Within just a few days, Chuck and I had become amazingly close friends. Our interests were similar, and we even had an Organic Chemistry class together, and had opted for the same lab as well. We weren’t lab partners, but Chuck’s lab station was only one row away, and I could easily look through the shelving and watch his progress. His lab partner was a real dork. It was kind of a bad sign, when the first day in the lab, the dork pulled the lab drawer all the way out and it crashed to the floor, along with several hundred dollars worth of glass beakers, flasks etc. This guy was nice, but what a klutz! It didn’t end there. If the lab experiment was supposed to have an orange precipitate, theirs was brown. Chuck was beside himself, joking that he really needed two lab aprons—one for his front, and one on his back, just in case he exposed his backside. Fortunately for Chuck, the guy wasn’t a born chemist in theory either, and after bombing on his first test, he withdrew from the course. This made Chuck the odd man out in the lab, but the instructor resolved this by making one lab partnership a threesome. Rick and I volunteered and Chuck joined our team. This set the stage for an easygoing and highly beneficial laboratory experience. Rick just had a great talent for coming up with all the right numbers, etc on just about everything his hands touched. Chuck and I were cruising through the lab periods, and the three of us were always finished ahead of the others, thus usually lopping off 45 minutes to sometimes over an hour from this 5 hour lab period, with the added bonus of great lab grades! This found the three of us going for coffee, or an early dinner. In addition, we’d usually spend at least one night studying our Chemistry together. This started at the university library, but we soon found ourselves gathering at Chuck and my dorm room. It seems Rick’s roommate was really into heavy rock and didn’t believe in headphones. The three of us found ourselves usually spending more and more spare time together, all three of us, or a variation of two, depending on classes, schedules, etc. Well, I’m getting ahead of myself. Back to the early dorm meetings with Chuck. As I said, within just a few days, Chuck and I had grown amazingly close. Initially, we’d not gone through the ‘where ya from’ stuff. Don’t really know, it just hadn’t come up initially. We had known each other over a week, when I’d come back to the dorm room for my class notes for my afternoon classes. Chuck had gotten the mail and had thrown mine (junk mail) on my desk. As I glanced at it, I found a letter of his mixed in with my stuff. I saw postmark was from the same home zipcode as mine! Wholly shit! After I ate an early dinner at the union, I returned to find Chuck sitting in his boxer type swim shorts—his regular uniform of the evening. I couldn’t resist bringing up the letter and asked him where home was. It turned out he lived less than a mile from my parents’ house. I hadn’t made specific note of the street address, but when he described the house and the cottage in the back, coupled with the fact that he’d been in Europe with his parents for the summer, the color must have drained from my face! I sat down and just didn’t say anything. Chuck continued on, saying his father was a State Senator and was bucking for Lieutenant Governor, and that they’d moved to the capital a little over a year ago. He’d been away at school, and had only been to the new diggings for a couple of weeks before they all went to Europe. Early on, he’d been promised the cottage as his own place for the summer, but his dad had rented it out to some guy, out from under him. Chuck and expressed his indignation and had registered an all too late protest, but it was a done deal by the time he’d found out about the rental. Anyway, the house was huge and he’d have the third floor bedroom, which encompassed the full length of the house, all to himself. Chuck had wanted to remain at home during the summer and get the lay of the land, so to speak; but this Europe junket came up rather suddenly and he’d barely had time to get a passport. Clearly, he’d had a great time during the summer. Better he’d figured than if it had been spent at home. I still hadn’t said anything. Jesus! Apparently Chuck hadn’t laid eyes on David, or at least he didn’t make mention of it! My mind was spinning, and trying to absorb this absolute flukiest chain of events. Should I, or better yet, how would I go about telling him about David? Surely, it wouldn’t be long before David would call, or present himself at my—our—doorstep again! I convinced myself quickly that hell, David was a construction worker, built like a brick shit house, and no way he looked like a gay guy. Even if Chuck had met him, there was no way—just no way… By this time, Chuck realized that he’d been doing all the talking. He asked me just where my parents lived and I told him. He thought this to be quite a coincidence—but he didn’t know the half of it. I recounted my family’s history and the years I’d spent growing up in the neighborhood, etc, old friends, tennis buddies, etc (funny story about Jamie’s poor sportsmanship and quirks), but all the while I was weighing the wisdom of telling him about David. I’d