Doing College

His roommate, the team’s freshman first-string quarterback who everyone knew as Slick, entered the room, straight from the showers, just a towel around his waist. As his eyes went to Stud, Slick dropped his towel. He stood there for half a minute, his mouth agape; his tall, lithe; well-cut Nordic blond body trembling. Then he sank down on his rump beside Stud’s thigh, whispered. “Oh, God, Stud,” and reached for Stud’s cock.

Stud brushed his hand away and grabbed for, and managed to grasp, both of Slick’s wrists with his fists. Slick was strong, but he was no match for Stud. He had every reason to know that he wasn’t.

“Don’t tease me, Stud,” he whined.

“You can’t have it until you promise you’ll talk to Coach—that you’ll tell him that you want me on first string with you. We came here as a pair; he’ll believe that you need me as your primary receiver.”