Freshman: Fall Semester - Volume One

f r e s h m a n

Fall Semester

Volume One

Michael

S.

Booker

Copyright © 2011-2015 by Michael S. Booker

Cover image and design by Michael S. Booker

All rights reserved. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, in any form or by any other means, without the written permission of the author.

Ebook edition

other titles by michael s. booker

The Shadow Series

Shadow

Anomaly

Echo

Whisper

Lullaby

NSFW

Not Safe for Work

Busy with Work

part one

the end of summer

1

brandon

As usual, Chris was late.

Chris told me that he would be at my house, by nine-thirty, in the evening. Now, it was almost ten-thirty. Most people were only late by a couple minutes, maybe fifteen at the most. Chris was typically late, by at least an hour. Part of the reason why he was so late, I believed, was because he really didn’t want to go to the party, in the first place. This was his roundabout way of showing me that.

I grabbed my cell phone, from my computer desk and called him. It took him three rings to answer.

B, I’m almost there, Chris said. His sexy, deep voice always had a way of making me feel horny, even when I felt annoyed with him.

You told me the same thing, twenty minutes ago. Where the hell are you?

I’m on the freeway. Two exits away from your house.

Please hurry up, Chris. I don’t want to be even later to this thing than we already are.

Stop trippin’, B. I’ll be there. Chris hung up before I could get the last word in.

I put my cell phone in my pocket and looked at myself in the full-length mirror that hung on my closet door. I was dressed in a short-sleeved, black, military-styled shirt that fit snugly on my chest and arms. I wore a pair of dark blue jeans that fit tightly on my legs and ass. I felt sure when Chris got here, he would make some type of comment on how my jeans are so tight, that he was surprised that I still had nuts. But I didn’t care what he said. I liked them.

For a few minutes, I checked myself out, in the mirror. Not to be conceited or anything, but I considered myself to be cute. I would never call myself sexy or hot or anything like that, but I was good-looking. I was five-foot-ten and about a hundred and fifty-pounds. I had just graduated high school, a few months before, and I was ten pounds lighter back then. I’d always had a long, lean body, with my legs and my butt being my best features, but Chris had been encouraging (well, more like nearly forcing) me to work out more. As a result, my arms have become bigger and more chiseled, my abdominal muscles were more defined, and everything from the waist down had become more developed and enhanced. I was actually more pleased with the way that I looked now, at this point in my life, more so than I have been, in my whole eighteen years of living.

As I waited for Chris, I started thinking about how the rest of the night would go. A couple of weeks ago, I got a text message from an old classmate and friend—well, I guess he could be considered a friend, since we don’t really hang out or talk that much—Jason Coleman, inviting me to his end of the summer party, at his house. I’d been reluctant to go, for several reasons: Jason used to have a crush on me. After I kindly rejected him, it put a bit of a damper on our friendship. Plus, he didn’t like Chris, and I wouldn’t go to the party, unless Chris was able to come with me. Jason reluctantly agreed to allow Chris to come along.

Chris wasn’t fond of Jason, as well, which was why he wasn’t too excited about the idea of going to the party. But I liked Jason. He was a cool dude and one of the few people from high school that I could tolerate. Also, I figured that since all of us were going to be going away to college in the next upcoming weeks, the least I could do was go to Jason’s party and chill, for at least a couple of hours. It would probably be months, maybe even longer, before I saw Jason again.

I just hoped that Chris wouldn’t do anything to embarrass me.

Chris and I were practically completely opposites from each other. I was usually more reserved, while Chris was loud and outgoing. I liked reading and watching movie classics from the 1950s and 60s, while Chris loved sports, and usually only liked movies that had car chases, gun fights, topless women, and CGI effects. In many ways, Chris and I were different, but our relationship was surprisingly smooth, for the most part.

Since our freshman year in high school, Chris and I hated each other. From ninth grade, up to the second semester of our senior year in high school, Chris made it a special task of his to torture me—bullying, teasing, name calling. One particular day in Spanish class, Chris had been making fun of me, and I just got so sick of his taunting, that I decided to lash out on him. We both ended up in detention that day…and by the end of our detention session, we ended up having sex on the classroom floor.

