Pleasure Meeting You

If Jack had turned to Simon and asked his opinion on Nietzsche, Southern Baptism, dishes, masturbation, or Buddhism, it's pretty certain the conversation would have fallen flat and died. Not because Simon didn't have an informed opinion on those subjects. He actually would have had quite bit to say considering all of the reading he'd done in the nineteen years of his life, but there's no way he wouldn't have actually said any of it. He could barely manage to say, "Thanks" when Jack handed him a dropped pen, or "Yeah...sure" when Jack asked to look at his notes.

If Jack had chosen a more traditional post-class, packing-up-backpacks time conversational path and asked Simon what he had planned for the night, Simon would have looked down and mumbled, "Not much," before quickly escaping. Simon knew that most people didn't see re-reading Brighton Rock for the third time as a worthwhile way to spend a Friday night. Looking back later, it had worked out for the best that Jack had just quietly made the decision, "Simon's the guy" and let the rest fall into place with his obliviously cheerful confidence.

Although, what had fallen effortlessly into place as far as Jack was concerned took just a little bit longer to fit into Simon's view of How Friday Nights Work. On the specific Friday night that Simon fell irreversibly down the rabbit hole, he spent a good fifteen minutes struggling to figure out how exactly he had gone from lying on his bottom bunk eating peanut M&Ms and reading Graham Greene to entertaining a guy he barely knew, along with three of the guy's friends. To be accurate, he wasn't entertaining them as much as they were entertaining him. His host duties had started and stopped with saying, "Uh...hey, Jack," and then stepping aside as they filed past him.

Having only experienced dorm life for two weeks, and having never entertained (or- if he were brutally honest- actually had) friends before, Simon had no idea what to do next. He just stood awkwardly, agonizing over whether he should quickly clear the mess piles from the two desk chairs, offer his guests some of his never-home roommate's Fanta orange, or possibly offer them some baked goods from his mom's worn Tupperware. Finally he had to admit to himself that he couldn't even work up the nerve to make eye contact with any of the uncommonly good looking guys, let alone initiate any sort of social action.

Fortunately, all four of them quickly made themselves at home. Jack and a shorter guy with dark, curly hair sat down on Simon's unmade bed. The fraternity-looking guy scooped the mess off of Simon's roommate's chair before sprawling comfortably into it. The curly-haired blond guy flopped down on the floor, leaning against the wall and flipping through a mess of CD's and DVD's that were scattered around. Simon backed up into his own desk chair, choosing to just sit on top of the nest of quasi-clean clothes draped over it. He relaxed slightly when it became clear his guests intended to handle the small talk.

At first it was relatively easy. All Simon had to do was remain silent unless the steady current of chatter turned into a question direction at him, such as: "...so she had a huge plasma TV, and her snake had this...like...two-inch TV in his terrarium, tuned in to the same channel. You see that one, Simon?"

Easy. No, Simon had not seen that, or any, episode of Pimp My Ride. He shook his head to indicate this information then let the stream of conversation close back around his sinking pebble of contribution. Other than the occasional glance at his watch, or several even sneakier sidelong looks at Jack, Simon kept his eyes on a safe seeming spot on the worn dorm-room tile.

The absence of talk about girls, and the not-so-subtle looks he was picking up were encouraging. Possibly he had at least one interest in common with his surprise visitors. As the minutes ticked by and talk of Rock Band, classes, music, and miscellaneous guy stuff hummed happily through the room Simon nestled deeper into the nest of clothes on his chair. Maintaining his favored (and only) social strategy of Make Thinking Face and Nod, he tried to increase his comfort level by casually scanning the room and making a mental inventory of who was who.

Obviously, the tall, cheerful, blond closest to him was Jack from math class. Jack, the tall, amazingly good-looking guy who everybody liked after only one week of class, and who had popped by to see quiet, boring, Simon. For no reason. With friends. When it became clear that staring at Jack's feet was only increasing his anxiety, Simon slid his gaze slightly to Jack's right on the rumpled bunk.

