Exiting the dispensary, Brendon Lowe gave his slight shopping bag a few quick taps with his fingertips. The college senior was pleased with his pragmatic acquisition; one that he anticipated would lead his long-planned evening down a problematic but not unimaginable path. Yet the UCLA student was under no illusions. He knew that it was going to take more than the quarter ounce of Kooshy Crush and a case of premium, local craft beer to get what he desired by the end of the night. The proper mood would need to be set, everything would need to play out flawlessly, and, above all, the goddamned stars had to be as aligned as stars align. With midterms still fresh in the rearview mirror, Brendon knew this night was going to be the most opportune time to hatch a plan that had percolated over for the better part of the semester.
Brendon invited his roommate and two other seniors to his dorm for what he framed as a relaxing night of drinking and smoking out, but his intentions were stratospherically more ambitious. Although the trio of students was straight, either having girlfriends or a gaggle of women on the side, rumors circulated around each of them. Brendon figured some delicate prying under the right circumstances might get his classmates to partake in some exciting divulging.
Now, even if he were successful in getting these men to admit to their most closely held sexual secrets openly, this would only achieve the first part of Brendon’s goal. The real prize would be for all three good-looking athletes, who think they’re just dropping in for an evening of chilling, drinking, and getting high, to be open for some man-on-man shenanigans. And as hopeful as he was that things would go his way, Brendon couldn’t stop imagining the potential pitfalls: all three guys might not show up, one of them might see through his ruse and ruin the party before it simmers to a boil, or the students might choose violence over sex.
The risk was worth it.
As close as Brendon had become with his roommate, Rick Travers, the two never discussed sexual hookups with men. Brendon wasn’t sure how Rick, who was also on the wrestling team, would feel about having a roommate who split his sexual conquests almost equally between males and females. However, one of Rick’s best friends confided to Brendon that Rick drunkenly confessed having had an encounter with some police officers (though the jock feebly recanted the admission, laughing it off as a joke). After learning of this, Brendon found himself hanging around his dorm room more often than usual so he could observe his roommate, whose body was jacked from an extraordinarily disciplined diet and workout regimen.
Dominic Brady was only known by Brendon through a couple of group excursions with Rick, though the two had never hung out together as friends. Dominic was serious and thoughtful in their one-on-one interactions, but the lean volleyball player with a killer smile was an animal when he was on the court. He screamed, he spat, transforming into a rage machine during his games, which Brendon attended on occasion to get a glimpse of the handsome powerhouse. It had gotten back to the wrestler that Dominic had a wandering eye, which may have gotten him into some heat with his girlfriend’s brothers.
The last classmate expected to attend the gathering was Giles Foster, a quarterback on the football team and the most stunning of the bunch. Brendon’s former girlfriend, Amy Fuller, was the best friend of Mandy Wells, Giles’ longtime girlfriend. Giles was the one person Brendon was the least certain about and who he predominately lusted after. Amy said that the star quarterback once told Mandy that he wasn’t proud of how he finally got off the bench, which always stuck in the wrestler’s mind. He often imagined Giles, an auburn-haired Adonis who seemed destined to be a fitness model, in nasty positions with the football team’s coach. Perhaps it was wishful thinking, but Brendon convinced himself that football player wasn’t opposed to having a dick in his mouth.
When Brendon finally returned to his dorm room, shortly after 7 p.m., he only had an hour to get everything in place for the festivities.
7:04 p.m.: Cram the mini-fridge with twenty bottles of beer.
7:06 p.m.: Jump in the shower.
7:17 p.m.: Check hair, teeth, breath, and any stray hairs.
7: 23 p.m.: Finish getting dressed.
7:24 p.m.: Wait on bed patiently for guests.
By half past eight, Rick, Dominic, and Giles arrived, and all were in positively mouth-watering condition, Brendon thought. Rick and Giles were wearing shorts and t-shirts, while Dominic was still in slacks and a dress-shirt since he just returned from dinner with a potential girlfriend. The four young men got right to drinking and taking hits off Rick’s pipe, laughing and enjoying their post-midterms freedom.
“Fuck, I didn’t sleep for a week,” admitted Rick. “I still feel a little shell-shocked.”
“Same,” Giles said. “Once I finally woke up last Saturday, I went straight over to Mandy’s and fucked the shit out of her. Three times.”
