Wrestling This Read Free Page A

disinterested in him, I had to laugh. Plus that damn swoop of hair over his eye turned me on and it helped to dismiss my attraction. He brushed the hair away, and I turned to Dylan.
    “What do you know, Chief?” Dylan said to Eric. “She’s not into pearl necklaces?”
    “I know what she likes. Trust me.” Apparently, he’d experienced her, like most of the other guys at FSU—except, apparently, for Dylan and me.
    I, too, added some pithy comment, learned from years of masquerading my true sexuality, about admiring her buxom physique—my chatter harmless, empty chest thumping.
    The rain returned, and Dyl continued on about his humping mounds of flesh. If the kid put half as much energy into his schoolwork rather than obsessing over boobs, I swear he’d be an A student. “Oh, man, and I’d take them,” he said, “and squeeze...”
    I tuned him out.
    Being a roomie with Dylan for over a year, I knew him well. The bouncing of his leg, the fidgeting he did around his exposed navel, were all signs that would often wind up with him saying, “Kid, I gotta go bust a nut,” and he’d leave for the bathroom.
    This time he didn’t.
    Like the rest of us, he had his singlet draped around at his waist, but unlike Eric and me, Dylan’s hand found its way to his crotch and he pressed his knees together, over and over, like trying to hold back a bad piss.
    With Eric lying beside me, I, too, tried to hold something back. My guard lowered. I couldn’t help it and I found my head leaning toward him.
    Dylan mumbled on.
    We hadn’t showered, and I could smell Eric’s sweat, surprisingly pleasant like maple syrup and black tea. I inched closer. What are you doing? While I’d smelled him before, it hadn’t turned me on. I hadn’t let it. “I can’t help it,” I mumbled.
    “Hmm?” Dylan asked.
    I kept silent, shook my head, and bounced my leg like Dylan. Anxiety reared. If I let myself give in to my lusts, I feared the world would know the truth. In an attempt to further conceal my true wants, I said to the group, “What about Jasmine?”
    “Fuuuck!” Dylan held his knees together tightly, his hand back between his legs.
    I knew Dyl had a thing for the Ragans Hall girl most of the straight guys lusted over.
    “Her tits are so fucking big.” I’d seen Dylan’s dick many times, for he flaunted the thing like a cowboy would a rope, but when I glanced over at him, it poked out, erect, from the waist of his singlet. I didn’t think he knew.
    “And she wears those,” Eric said, “tight pants.”
    I hardened. I couldn’t help it. I looked over at Eric and swore I saw him fondling himself, staring my way, but he stopped when my eyes met his.
    “Are you fucking touching yourself?” Dylan asked, innocuously.
    Eric turned his head toward me and furrowed his brow.
    I shrugged. “Dylan,” I said, chastising. “Of course not.”
    “You dudes are fucking rubbing your dicks?” Dylan said again. He arched his head to get a look at us.
    Eric threw up his hands. I copied but kept my knee up to cloak my hard-on. “No,” I said.
    “Let’s let off some steam,” Dylan said, “and bust one for Jasmine.”
    Nervously, I laughed. “You’re fucked.”
    The storm intensified and masked the plopping of water into the Chinese-water-torture bucket.
    “Eric?” Dylan asked.
    “Yeah, you’re fucked,” Eric said to Dylan but looked at me and smiled.
    Dylan flipped on his stomach, crawled closer to us, and quickly grabbed Eric’s calves. They tussled, laughing, till Dylan, the lighter of us three, somehow managed to top Eric and sat on his legs. Eric’s erection became obvious, and mine crimped into further expansion.
    “We’re all boned!” Dylan yelled, proudly. He grabbed my knee to try to expose my excitement but I held it fast. He lay back down. “Let’s bust one for Jasmine. First one to bust his nut gets ten bucks.”
    I licked my lips. My ball sac ached. “You guys horny?” I asked. A stupid question, but I