One Shots

Male Sorting

Male Sorting
HairyJacques, literotica.com

In college I earned free room and board by working the front desk of my dorm. It was an easy job that consisted of answering the phone, buzzing in visitors, and using the master key when residents got locked out of their rooms. Since I usually worked the afternoon shift, I also sorted the mail. Mostly I just occupied myself by reading for class.

The dorm was a high-rise with eight floors and about 400 residents. A lot of people moved off campus after their freshman year, but I decided to stay. The opportunity to live for free was a big part of it, but I also liked the dorm's location and amenities, which included an attached cafeteria, a fitness center and weight room, and even a swimming pool. For an extra fee single rooms were available - a freebie for Resident Advisers and desk staff.

But what I liked most of all were the residents. The building was loaded with hot guys. ROTC cadets were required to live there. They were hot and fit and looked great in their uniforms. The wrestling team also had to live there since it was close to their practice facility and because their coach feared the distractions of off-campus apartments. Those guys, no matter what weight class, were total studs. Another big constituency was fraternity guys. The dorm was pretty much surrounded by frat houses, few of which had enough rooms for all the brothers, so we were the next best option. Add it all up, and the dorm was about two-thirds male. There was never any shortage of eye candy.

While I could look, I couldn't really touch. It was the early '90s. I wasn't "out." Being gay seemed to guarantee pariah status. For the most part I played it straight.

My only real release was porn, and before the internet, you had to acquire porn the old fashioned way. Every once in a while I'd summon the courage to go to the video store the next town over. They had an adult section that included some gay videos, so when I was really horny I'd rent a couple of movies and bring them back to my single room. Only once did I go to the local newsstand. I grabbed copies of Playgirl as well as gay magazines such as Inches and Mandate. When the old dude behind the counter handed me my change, he said "Have a fairy nice day." I was mortified.

That didn't stop me from enjoying the magazines back in my room, edging myself toward an epic orgasm as I paged through the photos and read the erotic stories. I came into my cupped hand and then sampled my cum. I had to admit, I really liked the taste and texture. Even the distinctive smell of it-just a little bit like bleach-turned me on.

While I lacked the guts to subscribe to Playgirl or (better yet) Inches, Mandate, Honcho, or Freshmen, the fact that I frequently ended up sorting my dorm's mail gave me the confidence to settle on a middle course. I signed up to receive the International Male and Undergear catalogs and I subscribed to a fitness magazine called "Exercise: For Men Only." All three had photos of hot, nearly-nude guys, and not a single one of the three was explicitly gay. (I have to say that over time it dawned on me that all were at least implicitly aimed at gay guys. Not many straight guys wore the sort of revealing underwear for sale in those catalogs-and none of them would want to see what it revealed about the muscular, well-endowed models. I'm pretty sure even the exercise magazine was targeted at gay dudes. The emphasis was less on the exercises and more on the photos of shirtless guys exercising. All these studs were really ripped and also really attractive.) The fact that these publications weren't overtly gay, plus the fact that I nearly always sorted the mail and deposited it in the residents' mailboxes, gave me the confidence to subscribe. I'd have no problem flying under the radar.

Or so I thought.

One September afternoon during my sophomore year, the mailman arrived really late-about 15 minutes before the end of my afternoon shift. I knew that my Undergear and International Male catalogs were set to arrive any day, so I started digging through the bag of mail, starting first with magazines and catalogs, which I quickly inserted into the dorm's residents' mailboxes. When finally I found my International Male catalog, I checked to see that no one was looking and stuffed it into my backpack. Glancing at the clock, I started to claw through the bag of mail looking for my copy of Undergear. My shift would be up soon! Just as I grabbed it and spun around to reach for my backpack, I saw Rich Spangler, the guy scheduled for the next shift, getting settled at the front desk. I saw his eyes dart down to the cover of my catalog, then glance back up to meet my startled stare. As I stuffed the R-rated semi-porn into my bag, he smiled. "Looks like your relief has arrived," he said.