“I thought I might cancel on you guys tonight,” Dominic said. “I figured I might hook up with this chick who’s been coming to my games, but then she kept bringing up religion and shit, and I knew it wasn’t going anywhere. She was fucking hot too. I had a boner all the way through dinner.”
“That sucks,” Rick said. “Well, maybe we can all blow you if you’re nice.”
“Fuck off, fag,” Dominic laughed as he took another drag from the pipe.
The group continued to laugh and joke around, becoming ever more high and intoxicated. There was a handful more gay jokes, gestures, and playful grabs over the next hour. It fascinated Brendon how so many straight guys were willing to paw all over their male friends, or even simulate humping another guy, as Rick did to Giles at one point. As much as it was making Brendon’s stomach twist and turn, he couldn’t wait much longer to put his plan into motion.
“Giles, can you hand me another beer?” Brendon asked.
The football player pulled one of the last bottles from the fridge and opened it for Brendon. “Mind if I take a sip?” Giles asked.
“Go for it,” the wrestler replied.
While maintaining eye contact with Brendon, Giles seductively ran his tongue up the bottle and then placed his mouth over it like he was sucking a dick. He handed the beer to the wrestler with a guttural laugh. Okay, Brendon thought, it’s almost eleven o’clock. This is a perfect time.
“You’re a little too good at that, bro,” Dominic said.
“Do you know how many times I’ve had to demonstrate it for Mandy?” Rick replied, with a hint of defensiveness in his tone.
“Thanks,” Brendon said. “Soooo… do you want to play a game?”
“Uh… that’s a big ‘fuck no’ for me,” Rick answered. “I hate board games.”
“Okay, no, not that kind of game,” Brendon replied. “I was thinking Truth or Dare.”
“Oh, I used to play that when I was a kid,” Dominic said. “If I say ‘truth,’ I have to admitto something embarrassing, but if I say ‘dare,’ I have to dosomething embarrassing, right?”
“Yeah, pretty much,” Brendon said.
“Don’t most people just choose truth?” Giles asked. “Or else they’d be running naked across campus.”
“It depends on how secretive you are, I guess,” Rick said. “Fine, I’m in.”
“Me too,” said Dominic.
“Okay,” added Giles. “Why not?”
“Alright, let me kick it off then,” Brendon said before taking one more long chug off of his beer. “Okay, ummmmm… Rick. Truth or Dare?”
“Truth,” Rick replied. “Definitely not doing dare.”
“You’re lucky because I had a really embarrassing dare dreamed up,” Brendon laughed, hoping to suppress the severity of the next words out of his mouth. “Let’s see, tell us… hmmmm… about a time you had sex with another guy.”
“Whoa,” Dominic said.
“Wait… seriously?” Rick asked.
“Seriously,” Brendon responded.
“Okay, if I do this, it stays here, right?” Rick asked.
“Of course,” Brendon answered. “Right guys?”
“Sure,” Dominic said.
“Yep,” Giles added.
Covering his face with both of his large palms, Rick let out a long sigh before starting. “Fine,” he said. “I was with some chick at a party with a bunch of dudes from the wrestling team. I don’t think you were there, Bren. Fuck, what was her name? Oh well, we were making out on this pool table, and she wouldn’t let go of my dick. It was like she wanted me to fuck her right there and everyone was telling us to get a room. She suggested we go back to her parents’ home because it wasn’t far and they were going to be out of town for the weekend. Halfway there, she starts puking in my car, and I’m thinking, ‘Shit, I hope she still wants to do this because my dick has never been harder!’ By the time we got to her parents’, she was practically passed out. Her Mom and Dad were home, by the way. Fuck, they were pissed. I helped her in and was asked to leave, so I drove off totally buzzed with a raging boner in the middle of the night.”
Rick explained that he was driving back to his dorm and grasping his dick the whole time. He wanted to pull it out right there and jack off in the car because the pressure in his nuts was almost too much to bear. Plus he was worried that Brendon might be in their room and didn’t want to have to jack off with his roommate in the same space (“I probably would have slept through it,” Brendon advised). The car swerved a couple of times, partly because Rick was drunk and partly because Rick’s primary focus was his cock.