Although it sounded ridiculous and impossible, that was how our relationship started.

Chris and I had spent the remainder of our senior year in high school, not knowing whether we wanted to continue to hate each other or be in love with each other. We continued to have sex off and on, without labeling ourselves as boyfriends, but it took a while longer, before we both acknowledged our true feelings for each other and that was near graduation. There had been people I’ve met, since Chris and I made our relationship official—Jason being one of those people—that have been interested in me, romantically, but that I didn’t share a strong enough passion with. Honestly, there hasn’t been anyone that I’ve met since Chris, who made me feel happy and kept me constantly wanting more. Chris can still be a real asshole sometimes…well, actually a lot of times, but he’s a very loveable asshole, and although it might be strange for other people to understand, I couldn’t imagine myself not being with him.

The doorbell rang.

Finally, I thought. He’s here.

I jogged out of my bedroom, into the living room, and opened the front door.

Chris and I had been together, for over six months, but my heart still skipped a beat, every time I saw him. He was dressed casually, in a cherry-red, V-shaped muscle T-shirt that accentuated his big biceps and muscular pecs, loose blue jeans, and a Washington Redskins baseball cap. He had this wide grin on his sexy face, and I wondered if he was excited to see me as I was to see him.

Took you ten years to get here, I scolded him.

Chris walked past me into my house. You know…had to shower and shave and all that shit. You got something to eat?

I’m sure Jason is going to have food at the party.

Do we really have to go to this thing?

I told Jason I would. It’s kind of too late to back out of it now.

Chris looked over my outfit. His eyes focused on my jeans. Damn, B. Did you paint those jeans on or something? Your balls look like they need an oxygen tank.

See? This is what I meant when I said that Chris was a ‘lovable asshole’.

Is your mom home? Chris asked.

No, she went out to dinner with a friend.

Chris grinned, mischievously. I already knew what he was thinking. He came close to me, grabbed my waist and kissed me. Chris’ large hands moved downward to my butt, squeezing and kneading my cheeks through the denim. The masculine scent of his skin, with just the slightest hint of the cologne he wore, made my blood get warmer. My dick started getting hard, although there wasn’t much room for it to grow in my jeans.

Let’s go to your room, Chris whispered. He was kissing my neck now and my skin was getting hot. He managed to wiggle a finger down the back of my jeans, in my underwear briefs, and down the length of my ass-crack. I tugged on his huge, thick erection through his baggy jeans.

No, need to get going, I said. Fucking Chris…he always got me hot and bothered and made me forget what the hell I was supposed to be doing, in the first place.

Chris kissed me again, his warm, talented tongue slipping into my mouth. I was breathless after a few seconds of that. Fifteen minutes, he said.

Sex with Chris never lasted fifteen minutes—thankfully—it was always at least an hour.

How often do you get the house to yourself? Chris continued. Let’s go to your room. We can play around. Watch something on TV, play again and then go to sleep.

That would’ve been my idea of a perfect Friday night…and Chris was right: I rarely got the house to myself, without my mom being home. I was more than a little tempted to go along with Chris’ idea. Jason probably wouldn’t care that much if I didn’t show up to his party. It wasn’t like I was the guest of honor. Still, at the same time, I felt bad about the idea of flaking on someone at the last minute. Besides, I was already dressed in my oxygen-depriving jeans and a shirt that I probably wouldn’t get a chance to wear, other than tonight.

It was one of the last times I would be able to see some of the people from my high school…not that I actually liked that many people from high school. Some of them were cool, and I just wanted to have a good night out with my boyfriend.

We can do it after we get back, I promised him. I’ll probably be good and drunk by the time we get back. You can have your way with me then.

Chris smiled. If I wasn’t already hard, seeing Chris’ smile would’ve given me a boner. Alright, B. Let’s go.

*

If this shit turns out to be boring, then we’re leaving, Chris stated, as he parked his white, Ford pick-up truck a few blocks away from Jason’s house.

We’ll probably be here only for a couple of hours.

Will Billy be there? Chris asked.

