and Fro.' I hate that nickname!"
Peter looked puzzled, so I decided to give him a clue. "I'm told it's from a Boy Scout's camping song."
I could see that Peter was trying to figure out what my nickname meant. Then, when he finally figured it out, he giggled. He tried to hum the tune, but he kept interrupting himself with laughter. I gave him a dirty look.
"I'm sorry, Joel," he said. "But, it is a bit funny, don't you think?"
He stopped and thought for a moment before saying, "Well, maybe not. I suppose if it's about you, it just seems really mean. You don't deserve to be called names."
"Thank you," I said. "I only told you about it so you'd know you're not alone."
"I guess we make quite a pair – 'To and Fro' and 'The Torpedo.' Sounds like the name of a rock duo!" Peter said. Then, we started laughing together.
"So," I asked Peter. "Are you feeling any better?"
"Yeah," he said. "I just need to keep everything in perspective. And, I need to get out of Scott Hall. The guys there are just out of control. If you hear of anybody looking for a roommate, let me know."
Later that afternoon, I went to my religion class. Reverend McAllister lectured on Leviticus, and the abomination of "lying with mankind, as with womankind." It was unsettling to be reminded that I had sinned during my weekend with Adam. And, when I tried to justify my choices to myself, I remembered another verse from Leviticus. "He that justifieth the wicked, and he that condemneth the just, even they are both an abomination to the Lord."
I felt like the church had me coming and going. If I were gay, I was an abomination to the Lord. And if I even considered the possibility that being gay might not be such an awful, terrible sin, I was an abomination just for having such thoughts and questions.
As I left class, part of me felt guilty and ashamed. Another part of me, however, rejected those feelings. "How can something that feels so right be so wrong?" I wondered to myself. "Why would God make me like this and then hate me for it? What difference does it make who somebody loves?" It didn't make sense to me. I decided that I needed to read more about the Bible and homosexuality.
After dinner that night, Mitch and I were studying in our room when there was a knock on the door. I opened it to see Adam smiling back at me. I invited him in and introduced him to Mitch.
"I was heading over to the snack bar," Adam said. "Want to go with me?"
"Sure," I said. I thought I should invite Mitch, even though I wanted to be alone with Adam. Adam and I exchanged looks, and he nodded his head.
"Mitch," I said. "Take a break and come with us."
Mitch declined. "Too much work," he said. "But, thanks for asking."
Adam and I left and strolled toward the Student Center. "I really want to hold your hand," Adam said to me. "But, I suppose that would be too risky."
I was feeling a strong need to be alone with Adam – somewhere with privacy. "Can we go to your room?" I asked.
"The Resident Advisor is holding a floor meeting. We'd have no privacy," Adam said. "But, if you want to skip the snack bar, I know of a place."
"You lead; I'll follow," I assured Adam.
It was an autumn evening, and the leaves on the trees were starting to change color and fall to the ground. Adam led me to the empty tennis courts and a small, secluded knoll off to the side. I loved the sound of the crunching leaves as we walked across the grass. There was a nip in the air and the smell of apples that had fallen off a tree.
We sat down on the ground, and I realized that it was damp. "We're going to have big wet spots on our butts when we get up," I said.
"I don't care," Adam said. "I'm going to have a big wet spot on the front of my jeans if I can't be with you tonight."
Adam kissed me, and I became overwhelmed with sexual excitement and desire. I loved Adam, and being close to him out in the autumn night air was wonderful. We both lay down. Our kissing intensified, and our hands started exploring each other. Soon, we unzipped our jackets, unbuttoned our shirts and pulled our bodies tightly together. We made out like that until we couldn't hold off any longer. I unzipped his fly and ran my hand down and inside of his briefs. He shuddered when I touched his cock and began fondling it.
When I managed to release his cock from his underwear, I stroked him. Adam's eyes closed, and he moaned, "Joel, I really need this tonight."
His cock grew harder and harder as I massaged it. I continued to kiss him, enjoying every second of our sexual indulgence.
"Let's see if we can cum at the same time," Adam suggested with a twinkle in his eyes. He turned over and worked on getting my jeans open and pushed down. I was already hard when he freed my cock and took hold of it. I rolled over so that we were facing each other. We were breathing heavily and leaking pre-cum as we stroked each other. We looked into each other's eyes, and we started kissing again. I knew we were both getting close. Our kisses grew demanding, and our stroking became focused on its ultimate purpose.
