10 May '12

Good Smut Event Day Three: Sexy Excerpt from College Boys by Daisy Harris (NSFW) and Giveaway

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Chris blinked open his eyes, wondering for a second what had woken him up. But then a creak of bedsprings carried through the wall from Peter’s room. The music was on, too. Nothing loud—just the kind of quiet trance music Peter played at night that acted more like white noise than anything else.

He was just about to open his mouth to say “hi” when he heard a low and guttural male groan. Chris’s entire body tensed—all the way from his toes, over the tip of his cock, to where his nipples rubbed against his frayed flannel sheets. He’d been sleeping on his stomach, and he feared rolling over and letting Peter and whatever guy he’d brought home realize Chris was awake.

Another moan carried through the wall, followed by a growled, “Yeah. Fuck, yeah.” Chris couldn’t tell if it was the same guy who’d moaned or if it was Peter talking. He’d never heard Peter sound like that—rough and low and horny. But Chris supposed that was what Peter might sound like if he was…
Chris’s mind went blank. Getting fucked in the ass? Fucking someone in the ass? His brain had no images to connect to those concepts, though he’d heard guys snicker about it behind their hands.

A quiet moan and the words “suck it” carried through the wall, followed by a rapid-fire squeaking like Peter’s bed was bouncing off its hinges. Chris bit his lip to stop from moaning himself. His dick was a steel pipe trapped between his belly and the mattress. He fed his hand down, conscious of the whisper of his knuckles through his sheets. When he palmed his erection, he pressed hard enough to see stars.

The groans from Peter’s room rose, getting more desperate, but they were slow and languorous. It didn’t match the near-constant jerking noise of Peter’s bed, so it was hard for Chris to picture exactly what was going on. He’d only had sex a couple times, but it seemed that the moans usually matched tempo with the thrusting.

Another noise, louder and more breathless, carried from the other room, and this time it was unmistakably Peter. Oh God. Was he with two guys? Chris wanted the wall to become see-through. He wanted to peek through Peter’s keyhole and see every last detail, every openmouthed moan and twitching muscle. He wanted to watch Peter’s eyes screw up in pleasure and see how his body bowed when he was about to come.

He strained his hips into his hand, struggling to keep the bed from shaking, the springs from rattling. The constant squeak-squeak-squeakof Peter’s bed was loud enough that Chris thought maybe he could risk moving. He pressed his cock through his cupped fist, so slowly his eyes rolled back in his head. Holding his breath, he pulled back, but the loss of pressure was enough to squeeze his nuts in a vise, and he speared into that palm again, not caring when the frame beneath him groaned.

“Fuck.” He couldn’t resist another pump. Just one more and he might be able to come. Tucking his hips up off the mattress, he propped up on his elbow. Then, when a gasp from next door was so loud and desperate that Chris thought he might pass out from not shooting, Chris pumped his cock through his hand so fast that his bed let out a long squeal. But Chris didn’t care because he was thrusting hot and fast into that tight grip, and he imagined Peter shaking below him. Next door, Peter’s bed was bouncing to the jerk of his hips and it was so good Chris felt blind with the pleasure.

His balls twisted close to his body, sending spears of heat up his back. Chris arched into his fist and felt his cock pulse right before he shot, wet and sloppy, onto his sheets. He froze and held his body off the bed. Chris listened hard for whether Peter or one of his friends had heard, but the room next door had gone curiously quiet.

Chris panted, trying to slow his breathing. There was no way he could pretend to be asleep any longer. He couldn’t get out of bed without the men next door hearing, and no matter how embarrassed he was, Chris wasn’t going to sleep in a puddle of cum.

In a decisive move, Chris bounded up off the bed. He made more noise than necessary opening his door to go to the bathroom. Then he made sure to be extra loud as he laid his spare towel over the wet spot on his sheets. He’d have to wash them the next day, since he only had one set.

By the time Chris lay on his back staring at the dark ceiling, the music in Peter’s room had gotten louder. There weren’t any sex noises anymore, and Chris felt a little bad for interrupting. But more than that, he felt annoyed. He wanted to talk to Peter. Not about what had just happened—hell, Chris wasn’t even sure what had just happened. But at the end of most days, he and Peter joked around and unloaded before they fell asleep. It occurred to Chris that neither Peter nor he had brought anyone home or spent the night in anyone else’s room since he’d moved into the dorm.

He hoped Peter wasn’t going to make a habit out of bringing guys home, because Chris didn’t want to lose those nighttime talks.

He rolled onto his side and glared at the wall, trying to picture what hot, buff, gay guy had managed to get into Peter’s pants. He hoped that the guy wasn’t an asshole. Chris would have to kick the guy’s ass if that was the case.

Chris waited for the sound of a door opening. He wanted to know the second the guy or guys left. He’d be able to talk to Peter afterwards, and Chris couldn’t imagine that Peter’s hookup was planning to spend the entire night.

But as the minutes crept forward, Chris was forced to consider that maybe Peter’s lover was sleeping over. He’d have to see the guy in the hall in the morning and pretend he didn’t care. Chris was surprised to find how annoyed he was that this nameless, faceless stranger might get to have Peter in the dark hours at night and might steal Peter away.

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