Anthony was the one with dark, curly hair and the intense way of speaking, regardless of whether he was talking about eradicating social wrongs or his current number of achievements in Halo. That guy practically had a sign on his forehead saying in bright red block letters: FEAR ME, INTROVERTS...I PUSH BUTTONS FOR GRINS.

Introverted Simon cataloged his fear of intense Anthony, then quickly turned his attention to the frat-boy-looking guy in the chair directly across from him. Miles appeared to be even more silent than Simon, a trait which earned him a red flag only slightly smaller than Anthony's. Fellow introverts know that silence doesn't signal "shy and sweet" as often as it signals "quietly fucked in the head."

To complete his mental inventory, Simon looked down at the smallest guy, the one who sat on the floor, somehow looking comfortable sitting on a thin carpet remnant while leaning back against a cinder block wall. Between his curly-blond hair, eyes that were an even deeper blue than Jack's, and his calm air of contentment, he was the one guy in the room that didn't set off warning bells of any kind.

Simon nodded randomly and chanced another look at Jack's feet. For some reason the sight of Jack's kicked-off, worn sandals and the toes that lazily pulled them one direction then pushed them away made a goofy smile spread across Simon's face. As soon as he realized it he quickly resumed the thinking face, trying to tune in enough to see what kind of comment he'd just leered in response to.

The silence surprised him, and he looked up to find the visitors all looking at him, waiting for some kind of reaction. Reaction to what? His pulse quickened as he scrambled to remember the very last thing he'd heard. Had he been asked a question? His panic grew with the silence until, finally, he pieced together a vague question of his own, based on the main gist of what he'd heard.

"Uhhh...what?"

His relief over having asked a legitimate question faltered as he saw Anthony's eyebrows draw fiercely together.

Anthony ran his fingers through his short, dark curls and leaned forward, gripping the edges of the lower bunk. He fastened his dark gaze on Simon and explained, "Like Jack said, the four of us- Jack, Miles, Cory, and myself-made a pact last spring. A goal pact. Ever since then we support each other on our individual quests for self-improvement. One night out of each month is devoted to helping one of us reach our individual goal, which I actually thought Cory did a pretty good job of explaining already."

Simon took his cue and tried to look appropriately ashamed of his obtuseness. He made a mental vow to dust off his listen when people talk skills and glanced down to see if Cory looked annoyed with him as well. Apparently unconcerned by Simon's confusion, Cory's attention was absorbed in the back of a CD case.

Anthony cleared his throat impatiently until Simon's dark brown eyes once again met his own. "My goal is to become a high profile journalist and combat social, political, and economic evils. Towards that end I've chosen the path of celibacy, so one night a month..."

"Sometimes more!"

After giving Jack an acknowledging nod Anthony continued, "Yes, sometimes more...the four of us masturbate together."

Not for first time, Simon marvelled over how quickly his attempts at social interaction plummeted straight down to the mystical realm of What the Fuck. This time he couldn't even manage a nod.

After a visual check left Anthony dissatisfied with Simon's comprehension level he sighed and added, "I'm channeling my sexual energy towards achieving higher purposes. But everyone needs an occasional release, and I choose to take my release in a ritualized social context."

Simon knew next to nothing about casual social contexts, let alone ritualized social contexts. On the plus side, he'd learned from experience exactly what to do when fellow college students spewed abstract, pseudo-intellectual comments. He made the thinking face and nodded.

The conservative looking guy chose that moment to make his conversational debut. Still sprawled back in the absent roommate's chair, he dryly paraphrased, "In other words, a monthly group jerk-off will help Anthony achieve greatness."