mentioned David amongst the group of guys I’d known for most of my life. I decided I’d might as well put the right spin on everything, on a ‘need to know’ basis. “Chuck, you’re never going to believe this, but David, the one of my friends that went to the Catholic Boys Academy? Well, I think he’s the guy who rented your cottage. I looked him up while I was home for the summer, and his father told me he’d moved into his own apartment. I got in touch with him and I checked out his place. It’s a small world!” Chuck just laughed and shook his head in disbelief. I told him David was a really nice guy and I’d known him ever since we were probably 10 years old or so and had played together throughout grade and junior high school, but since he’d gone to the academy, we’d kind of drifted apart—even to the point of rooting for opposing football teams, etc. I’d looked him up for ‘old time’s sake’ and we’d actually had some good times during the course of the summer. David hadn’t gone to college, but like his father, had become a construction worker. I didn’t elaborate on David’s physical shape (careful, careful !) but just said that the construction job had made him quite a man—just like his father. Chuck didn’t make any indication that he knew anything about the guy who’d rented the cottage, but said that at least he was glad that it was somebody that he’d probably get to know and most likely enjoy. Boy, talk about words with a double meaning !!! My inner self was chuckling and deliciously decadent senarios were presenting themselves. Yeah, Chuckie, I’d like to see you enjoy David! Boy, could we have a good time if you were, well…into some of the same shit. God! If you only knew the half of it! I caught myself looking down at Chuck’s boxer type swim shorts, my mind apparently on some type of autopilot. I looked up and realized Chuck had caught me staring a little too long. Our eyes met, his darted away. I thought I covered myself pretty good by shaking my head briefly, as if I was coming out of a trance. I had satisfied myself that he’d bought it. I broke the silence, got up and announced that I’d had too much iced tea at dinner and had to redistribute the filtrate (chemistry pun). Chuck got up and said that sounded like a plan to him too. We walked to the communal toilets and I headed for the urinals. To my surprise and partial discomfort, Chuck saddled up right next to me. My cock was tingling and I was sure it was partially hard--probably a combination of talking about David, and looking at Chuck. Anyway, I was slow out of the starting gate, and couldn’t readily get the stream going. Chuck whipped his out and was pissing up a storm in no time. I caught my first glimpse of his cock. Pretty nice one, didn’t appear to be as big as David’s in a flaccid state, but respectable. ‘Maybe he’s a grower and not a show’er’ I thought. I saw Chuck looking at me. “What’s a matter? I thought you said you had to go! Pee shy?” I just nervously laughed, and said, “Maybe it’s stuck in neutral”. Chuck let out a bellow and at the same time I began to let go. I mean I really let go. The sound of the stream of piss pounding against the porcelain was clearly audible for anyone with in a 10 foot earshot. Chuck remarked something to the effect that, ‘okay, I believe you’ and made reference to his apron joke! We both laughed and as I reached up to hit the handle, I quipped that at least I wouldn’t pull the urinal off the wall. We headed back to the dorm room after washing up and lay on our respective beds and Chuck proceeded to tell me about his growing up years. Jesus our respective lives had more shit in common that I’d ever thought possible. I was wondering if that might conveniently extend to…shall we call it….sexual identity or preference? That would probably be too much to ask, and I wasn’t about ready to spill the beans just yet—I liked this guy and valued his new friendship—why screw it up with sex. Shit—English double meaning again. Hell yes, I’d love to ‘screw things up’ ! We were getting ready to hit the sack as we each had an 8 AM class when the phone rang just before curfew. It was David. The conversation was short. I told him I now had a roommate, a guy named Chuck. What I didn’t tell him was where he lived or any other boring details. There was a pause on the other end of the phone, then David spoke, “Hey, I was planning on driving up there this weekend, that still okay?” Wholly shit, as the world turns…okay it’s going to be sooner than later…”Is it okay? David repeated himself. “Yeah…sure” I managed to get out, then catching the lack of enthusiasm in my voice, I added in an upbeat but forced tone, “Yeah, that’ll be great. We can hang and you’ll get to meet Chuck too.” David didn’t say anything else, just a quick promise that he see me sometime late Friday night and he was going to hit the sack. I hung up the phone and looked at Chuck. “That was your friend David?” “Yeah, he’s driving up for the weekend. He’s a good friend. I’m sure you’ll enjoy meeting him. I’m sure he won’t mind pulling up the floor,” “Sounds like we’ll have a full dance card, then.” Chuck quipped as he smiled. Man, if you only could dance to the music we could play! My thoughts were three days ahead of us. To be continued…
