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Taking a break from the holiday rush.

But there was no bolting. The gypsy was firmly in control, both physically and psychologically. He was the older of the two by a good ten years, but there appeared to be limitless strength in his body, and he had the manner of a man who knew exactly how to get what he wanted. Brandon was a soft, spoiled college student in comparison, no matter how well built he was. He was probably thinking now that this obsessive lark of his hadn't been such a great idea, but the two were well beyond just calling it a night and going their separate ways.

The gypsy was so fast in stripping them both of the rest of their clothes, that I hardly noticed it had been done. My attention was arrested by that blunderbuss of a cock swinging between the gypsy's legs as he rose up over Brandon. I'd certainly never seen anything this formidable in the dorm shower room. The first I noticed, he was up with his knees on either side of Brandon's pecs, and, while still holding Brandon's wrists at the headboard slats, he was forcing his cock between Brandon's lips and pumping his face slowly. I was getting all of this in a side view, and I couldn't help but start stroking my own cock as the gypsy's eight or nine inches started working their way down Brandon's throat.

Brandon's knuckles were even whiter than before from the pressure on the iron rods of his headboard, and I saw his knees come up and his heels dig into the bedspread under the strain. The muscles of his calves and thighs were popping out, and I could hear him moaning and groaning and gagging under the assault. I tried to see his eyes, but he had them shut tight.

I could almost hear the audible sigh of relief from across the room, as the gypsy pulled out of Brandon's mouth and turned him around until he was laying across the width of the bed on his back, with his butt cheeks at the edge of the bed.

The gypsy was giving Brandon head now. Although I was watching from the angle of the top of Brandon's head, I was standing at the door and looking slightly down on the tableau on the bed, so I could look down Brandon's trembling torso and see the gypsy's head bobbing above his pelvis. The gypsy was running one hand up to Brandon's nipples and then down fanning out over his flat, pulsating belly. And the other hand was between Brandon's thighs somewhere, probably doing something lustful with Brandon's balls.

Brandon had his head arched back between his arms, which were bent at the elbows close to each side of his head, with his hands bunching up the bedspread above and to the sides of his head. I could tell by the rhythmic bunching of Brandon's fists in the bedspread and the bouncing of his hips that the gypsy was stroking him deeply and fully with his mouth. He was probably an expert at this. I found myself matching the rhythm with the stroking of my own cock, and I was beginning to begrudge Brandon his adventure. He had such a look of pleasure and abandon in his eyes that I envied him that. We had talked about the pleasure of getting good head, and even had done some fumbling experimentation with each other, but I could tell from the expression on Brandon's face that we had never even come close to the real thing.

I realized then that Brandon could see me. His eyes were piercing mine. I could almost tell that he was trying to convey that this could be us-that it might very well be us on another night, if I could suspend my inhibitions as he now had. My cock gave a lurch, and I moved my free hand up and glided up my taut stomach and pecs and squeezed my nipples. I returned his look of expectation and desire as best I could, sealing the unspoken agreement. He seemed almost to be telling me that this whole episode had been constructed to bring me out fully, to make me acknowledge that I wanted him and was willing to go the distance. I lifted my cock and pointed it at him, and he gave me a kissing gesture with his mouth. The agreement was ratified.

I now could see Brandon's cock bouncing on his belly.

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