Simon desperately wished he could force the words Care for some Fanta orange? out of his mouth before the inevitable confrontation erupted. There was no telling what Mr. Save the World With My Right Hand and Lotion would do when handed such sass, especially by a smirking guy wearing an Abercrombie & Fitch t-shirt. Simon had to admit the sass seemed well-deserved and it had been hard not to smile in the face of it...actually, the more he tried not to smile the harder his mouth fought to stretch into a wide grin. Fortunately, Simon's fears were put to rest during his losing struggle with forcing out a drink offer while wearing a serious expression.

Anthony's only reaction was a quick nod and sincere, "Succinctly put, Miles." Apparently he had interpreted the comment as a well-intentioned vernacular translation for the intellectually challenged newcomer.

Simon certainly felt intellectually challenged. He literally sighed in relief when the tree of awkward that had sprouted in his room didn't end up growing a branch of confrontation, but he still struggled to figure out what kind of reaction these guys were looking for from him, why they had come over at all, and when they might be planning on leaving. Jack was good-looking and all...very good looking, and he had a great smile and captivating way of expressing himself, and an unidentifiable smell of just...good smell stuff...and...and what in the hell was Simon thinking?

He nudged his thoughts back on track. Goals...group jerk-off...greatness... He couldn't help stealing a look at where Brighton Rock still lay on his pillow, bookmarked to his page with an ad card that fallen from the pages of History Magazine. Crawling back into his cozy fictional world would be so easy.

From the corner of his eye he noticed his four visitors shifting a bit in their spots. Ahhh, fucking hell. Once again they were waiting for him to do or say something, but he was as incapable of "doing or saying something" as he was of following their conversation or their logic. He wondered if this were another one of those insulated-from-the-world, only-child-who-moved-a-lot things. Possibly it was common in some social circles for groups of friends to pop by and tell a stranger all about how they masturbate together as a means towards achieving greatness and...social...justice, or something?

As though reading the confusion written across Simon's face, Jack frowned with concern. "Maybe I should have waited to invite you along...like, maybe on my night. Maybe going to department stores and researching place settings would have been a better ice breaker, but I really thought you'd enjoy this more." Jack's frown transformed into the smile that always derailed Simon's attempts to focus during math lectures.

His own wretchedly goofy smile snaked its way back across Simon's face before he could stop it. He forced himself to rewind Jack's speech in his mind and try to decode it. Jack thought he'd enjoy what exactly? Sitting around shooting the breeze? One problem with this particular breeze they were shooting was the interest stirring in Simon's shorts as result of having the word "masturbation" uttered in relation to and in the proximity of Jack. Especially a languidly lounging, smiling Jack. Simon had come to terms with the subject matter of his sheet-soiling dreams and the undeniably male source of his embarrassingly tented pants at inopportune times, but preferred to avoid the hassle of putting that interest into practice. And, wait...what? Research place settings? Weren't place settings dishes?

Miles answered Simon's silent question by asking one of his own. "How 'bout it, Simon? Which do you like better...beating off or looking at dishes?"

Feeling relatively sure that the intent of Miles's question was comedic rather than information seeking, Simon chose to volley it by asking the safest question of his own he could think of.

"Dishes?"

Jack maneuvered his upper body back out of the bunk bed cave to lean forward, dangerously close to Simon as he launched into an animated explanation.

"Yes...dishes! I'm designing my own line of ceramic dinnerware, with each piece having a Nietzsche quote with added profanity inscribed on the bottom. Not the bottom bottom," he hastened to clarify when Simon's dazed grin flipped back into a confused look. "I mean the part of the plate, bowl, cup or whatever that you see when you're done eating the food, or drinking the drink. Like...maaan that was a tasty Hot Pocket, but...what's this? 'Fear is the mother of morality, fucker.' You know...to wake people up. Make them think."

The idea definitely made Simon think. He wondered if pushing his chair back a few feet would help him understand this latest conversational curve ball. Having Jack so close was a bit like staring straight into the sun. After eleven seconds ticked by without Simon coming up with a way to scoot his chair back without being offensive he decided to blurt out the first question that popped into his mind. "Uh...Is that legal?"