Shit, I thought. I had forgotten about Billy Anderson. He and Chris used to be football teammates and close friends back in school. Their friendship pretty much took a turn for the worse, four months earlier, after Billy refused to let Chris stay with him, after Chris and his dad got into a huge-ass fight and Chris’ dad kicked him out of the house. Chris could’ve stayed with me, except that he and I had broken up a week or so before the fight with his dad, and we really hadn’t been on speaking terms.

Long story short, Jason and Billy were dating…or fucking…or whatever the hell they were doing. I sometimes got the feeling that Jason only hooked-up with Billy Anderson, to spite me. Along with Chris, Billy had been one of my main high school tormentors. So, I definitely was not a fan of the guy. Since this was Jason’s party, there was a good chance that Billy would be there. If Billy did show up, there was a possibility that things could get pretty tense between him and Chris. I prayed that there wouldn’t be any issues between them. I hoped that if Chris saw Billy that they would be able to squash whatever bad shit they had between them. I really wanted this to be a good night.

I don’t know, I finally said. "But just be cool, if he is here. I don’t want there to be any problems."

Don’t worry about me, Chris answered, a bit defensively. There won’t be a problem, unless he makes it one.

A part of me wished that we had just stayed at home, like Chris originally suggested.

We both got out of Chris’ truck and started to walk up toward Jason’s house. It was a nice, mid-August night; warm enough to not have to wear a jacket, but not so hot that I would be sweating my balls off. I could hear the music coming from Jason’s house as we got closer, and I started to get a bit nervous.

Up until just now, I realized that I had never gone to a house party before. None of my peers had ever invited me and I never really wanted to go to one. Even high school dances were something that never appealed to me. Both Chris and I mutually decided to skip our Senior Prom, for a few reasons: we wouldn’t be able to go together as a couple (even though I think a lot of our classmates and even some of the teachers knew we were together) and on top of that, parties weren’t really our thing.

There were a few people hanging around Jason’s front lawn and porch as we walked up to his house, some of them I recognized from school, and some I didn’t know at all. Some of them gave me and Chris quick looks as we walked past them, before continuing with whatever conversation they were having.

Last chance, Chris said, before we entered the open door. We can just turn around and bounce.

We’re already here, I said.

By the end of the night, I would be wishing that I had listened to Chris.

2

brandon

The inside of Jason’s house was packed. Chris and I had to squeeze through what felt like dozens of people, to get anywhere. I hated being in situations where there were so many people in one area that it felt like I couldn’t breathe. I started to feel anxious and claustrophobic.

This was the first time that I’d ever been over to Jason’s home. It was much bigger than my home. He had nice furniture, hardwood floors, big flat-screen TV…there was a group of muscle jocks, sitting on the couch watching some action move on the big, flat screen TV, laughing and joking loudly.

I was starting to wonder why Jason had invited all these random people to his house. Jason was a lot like me, in the sense that he usually liked to keep to himself. Like me, Jason was more introverted than extroverted. The idea of Jason having a party seemed odd to me. So, from what I began to gather, this party was more of Billy’s rather than Jason’s idea. And since Billy’s house was not big enough to accommodate all these people, he had gotten Jason to throw the party at his house instead.

Ay! Yo, Green! some dude yelled. What’s up, man?

Chris and I turned in the direction of the voice. The voice sounded like Billy Anderson, but it ended up being one of Chris’ other former football teammates, Todd Sanders. He was a tall, well-built guy, with nice, blue eyes, short black hair, and a neatly trimmed mustache that made him look a little bit more mature, than his actual age. I hadn’t really known or talked to Todd that often, since he was part of the jock/cool clique and I was part of the…well, I never belonged to any clique.

What’s up, Sanders? Chris replied, I watched them as they did the whole handshake and manly-hug thing guys always did, whenever they saw each other.

Todd looked over at me and then back at Chris. Who’s this? he asked, looking a bit confused.

This is my boy… Chris stopped himself, before he said: ‘friend’. …Brandon. He went to school with us.

Todd continued to look at me like I was some weird bug from the planet Neptune. Finally, he reached out his big hand and gave me a handshake. I didn’t know if he was trying to intentionally squeeze my hand hard or not, but for a moment I thought he was going