Freshman Year

By Alex Exley

Ryan wasn’t gay. At least, he knew he liked girls. So what was with that attraction, that unfamiliar urge within him, whenever he saw his new college roommate changing or toweling off after a shower? He doesn't understand it, but after a night out drinking and a massage exchange that may or may not have crossed the line, he’s going to have to confront it one way or another.

Jeff, Ryan’s new roommate, is a freshman like him, though he’s four years older, having served in the Army before starting college. He sees things in Ryan that Ryan doesn’t see himself. And he knows how to gradually bring those things out. How to make Ryan his boy.

Word count: 18,500

Contains explicit adult content and descriptions. Not intended for persons under age 18.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alex Exley
• Release date: Jul 26, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476227870

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Freshman Year

by Alex Exley

Copyright © 2012 Alex Exley and Humburger Publishing.

Smashwords edition.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Names, characters, places, and events are the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Also available by Alex Exley: Coach & Other Stories, a collection of three stories about gay newbies discovering the pleasures of other men.

Feel free to contact the author at [e-mail] with any comments or questions. And ratings and reviews are always appreciated.

Freshman Year

Jeff stood with his back to the door jamb, half in our dorm room, half in the hallway. He took a swig of his beer and craned his neck, surveying the goings-on far down the hall.

I wish I’d gone straight to college, he said.

A girl ran by and shrieked as she almost bumped into him. Oh, hey, sorry! she yelled as she tore down the hallway.

He lifted his beer as if raising a drink for a toast. Hey. No problem. He shook his head, the girl already out of earshot, shouting to someone else now. It was early Saturday evening and the rambunctious atmosphere of a drunken college dormitory was starting to kick into gear.

I feel so old, he said. Seriously, I’m an old man here.

Jeff was 22. He’d enrolled in the Army after high school, primarily a financial decision, he told me, to help pay for college. He served four years before starting college and was now, like me, a freshman. Though I was a fresh-faced 18 straight from high school.

I was sitting on my bed, my back to the wall, a book in my lap. "You don’t seem that old," I said.

"That old. Jee, thanks Ryan. I don’t seem that old. He chuckled. Everyone my age is looking forward to graduating, starting a new job. And I’m just getting started. Oh well. Fuck it. He stepped into the room and grabbed his towel. Maybe I’ll go out tonight, try to do something. That girl down the hall, Mikayla or whatever her name is, the ditzy blond chick, she said something about a party at some house close by. I don’t know. I’m taking a shower."

I nodded and looked back at my book. Jeff was right. At that age, four years was a significant difference. I was in junior high when he graduated high school. An awkward high schooler when he was learning the tools and tactics of modern warfare. At first I was disappointed that I’d been paired with someone that much older. It seemed like an obstacle to meeting new people my age. But he was a laid back and pleasant guy, easy to get along with. As I would come to learn with other roommates in the years ahead, it could be a lot worse. Plus, living with Jeff would open up a whole new world, a part of me I’d never imagined.

Jeff returned 20 minutes later with the towel wrapped around his waist, his clothes bunched up in his arm. That’s one thing I love about this place—endless showers.

You didn’t have that in the Army?

Man, we had to have it down to a science—shampoo already in your hair, scrub, then soap here, here, here, he mimicked the soaping action, so you had time to rinse all in under two minutes. He stuffed his dirty clothes into a laundry bag and sat on the couch we’d appropriated from the lounge, a hard utilitarian piece of furniture with a natural oak frame and rough green fabric. He slouched down, his towel opening to show his thigh. And that was when you were at base and could even take a shower. Sometimes out on maneuvers you’d go days without one. He shook his shoulders as if brushing away the grimy memory. I don’t know what I was thinking when I signed up.

Jeff was just under 6’, dark Italian skin, moderately hairy. He was rugged but not ripped, a rounded edge to his features, with a small beer belly. The towel had slid off his leg so it barely draped over his crotch, leaving his whole leg visible. I noticed it, the soft thin hair on his inner thigh only inches from him private parts, and felt my stomach jump. My throat caught as I spoke. Would you…do it again, if you knew, you know, going in, what it was like?

He took a deep breath. I’d like to think I would. I mean, it was tough, I know I bitch about it. I hated the lack of freedom. When I was there I just wanted to be done with it. But it was good for me too. It was a challenge. It definitely made me grow up fast. I’ll get a lot more out of school now than if I hadn’t gone. I would have fit right in with these knuckleheads if I’d come straight from high school. Right on cue a deep voice down the hall bellowed drunken inanities followed by a barrage