He immediately regretted the question when Jack's smile slid from his face and he crammed himself back into the bunk bed cave, leaning back against the wall and looking troubled.

Simon remorsefully looked to the others for some confirmation that Jack's idea had some potential glitches. Miles's sigh of boredom and Cory's smiling shrug supported Simon's hunches regarding their personalities more than giving him any direction regarding the legality of profane, philosophical place settings.

Not surprisingly, Anthony had a much stronger reaction. He leaned forward in a manner similar to what Jack had just done, but Anthony's posture screamed "I love confrontation!" in contrast to Jack's body language of, "I am the most gorgeous guy ever, so good luck not getting an erection while I lean close to you and talk about my weird dishes idea."

Again, Simon had to fight the urge to move his chair back as he paid the price for his spirit-dampening question.

"Legal? Is it legal? I ask you this Simon... Is it legal to make citizens pay for health care? Is it legal to walk past homeless people and not empty out the contents of your middle-class, over-stuffed wallet? How about electing presidents that start wars? Are those things legal?"

Being a guy who did not love confrontation, Simon tried again to turn to Cory and then to Miles, desperate for guidance of any kind. Unfortunately those two had turned their attention exclusively to each other and- although Simon couldn't swear to it- appeared to be doing some kind of lovey/moony thing with their feet. Writing them off as potential allies, Simon took a chance and answered honestly.

"Well...yes. All of those things are legal."

Anthony frowned for a moment then quickly recovered. Leaning back a bit he muttered, "Well, they shouldn't be." His air of logical finality served to end that particular conversation as well as ease the worried frown from Jack's face.

Simon's uncharacteristic reaction to the mini-tirade unsettled him even more. Rather than his usual fight-or-flight reaction (or, more accurately, work-up-the-nerve-for-flight reaction), his main thought at that moment was relief that the cloud he'd put over Jack's sunnily bizarre plans had been dissipated. He actually felt a flash of gratitude towards Anthony for being the one to fix his social gaffe.

He couldn't put his finger on when exactly his anxiety over wishing they'd leave had morphed into anxiety over the thought of them actually getting up and leaving, but he found himself desperate for even a little bit of redemption in Jack's eyes. He took a deep breath, then plunged them all back into their version of small talk.

"So...goals, huh? You all have them, and help each other out? Okay, then. All right." He clapped his hands together and tried to grin.

He could see they were all thrown by his sudden burst of bonhomie, but he stubbornly wracked his brains for something additional to say. He was accustomed to falling flat on his face during small talk, but he felt a glimmer of hope that he might have some measure of success at weird small talk...and possibly keep Jack from regretting whatever spontaneous thought had prompted this visit. Wiping a small bead of sweat from his hairline he pressed forwards.

"Anthony's goal is masturb...I mean celibacy and social...helping."

He ignored Anthony's glare, and fumbled on. "Jack's goal is Nietzsche dishes with swear words on them..."

He was rewarded with another radiant Jack smile, wiping all thought from his mind and making it necessary to deflect attention again with another question.

"What about...um...Cory's goal?" He raised his eyebrows in what he hoped was a look of fascinated interest.

Amazingly...it worked! He basked in the feeling of renewed camaraderie that spread in the wake of his brilliant question. The historian in him fought the urge to get up and walk over to his calendar, circling the date in red pen, and naming the new holiday The Date of My First Social Move that Didn't Suck. If college worked out, this would be the first time in Simon's life that he'd live in the same place for longer than one year. Sure these guys were eccentric, but what other kind of- he dared to think the word- friends could Simon possibly make or be content with?

He stopped mentally congratulating himself and tuned back in as Miles spoke up.

Scooting one sandal-ed foot sideways to lightly connect again with Cory's bare toes Miles answered, "Cory's working towards incorporating the tenants of Buddhism with his Southern Baptist upbringing."