"I'm almost there," Adam panted. "Are you?"
My body was trembling, and my cock was quickly giving in to the urge to explode. "Yeah," I said. "I'm right there with you."
We continued kissing and stroking each other. I knew I was moments away from the euphoria of orgasm – a mutual orgasm - with Adam. He gripped my cock firmly and moved his hand slowly up and down my shaft. I felt my climax building as I continued to caress Adam's cock. It was rigid, and he started to thrust his hips back and forth in sync with my hand movements. Our mouths separated. We pressed our faces together, side by side, and we came – at the same time – in an explosive frenzy!
As we recovered from our intense orgasms, Adam took a deep breath. He turned to look at me, and he was smiling sweetly. "I've never had this before, Joel," he said. "None of the guys I've ever been with cared about me as a person. They just used me to 'get off.' With you, it's totally different."
I hesitated to respond. Adam had told me it was too early to call what we have 'love.' But that was what I was feeling.
"Adam," I said. "I think it's different because of how we feel about each other. I care about you, and …"
I stopped. I was afraid to finish my sentence.
"And?" Adam asked.
"You think it's too early to say the words I want to use," I said hesitantly.
"Joel," Adam said. "Sometimes, I say things that are just plain stupid. You don't need to worry. It's okay to say whatever you feel like saying to me."
I knew that Adam had just given me permission to tell him that I loved him. And, I was pretty sure he would be okay with it. But of course, speaking the words would be risky. What if he didn't say them back to me? I thought for a long time about what I wanted to do.
"Adam," I finally said. "I think I'm falling in love with you."
I looked up at his face to gauge his reaction. He was smiling, and he pulled me into a tight hug. "Joel," he said. "I'm in love with you, too. I've never felt this way about anyone."
I was thrilled! I loved Adam, and he loved me! We continued our embrace, marveling at the joy of being close to each other and knowing that our feelings of love were mutual. It was wonderful to find such love and joy, as well as finding such sexual pleasure and gratification again.
When the embrace ended, we lay next to each other, holding hands and snuggling. Every once in a while, Adam would kiss me on the cheek or forehead. We stayed in the secluded spot behind the tennis courts for as long as we could. The autumn air and the damp ground finally became too uncomfortable for us, and we got up. We enjoyed one final kiss before emerging into the open, where we had to stop touching each other. We headed back toward my dorm.
Adam started singing to me quietly. I knew the Elvis Presley song that he chose. It was one of my favorites, I Can't Help Falling in Love with You.
"Wise men say only fools rush in,
But I can't help falling in love with you.
Shall I stay? Would it be a sin
If I can't help falling in love with you?
Like a river flows, surely to the sea,
Darling, so it goes.
Some things are meant to be.
Take my hand.
Take my whole life, too,
For I can't help falling in love with you."
I think that walk back to the dorm with Adam was the most romantic moment I had ever experienced in my eighteen years of life. Being physically close to Adam; still feeling the euphoria of orgasm; being high from the thrill of speaking of our love for each other, and listening to Adam's beautiful voice singing a love song to me – well, it was indescribable. I knew I'd never forget the joy and wonder of it all.
We snuck a few last kisses by the back entrance of Pilgrim Hall before we said goodnight
Mitch was still up when I got back to the room. I tried to act normally, despite my unbridled happiness. I don't think I did a very good job of covering up my elation, however. Mitch seemed puzzled when he looked at me, and it was obvious that he wondered what was going on. I told him I was exhausted, and I got ready for bed as quickly as I could.
I had a difficult time falling asleep that night. I kept thinking about Adam and how great it was to be in love again.
I got up a little late the next morning, and I went to the cafeteria for a quick breakfast before classes began. Tom, the guy who had the room right next to Mitch and me, was coming out of the cafeteria as I was going in.
Tom stopped me and asked, "Joel, did you hear what happened in the dorm last night?"
"No," I said. "What happened?"
"Somebody broke into a room on the third floor and ransacked it. They took everything of any value – a TV, a stereo, and some cash. The guys who live there searched inside and outside of the dorm. But they didn't find anything – except for two dudes making out behind the building!"
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