By Stephen Albrow

(Freshmen.April.2007.)

It’s every guy’s fantasy to pretend to be someone you’re not — until you’re caught with your pants down, so to speak.

If there’s one thing I love it’s when a young guy tries to act like a man and totally, utterly fails at it. You know the type — maybe he’s trying to get into an age restricted nightclub, or trying to appear sophisticated while he talks to an attractive older guy. So he starts chain smoking Marlboros, wearing shades, and asking the bartender for a whiskey and rye. He does whatever he can to appear older than he is, but it only makes his inexperience stand out even more.

Rick was a classic example. Like a lot of college students in my hometown, he was desperate to get into the local gay club, but the only club around here was for thirty- and forty- somethings, not guys barely on the verge of drinking age. So to persuade the bruiser at the door, he’d put on this dinner jacket — which looked at least two sizes too big for him — and he was smoking cheroots that made him cough after every puff. It was obvious he was a phony from the moment he’d joined the queue to get in, but the bruiser at the door had a weakness for college guys, so he let him through.

“Just promise me that you won’t drink any liquor,” the bouncer said as he lifted the chain at the door and ushered the kid inside. Rick crossed his heart, then vanished into the club — with me in hot pursuit.

Jeez, was I out to make mischief that night? As soon as Rick approached the bar, I dashed over and offered him a drink.

“You look like a Scotch man,” I told him, signaling the bartender to pour us doubles.

Rick nodded his thanks, his big wide eyes just visible through the smoke trailing off his little cigar. He was trying to do that Humphrey Bogart thing where you let the che­root dangle from the corner of your mouth and don’t take it out between drags.

To keep it at the right angle, Rick had to cement his face into a permanent scowl. The effect made him look like a surly youth who didn’t want to share his toys.

“Not drinking?” I asked him when he didn’t touch his Scotch. Rick drew on the cheroot then coughed a bit before delivering his carefully considered response.

He made some comment about hav­ing had a heavy night of drinking the night before, but it was clear from the look of him that it was all just big talk. Through the cloud of smoke I could see Rick’s chin, which looked as though it had never seen a razor. And as for his clothes, like I said before, they were much too big for his tiny frame, making it look as if he had found his grand­pa’s old trunk in the attic and ransacked it for an outfit.

“So, what do you do?” I asked him, enjoying the game. “No, let me guess. You’re in real estate or something to do with stocks and shares.”

“Right on the money,” Rick replied. “I’m an investment broker, dealing with futures and stuff like that.”

“Jeez,” I said to him, “in that case, my friend, maybe you should be buying me a drink.”

Rick seemed to balk at that, like maybe he didn’t have too much money on him.

“Drink mine,” he said, like he was making some kind of magnanimous gesture.

While handing me the glass, he took a massive draw on his cigar but wound up having a coughing fit. In fact, he hacked so much that the stogie slipped out of the corner of his mouth and tum­bled down to the floor. He bent down to retrieve it, which was when I decid­ed that enough was enough.

“Nice butt for a freshman,” I chided the guy when he bent right over in front of me.

“I ain’t no freshman,” Rick said, look­ing up from his lowly position. “This club is for adults only” — as if that remark proved his point.

“So you’re a real man, are you?” I said, tugging him back to his feet. I grabbed hold of his hand and shoved it down my pants. Rick tried not to show any visible shock when his fingers touched my prick, which was about eight inches at that point.

“Think you can handle that much prick?” I goaded him, keen to see how far he would go to prove himself.

“Sure,” he said, his youthful bravado refusing to let him say no. Then he stubbed his cheroot out in an ashtray on the bar and led me to the men’s room.

It was dark in the bathroom, since he management knew that was how the clientele liked it. Rick chose a stall halfway down, then locked us both inside. Without any further fuss or foreplay, like it was the most natural thing for a real man to do, I pushed my pants straight down and sheathed up my prick with a condom from my wallet. “I’m so glad that you’re not a freshman,” I said, “because those younger guys always want so much foreplay and stuff.”

“Not me,” said Rick, dropping straight down to his knees, desperate to prove what a worldly, sophisticated man he really was.

I looked down at Rick’s handsome face as he parted his lips and swal­lowed my swollen junk. For a brief moment it reminded me of his antics with the cigar because it was clear that he was biting off a whole lot more than he could chew. As his slobber coated my crown, my prick continued to expand inside his mouth. By the time he began to push his lips up and down my tumid shaft, I had bulked up to my full 10 inches.

But Rick wasn’t going to acknowl­edge that at all. Rather than admitting defeat — and having to confess that maybe he wasn’t quite as old as he had said he was — he puckered up his lips real good and worked himself into quite an oral frenzy. No previous lover had ever swallowed more than seven inch­es of my prick before, but then again no previous lover had ever had a point to prove. Maybe that’s why he kept on pushing his lips ever farther down my shaft, until eventually his face was pushing deep into my thick crop of pubic hair.