Simon blinked, but recovered much more quickly this time around. After Anthony and Jack's goals, Cory's sounded practically mundane. He ached to ask which set of moral codes advocated group masturbation, but after the is that legal debacle he retreated to the safety of one-word-repetition questioning.

"Incorporate?"

Cory's curls shook as he nodded vigorously. "Yes! Buddhism's compatible with other religious teachings, unlike what we in the west are used to." A worried look crossed his face as he added, "Although I have to admit that several of my free-time pursuits are a bit of a struggle to fit into the Baptist framework. So far I've been focusing on learning the basics of Buddhism, and just sending the Faith Baptist Church checks every week."

Simon nodded sagely. Finally someone had said something that made complete sense. His mother's relaxed approach to Catholicism had left him well-schooled on the cleansing power of the checkbook. His expression of worldly wisdom wavered as he saw Anthony look his way again, lean forward, and wrinkle his face into a look of focused concentration.

"You're a sophomore...like us, right?"

Simon nodded.

"Jack tells us you just transferred in this year?"

Simon nodded again, not quite having the chance to wonder how Jack knew that information before Anthony hit him with a third question.

"So...what's your goal, Simon?"

Simon's thirty-two seconds of partial ease evaporated. His goal? The question hung in the air with a sense of anticipatory impatience that made the words "What's your goal" even more intimidating that usual.

Simon's mind froze completely and he stared unhappily down at the ancient tile. Seconds ticked by until a thin current of thought thawed and began to slowly trickle with goals he was unable to honestly articulate to himself, let alone a group of virtual strangers...forgive myself, crawl out of the past, connect with living people...until he succeeded in damming that part of his conscious mind back up with practiced expertise.

He frantically flipped through his mental rolladex, searching for words to string together into a goal that would stand up to his not-yet-but-maybe...if he didn't fuck it up...friends' scrutiny.

Nothing. He had nothing.

Looking down and peeling some loose varnish from his chair, he shrugged.

The dry sarcasm Simon had come to expect was absent from Miles's voice as he asked, "What are you majoring in?"

At least this was a question Simon knew the answer to, even though he dreaded the inevitable, blank-stared, "What are you going to do with that?" response. Still looking down and picking at the loose varnish he mumbled, "History."

His four companions proved surprisingly eager to help him out. Rather than bury him in a pile of harassment over his dead-end choice of studies, the suggestions flowed.

From Jack came, "Be a writer! You can write historical fiction and..."

Anthony's voice quickly cut him off. "Forget that. Be an advocate! You can fight social evils, backing up your arguments with solid historical data..."

Miles's voice smoothly cut in, "You want to earn enough money to live? Think business. You can secure a position with a solid, reputable company and track historic trends, or get involved with stock analysis."

Simon blinked at them, trying to figure out how to inoffensively back away from the landmine called Planning For the Future when Cory spoke up.

"Maybe Simon's goal can be to live each day, as fully aware as possible, until his goal finds him."

Perfect. To Simon's ears his goal sounded reassuringly like do nothing and judging from the others' grins his new goal measured up. He sighed audibly with relief, leaning back and smiling. He was beginning to wonder why he ever felt uncomfortable around these guys.

"Well then..." Miles said, sliding off of his chair to join Cory on the floor. "Looks like we're finally ready to focus on Anthony's goal. After all...what are friends for?"

Whoa, whoa, WHOA! Focus on Anthony's goal? The jacking off for world peace goal? Simon learned the true meaning of the word uncomfortable as the kaleidoscope of his evening took another sudden twist. With the same casual ease they had entered Simon's dorm room, Cory and Miles reached for each others' zippers, Anthony slipped down to kneel on the floor a few feet away from them, and Jack reached for the button of his own shorts.

This was clearly enough of a flashing-red-light crises for Simon to force out another attempt at conversation. He was most definitely a lover of all things penis, but he couldn't fight the feeling that he was in over his head with the whole "Hi, nice to meet you, let's masturbate together" thing.

