My cock was aching. I hadn't been this close to another man physically in weeks, feeling him and his cool, soft, smooth skin on top of me. I tried to burn the memories into my brain, to beat off to later. He was so strong, so powerful, and so masculine. I could smell his armpits, and one time he had me facedown on the bed in a full nelson, his big heavy muscled arms wrapped through mine and behind my head, and he was lying on top of me. I could feel his hard dick on my ass, and I wondered where this would all lead ... This was great, but even so, it wasn't enough.

I wanted him, God help me. I wanted him inside of me. I wanted to take his cock in my mouth and make him moan and squirm with pleasure.

I was hot with desire.

After the fourth straight time he'd made me cry "uncle," I pushed away from him, sitting back on my pillows while trying to catch my breath. The physical exertion had sobered me up. He was breathing hard too, which I found hard to believe. I couldn't believe I had worn him out ... and I kept trying not to look at his hard-on, which was even more obvious than before.

"You done?" he panted.

"Well, yeah." I took a deep breath. "I'm fucking exhausted, man."

He held out his right hand for me to shake. "You're a tough little monkey, aren't you?"

"Huh?" I stared at him. He'd made mincemeat out of me. I hadn't been able to do a thing to him.

"Most guys won't even go a second round with me," he said, reaching for the tequila bottle.

"Yeah, well." There wasn't anything else to say. Maybe they didn't like having him on top of them the way I did.

He slid a hand inside of his underwear. "Man, I gotta get this off." He grinned at me. "I should make you suck me off."

Much as I wanted to do it, I knew I couldn't admit it to him. Not then. I backed up against the headboard. "No way."

"I could make you."

"Yeah, you probably could," I admitted, which made him laugh.

He grabbed a bottle of lotion off my dresser, and squirted some into his hands before handing it to me. "Come on, buddy, we'll just go ahead and beat off. Beat off buddies, okay?"

Beat off buddies? I shrugged. "Okay."

He slid his underwear down, and sat back on the bed. I gulped and slid my own down, squirting the Jergens onto my own dick. He patted the bed next to him. "Sit here by me."

Naked, I sat down next to him, our legs almost touching. He then took his right leg and placed it over mine. He closed his eyes and started stroking his dick. I sat, stroking myself, watching him, my eyes wandering over his body, wondering how his nipples would taste in my mouth, wondering what his dick would taste like, what it would feel like to ...

And before I knew it, I came.

He opened his eyes and grinned at me. "You wanna help me out here, bud?"

I nodded.

"Suck on my nipples. That drives me crazy."

I leaned over and took his right nipple into my mouth. I felt his entire body stiffen as I began to suck on it, tease it with my tongue.

"Bite it," he commanded.

I did.

"Harder than that!"

I bit down hard.

He moaned and his entire body went rigid. "Ah, ah, AAAHHHHH!!!" He exploded, and I felt some of it get on my back.

I let go of his nipple and moved away from him.

"Nice job, buddy." He gave me a lazy grin. He grabbed my towel off the floor and wiped himself dry. "I knew I'd have a good time with you."

I didn't say anything. I didn't know what to say. I sat there, naked, my come drying on me, as he got dressed. Once he'd finished tying his shoes, he walked over and leaned into me, and planted a deep kiss on my mouth.

"Till next time, buddy," he whispered, and then walked out of the room.

I sat there for a few minutes, staring at the door, and then reached for my bong.

Next time?

I smiled and took a hit. I heard the door at the foot of the steps slam. I picked up the framed picture. He'd left me some coke, and I took the dollar bill and snorted another line. I wiped up some of the debris and rubbed it on my gums. I took another bong hit, then got back into the bed and thought about what had just happened.

Kenny Frame was the last guy in the house I would have ever expected to have-well, it really wasn't sex, after all. How would you describe it? Wrestling between two brothers-jacking off together afterwards, and sucking on his nipples? And being kissed good-bye? I didn't understand any of it, none of it made any sense to me.

In one semester as a brother of Beta Kappa, I'd had some kind of sexual experience with six brothers out of eighty actives. I was in love with my big brother-we had sex together every chance we could grab. I'd had wrestling experiences with Chris and Eric together, and then again with Kenny. All three of them had acted like they would be more than happy to do it again as well. I'd fucked Marc Kearney and blown Rory Armagh.

Out of all of them, Rory was the only one who acted like it never happened.

Surely, there was more of this going on in the house than what I knew about. Blair had intimated on more than one occasion there was a lot of it. What had he said, back last summer?

"Straight boys don't care who get them off when they're fucked up. All they care about is shooting a load, and it doesn't matter whose mouth or hole it's in. If they think about it all when they sober it, they blame the booze or whatever because they're certainly not gay. "

Maybe I was being a little too oversensitive. Maybe I was just stoned or still a little drunk or coked up. But it didn't seem right. Why did Blair and I have to keep what we had a secret from the rest of the Brotherhood?

I thought back to some of the lessons we were taught throughout the pledge semester. A brother never lies to another brother

But every day, Blair and I lied to everyone about who we were. Not to the extreme that Chris and Eric did, or even Marc. Blair and I never tried to get in the pants of girls in front of the other brothers, never tried to prove over and over again that we were so masculine, so straight, that no one would ever suspect we actually were in love with each other, or would rather be with a guy than whatever drunk girl was handy at the moment.

Something was wrong with this picture.

Everything Beta Kappa stood for-its ideals, its creed, and so forth-none of it had anything to do with sexuality. It was all about a moral code-of loyalty to the house, of honesty and integrity, of being a good student and a contributing member of society.

Being in love with Blair did not make any of those things less possible for me. If anything, it had bound me tighter to the Brotherhood.

I took another bong hit, and grabbed my notebook and a pen.

I started writing.

Chapter 11

I slid my cock out of Chad Revere's ass and squinted over at the director. I couldn't really see him (or was it her? I wasn't really sure) because the sun was directly behind where the others were gathered.

"Can you hand me a cigarette?" Chad asked, rolling over onto his back. Chad wasn't his real name, but I couldn't remember what that was either. I'd met so many people with two names I couldn't keep track of what was real and what wasn't anymore. He was very sexy, with a chiseled, tanned body that was almost completely hairless except for the neatly trimmed pubic hair around his floppy cock. His hair was bleached blond at the tips but dark underneath, and his face was young and innocent looking. His voice was high-pitched and world weary, though, and he spoke with a bit of a lisp. He'd told me before we started the scene that this was his fifteenth video shoot in less than six months. "Dancing and escorting is where the money really is," he'd told me, chain smoking one Marlboro Light after another while we waited for them to set up the scene. "This your first time?"