Gazing down at Rick’s youthful face and knowing that he had so much of my prick between his lips just seemed to emphasize the obvious fact that you should only send a man to do a man’s job. But Rick was willing to have a go — and more than that, he was succeeding in causing a whole wave of sensual sensations to shoot through my crotch As my thick prick pushed in and out of his mouth, I could feel my cock starting to really throb.

It was a feeling that I recognized as the signal that my prick gave to me when it wanted a tighter hole to pene­trate. So I pulled my prick out of the freshman’s mouth, then lifted him back up to his feet and began to tug his clothes off.

I removed his jacket first, and then I undid his shirt, planting kisses on his hairless torso each time that a button came undone. His pecs were only half grown, and his belly was pretty skinny, but I didn’t want to tease him anymore. He was doing his best to act like a worldly gentleman, so I decided that I would do my best to pretend he probably wasn’t still in college.

My rampant hunger for Rick’s lean body made for a sticky, slobbery kiss. I was thrusting my tongue back and forth so quickly that my spittle was dripping all over his chin. He didn’t seem to mind that, not even when I smeared my hand through the drool and used it to lubricate the freshman’s back passage.

The guy had pushed down his own pants and underwear, so I figured that he was happy for me to fuck him. But I decided to ask him, partially because I felt a sudden urge to tease him again and partially just to make sure.

“Are you sure you can handle 10 inches?” I asked, using my hand to deliver a firm slap on his buns.

He looked up at me — his eyes as wide as dinner plates — then his upper lip curled into a world-weary sneer, as if he ate 10 inches of cock for breakfast every morning. With that, Rick turned his butt toward me and leaned against the stalls. I took a firm grip on his nar­row hips, and then pressed my prick head up against his pink bud.

It was a very tight fit, but my bul­bous steak is like the head of a ham­mer, and it was able to blast its way into the depths of Rick’s beautiful asshole. He shouted as I pushed my cock inside him, so I covered his mouth with one of my hands. It was going to take a while for his bung to come to appreci­ate my meaty prick, and I didn’t want him making too much noise in the meanwhile.

Bucking my hips back and forth with a fairly gentle pace, I gradually got the twink’s back passage to make nice with my erection. The slow, tender poke really worked. Although I could feel his anus convulsing around my shaft and crown, the spasms seemed to be friendly, maybe even pleasurable.

When I eventually released my hand from Rick’s mouth, his pussy was so attuned to my erection that the kid was confident enough to tell me to fuck him even faster. Then, as I began to increase the tempo of my plunging, I even began to wonder if maybe he truly wasn’t a fresh­man after all — maybe he was­n’t quite the little lamb that I’d thought he was. You see, he seemed to cope with the higher speed of the fucking so successfully that, if I hadn’t looked down just then and seen the kid’s prick, he would have had me totally fooled.

But check him out I did. Upon seeing Rick’s cock, there was no doubting that he couldn’t be any older than 20 or 21. It wasn’t that his meat was small but that it was fit to burst. Without using his hands, Rick had gotten right to the verge of orgasm. Just a few nice kisses, a quick suck of my prick, and several pokes up his butt had been enough to make the kid want to cream.

That’s another thing I’ve noticed about young dudes: They lack the stamina that we older guys have.

“I can’t wait for you to fuck me next,” I said to Rick, just to tease him a little again. I knew if he even saw my tasty wet asshole he’d cream himself.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t top,” Rick declared nonchalantly.

He was trying to sound experienced, but he came across more like a big fat liar. Still, it was so cute the way he wouldn’t admit that he was a neo­phyte; I decided to reward his cuteness with an immediate orgasm. Tightening my hands around his prick, I pulled twice on his foreskin, and the kid was so full of pent-up sexual tension that those two tugs were enough to make his crown start to throb.

A generous dose of jizz splattered all over my fingers as the vibes in Rick’s crown made his seed come gushing out of his slit. I smeared that spooge all over his shaft while I continued to pump my prick in and out of his rump.

Upon reaching orgasm, a series of convulsions shot through Rick’s back passage, just as if they were echoing the ones shooting through his prick head. These rippling muscle actions made his asshole seem a lot narrower, which explained the extra friction I was feeling inside him — all of which explained the tingle in my shaft. And that explained the pulsations in my prick head. And those explained the sudden surge of steamy spunk that burst out of my come slit.

It was an exquisite orgasm, which seemed to stem from the very heart of my candy sack. I leaned forward and kissed Rick’s shoulders as an endless stream of cock sauce poured out of my crown, draining my body of every ounce of tension. My prick head was throbbing with an intensity that totally overwhelmed me, blurring my mind to the fact that the whole sexual encounter had been somewhat self-defeating.

You see, the thing that I loved most about Rick was his youth. But as my massive rod squirted its seed inside his butt hole, the idea slowly dawned on me that I had made a proper man of him. Sure, he was still barely 20, but a lot of his juvenile innocence seemed to vanish just from knowing that he was able to accommodate my 10 inch prick. If he could handle that, then I figured he could handle anything.

In fact, I’d even go so far as to say that Rick was finally ready for the din­ner jacket, the cheroot, the glass of whiskey, and that fancy job “trading futures” on Wall Street.