"Hey!" He tried not to stare as Jack's fingers nimbly undid his button. "If you want to google Buddha, or dishes..." He searched his memory for Miles's life goal, then made the fleeting realization that Miles was the only one who hadn't shared his.

When Jack's hand moved down to his zipper Simon quickly stammered, "Or...or...profanity, or Baptist stuff, or whatever- my roommate's home for the weekend and said I could use his computer."

Zippers went down. Shorts were kicked out of. It would seem that his roommate's Dell was no competition for the range of gloriously formed erections that sproinged forward in the suddenly-too-hot air of Simon's dorm room.

Cory let Miles reach over, unbutton, and slip off his thin cotton shirt before smiling in Simon's direction, appearing pleased with his new friend's thoughtful enthusiasm. "Thanks, but this is Anthony's night."

Jack stripped his worn t-shirt off, leaving him naked except for the small medallion hanging from a thin gold chain around his neck. He looked over at Simon, surprised to see him still fully dressed and sitting rigidly with an odd expression on his face. "Are we making you uncomfortable?"

Uncomfortable? Simon decided that the mixture of petrified and painfully aroused that he had progressed to feeling needed a much stronger label than "uncomfortable." He shook his head "no" and wondered how rude it was to openly stare at Jack's gorgeously swaying cock.

Actually, Jack didn't seem to mind at all. He stretched out to lie flat on his back, not noticing when Simon's copy of Brighton Rock slid off of the pillow and fell in the crack between the bed and the wall.

Simon's pulse raced and his shorts constricted painfully as Jack wet his palm, then lowered it...staring at Simon the entire time.

Simon's building need was so great and his panic so primitive, he feared that his heart might literally beat right through his ribcage. Although experience had proven this strategy ineffectual, he tore his gaze from Jack and tried one last time to look to Cory and Miles for help.

He regretted his decision to intrude on their privacy when he saw them, completely naked at this point, sitting several feet apart and slowly touching themselves. He felt a little bit better about the whole "intrusion of privacy" thing when he noticed Anthony hungrily watching them. Like Jack, Miles and Cory didn't seem to mind the attention. At all.

Not sure if he should look towards Jack again, go back to staring at the floor, find an excuse to leave the room, or..or some other clever thing he hadn't yet thought of, he stared mindlessly at the three busy guys on the floor until Miles noticed and looked up.

Looking Simon straight in the eye he smiled his first genuine smile of the evening. "Fear really is the mother of morality, fucker."

Jack laughed softly. "See? Those words make you think."

This time, Simon would have been forced to disagree, if he'd been capable of speaking. His mind had been wiped clean of all coherent thought. In the space of one evening, he had gone from being unable to make eye contact with any of them to being unable to stop staring at all four of them, letting his eyes wander from one to the next as they began openly pleasuring themselves. Up until this evening Simon had never even watched himself. He had always made sure he was almost fully dressed, lights off, eyes closed.

His confined erection was loving his new friends' logic and pleaded to be let out to play, or- at the very least- be released from the uncomfortable position where it currently was jammed.

Soft sounds began to fill the room... Quiet exhalations of Jack's, sounds of approval from deep in Anthony's throat, whispers of, "Yeahhh, Cory...Just like that..." from Miles, and the sounds of quickened breathing from Cory.

Simon closed his eyes and felt the arousal beginning to eclipse the outer edge of his fear. Unthinkingly he fumbled with the button and zipper of his own shorts, reaching down with no other purpose in mind than to adjust himself a bit less painfully.

Jack's voice lifted above the hum of sensual sounds. "Hey! I tuck to the left, too!"

Startled, Simon opened his eyes to find Jack watching him adjust. Blushing, he almost snatched his hand away, but his poor guy had been painfully contorted down the left side of his shorts for too long already. He found himself unable to resist watching Jack re-wet his palm as Simon rearranged himself, flushing deeper red with the realization that he was touching himself while watching a naked guy- a naked hot guy- touch himself, while also hearing the soft sounds of three other naked guys, and...