The siren was the first thing Rick noticed before hearing, “pull over” from the patrol car that was following him. Great, the young wrestler thought, this would be his second DUI. Rick’s wrestling scholarship, his place on the team, and college altogether could be on the line. He’d have to return to Kansas with an incomplete education and an uncertain future, all before turning twenty-two. He pulled alongside a large wall in an isolated commercial district, turned off the car, and brought the window down, awaiting his fate as the officer walked toward his car.
“License and registration,” the officer said. The young man pulled the registration out of the glove compartment and his license out of his wallet, passing them both to the officer without uttering a word. “Have you been drinking, Mr. Travers?”
“I… uh… had a few drinks at… uh… a party, um, earlier,” Rick sputtered.
“You were swerving back there,” the officer noted. “That’s why I pulled you over. I’ll be back after I run your information.”
The wait was interminable, and Rick’s anxiety was even worse. He imagined his father telling him not to bother coming home until he cleaned up his act, and he already began working out whose couches he could crash on until he could find a place to live. How was he going to afford an apartment in Los Angeles, he wondered? When the officer made his way back to the car, Rick felt like he might vomit.
“Rick, I’m going to need you to step out of the car,” the officer said.
“Oh, God… please…” Rick pleaded. “I mean, is there any… any way at all that you can let this slide. I’m only a mile from campus. I was supposed to be with my girlfriend tonight, but she was trashed. I know, I do, uh… th-that I should have never been driving. God, this could get me kicked out of school. Please… I’m begging.”
The officer leaned down into the window, taking a good look at the student. “You play sports?”
“I… I’m on the wr-wrestling team,” Rick stammered. “At UCLA. Please, sir.”
“Hmmmm…” the officer said, putting his hand on Rick’s shoulder and giving it a squeeze as though he was inspecting it. “So you want me to look the other way?”
“Please,” Rick said.
“Okay,” the officer said. “Give me a minute. I’ll be back right back.”
Ten minutes passed, and Rick sat in his car while the officer remained in his. Suddenly two more police cars pulled up behind the first officer’s vehicle. The man got out of his car and returned to Rick’s window. The wrestler was confused, wondering why the situation would require two additional cops. Were they going to rough him up?
“Alright, Rick,” the officer said. “Step out of the car, please.”
“What’s going on?” Rick asked.
“You asked if there was a way that I could let this slide,” the officer said. “That’s what we wanted to talk to you about.”
“We?” Rick asked.
“Just get out of the car if you want to get off,” the officer ordered.
“Literally,” a voice cackled from the darkness.
Trembling and unable to concentrate, Rick couldn’t tell if nerves were consuming him or if he was still drunk. He got out of the car and followed the officer to the rear, where two other cops were waiting. They looked like a pair of bodybuilders, with their short-sleeved shirts stressed at the seams. The larger of the two appeared to be in his forties, while the leaner one was just a few years older than Rick.
“Not bad, Andrews,” said the older cop. “What do you say, kid? Officer Andrews says you’re looking to get out of a DUI. Is that right?”
“Y-yeah,” Rick replied.
“What’s your GPA?” the older cop asked.
“Uh… it’s 3.8,” Rick answered.
“Perfect,” the older cop smiled. “You’re probably a fast learner.”
Andrews and the younger cop laughed as it started to sink in what was happening. Rick looked around, wondering if he could sprint away from the police, but realized that meant leaving his car behind. And that would have only added to his troubles. The men reached for the twenty-one-year-old wrestler, getting a feel for his arms and chest.
“What do you think, Graves?” Andrews said to the older cop.
“Not bad,” Graves replied. “Peters and I clocked out just in time.”
“Look, guys,” Rick said. “I don’t know what you have in mind. But I’m not—“
“Sounds like you know exactly what we have in mind,” Graves snarled. “Now get out of those clothes.”
“Wait,” Rick said, taking a step back and lifting both his hands toward the cops.
“Kid, do you want to spend the night in jail?” Peters asked. “And get a DUI?”
Officer Andrews moved in front of the wrestler and began unfastening his belt and pulling his pants down. “That’s not so bad, right?” the cop asked, placing his hand on the young man’s cock, feeling it grow in his grasp. The cop landed a tender kiss on the student’s lips, licking his way down Rick’s neck. “God, you’re so fucking hot kid. Come on, let’s have some fun with my buddies, okay?”