Oops...Simon's hand had decided all on its own to stuff itself further into the constricting boxers.

Somehow the palm of the independently acting hand ended up gently cupping his balls...God he loved starting that way. The sounds coming from Anthony, Cory, and Miles as well as the sight of naked Jack staring at him and stroking himself convinced Simon's hand to slide a little further up, running the pads of his middle and ring finger up his shaft. His gaze slipped up Jack's body to look at his face...flushed with arousal.

His frustration was maddening. Even if he could somehow work up the nerve to join in on...goal night...Simon was as unclear on how to meet the group masturbation goal as he was on how to be fully aware every day, or make swear word dishes, or be a Baptist Buddhist. What was the etiquette when taking care of your business with four males you barely knew? Were they in a rush, therefore requiring the get-it-done-fast method? Or would it be a source of shame to finish up before....possibly long before....everyone else? Should he get naked like everyone else? Should he stay on the chair? Was he supposed to...

Miles's voice cut into his racing thoughts. "Hey Jack, you got room for Simon on his own bed?"

Before Simon could begin to panic Jack scooted over on the bottom bunk and looked at Simon expectantly.

No. Way. No way. No way could Simon get up, walk across the room and lie down next to...

Simon wasn't sure if it was good news or bad news that his painfully hard cock had staged a successful coup and was now controlling his mind and body. There was no time to stop and figure it out, either, because he had to decide what the hell to do now that he was sitting awkwardly rigid with his shorts undone and a raging erection poking against his boxers, not sure how close to be to the gorgeous naked guy stretched out on his bed.

And again- Simon's dictator erection just didn't care. He hoped the panic he felt wasn't showing on his face as his need-crazed body kicked awkwardly out of his shorts, leaving him in t-shirt and boxers.

Jack turned to lie on his side, facing Simon, stroking himself a little more purposefully as he looked at Simon's tented boxers. Words started slipping from Jack's mouth, twining with the soft sounds coming from the three now behind Simon.

"S'okay, Simon. Nothing wrong with what we're doing. Same thing you do by yourself, right? Touching feels good. Watching feels good. It's okay....it's okay. Be aware, right? Be fully aware...wasn't that your goal? Feel that heavy, heavy cock begging to be touched. You feel that?"

Yes... Simon felt it. His hand was slipping inside of his boxers before Jack could finish speaking. Still sitting up and leaning back against the bed's wooden slats, he turned slightly to face Jack's body.

The whispers and touches of the three behind him faded into the background as Jack tilted his head to watch him, pleading, "Ah...please, Simon. Push the boxers down. It's okay. It feels right, right? We don't have to label this, or label ourselves...just have this moment with me. Please?"

The boxers had been kicked off before Simon could weigh the pluses and minuses of Jack's intoxicating suggestion. Feeling silly in just a t-shirt, Simon stripped that off as well. He threw the shirt to the floor and caught sight of Miles and Cory now on their knees, reaching to stroke each other while Anthony knelt behind Cory, watching over his shoulder. The realization that his new friends did this on a regular basis and had certain...appetites...washed over Simon, filling him with equal parts arousal and apprehension.

The feeling of being suddenly naked in every sense of the word washed over Simon, filling him with a paralyzing panic. His heart pounded and and he longed for the nerve to grab his clothes and...and what? And leave the most beautiful, strangely fascinating, and arousing guy he'd ever met in his life who just happened to be stretched out naked on his bed?

Hoping he hadn't misread the connection he'd sensed growing between them since the very first time Jack had walked through the door of their shared class, Simon swallowed hard and turned his attention back to the Jack on his bed. Unable to look him in the eye, Simon whispered, "I don't want to do this wrong."

The not-imagined connection warmed Jack's voice as he whispered back, "There is no wrong...Just do what feels good. Show me...touch yourself...show me what feels good."

The warmth of Jack's tone and the eroticism of his words teased Simon across the boundary line of his fears. No longer able to resist, Simon leaned back against the wooden slats at the head of the bed and wrapped his fingers around his aching erection, worried for a moment that would be enough to make him come right then and there. The thought that Jack was inches from him, watching him, made his need pulse through his entire body.

The sound of an unidentifiable someone panting heavily through what had to be orgasm behind him urged both Simon and Jack to stroke themselves just a little bit faster, then faster yet as more words spilled from Jack.

"Here....rub your first two fingers right here" Jack moved his own fingers right under the ridge of his shaft. "Yeahhh...I see you feel that."

Simon felt another annoying flush of red spreading across his face, but he couldn't have stopped even if he'd wanted to...and at this point, no part of him wanted to stop.

"That feel good? Yeah? Then that must be right. Ah, please, yes...touch yourself. Just like that... Just like that...ah...yeah...little faster, a little faster, ah, fuck- Simon, I can't...I'm going to...."

As the warm wet of Jack's completion pulsed onto Simon he felt his own, answering climax spiraling through him until he came with a violent suddenness that ripped through his entire body. He was too lost in the waves of pleasure coursing through him to feel embarrassed over the volume of his his cries, or the fact that the others were slowly crowding around him...Anthony at the foot of the bed, Miles and Cory on the floor by his side.

In the aftershocks of the most intense orgasm of his life, covered in the mixed cooling-hot stickiness of his own and a guy he technically barely knew, surrounded by a total of four naked, smiling, guys, Simon couldn't decide what to freak out about first.

When Cory began gently cleaning both Jack and himself off with a t-shirt he considered pointing out that it was one of his roommate's favorites, but he hated to interrupt Anthony and Miles's conversation about what movie they might go to see the following night. Besides, it was so much easier to just sit quietly and try to process what had just happened.

He was still in the Sit Frozen and Blink stage of the process when Jack crawled between him and Anthony, pressing a kiss on Simon's right knee on his way past. As suddenly as the four of them had arrived they were dressing...dressed...leaving!

Still naked and leaning back against the bunk-bed slats, Simon's thoughts had gotten as far as fuck, that felt good when Jack ducked back under the top bunk to kiss his right temple and smile sweetly, saying, "I'll call you tomorrow. Maybe we can hang out."

Simon managed to return the smile, and keep the smile on his face as Cory and Anthony said their goodbyes and followed Jack out the door. When Miles looked at him with a completely straight face and solemnly said, "It was a pleasure meeting you, Simon" he actually laughed out loud for the first time in...actually, he couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed out loud.

As the door shut behind Miles, Simon stretched out in the still-wet stickiness, still naked. He absently fished around for his lost book in the crack by the wall, but gave up after half a minute, choosing instead to just lie on his bed. He breathed in the scent of sweat and sex and maleness, listened to the dorm sounds of reverberating bass and shouts down the hallway, and looked around his room, imagining he could see the indentation of Jack on the bed, and of his other new friends on the carpet and on the now empty chair. Giddy with the implied decadence, he raised his left index finger to his mouth, giving in to the urge he'd been fighting since Jack had first gifted his body with tangible evidence of his arousal, and tasted.

Looking back, years later, Simon would pinpoint that moment as the first time since his early childhood he could honestly say he was fully aware. At the time, he was too busy grinning goofily over the words "Pleasure meeting you," looking forward to the next day's promised phone call, trying not to let the nagging thought, why me? cast a shadow over his night of goal-meeting, and drifting into a satiated, peaceful sleep.

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A/N: My original plan was to just post this first one on AFF (for kakashizgirl to have access to it until she can get back on y! ^_____^) but I'm so extremely surprised and grateful to see that other people have actually taken the time to read and give feedback. If the differences in format don't kill me dead x____x maybe I could put the continuations on AFF as well as y!gallery. Thank you so much to anyone who's taken the time to read this, and extra thanks to anyone who reviews and/or rates. I can't tell you how much I appreciate it. ^___________^