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From: Ashley Creek <ashley42creek@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Pair of Reeboks and a Steelers Cap {Will "Crash" Reuther} (M exhib, MF rom no-sex, coll)
Date: Tue, 11 Jun 2002 22:10:04 -0400
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A Pair of Reeboks and a Steelers Cap (M exhib, MF rom no-sex,
coll) by Will "Crash" Reuther Ashley42Creek@yahoo.com



If you see a bunch of guys running about the campus, naked,
during the night, you may presume they had to get themselves
drunk enough to work up the courage to go through with the dare.
But if you see ONE guy--alone--naked, on campus, during the
night, it's a fair bet he's despressed and needs to get drunk
enough to snap himself out of it.  That was what happened to me.

     Sometimes in a young man's life, there will occur an evening
when the situation and the circumstances in which he finds
himself produce nothing but despair and desperation.  That I
hadn't gotten laid the previous weekend goes without saying.  But
the young woman who had been my date for the Foot Ball--the
weekend of the Affton game--had not even shown the slightest sign
of any interest in progressing toward any such degree of intimacy
within the forseeable future.  Consequently, I never wanted to
see her again.  Fortunately, although we had been in two classes
together during the second semester of our sophomore year, she
had chosen a different lodge during Symposium, and I hadn't even
been certain she had returned for junior year until I had
consulted the student directory, before calling her to ask her to
the dance. 

     Quite frankly, I had no idea where my next KISS was coming
from.  Every meaningful element in my life belonged either to the
past or to the future.  All that existed in the present moment
were the mundane necessities of campus life:  eating, sleeping,
studying, and going to classes--and none of that amounted to more
than surviving the here and now, in blind preparation for an
unfathomable future. 

     It was a surprisingly warm night for so late in the fall,
and my walk from the library back to my dormitory had been
leisurely.  Had there been anything immediate to which I could
look forward, it would have been a pleasant evening; had there
been a girl with whom to share the experience, I probably would
have proposed marriage to her, right on the spot.  But everything
about THAT evening reminded me only of how alone I was. 

     Even before dinner, late that afternoon, a mixed group of my
lodge brothers and sisters had been playing "strip horse" on the
back patio.  (Rather than spelling out the five-letter word
whenever they missed a shot at the lone basket mounted on a pole
at the far end of the patio, they kept score by discarding an
article of clothing.)  A couple of guys had already shed their
trousers and were playing in flapping shirttails (for Roper Lodge
was conservative enough that tee-shirts were banned at
dinnertime), and one of them was down to his boxer shorts and
undershirt, while one of the girls was playing in her jeans and
bra and another was already bare-breasted.  When the dinner bell
rang, though, they ended their game and their exhibition, quickly
got dressed, and moved inside, laughing in intimate camaraderie,
to the dining room. 

     And now, as I passed the comparatively secluded, outdoor
basketball courts behind the gymnasium, I observed a dozen guys
(probably from Highland Lodge) playing "shirts vs. skins"
basketball--the "hard" way:  that is, the one team wore only
their tee-shirts, while the other wore only their bare skins.  A
small claque of girls--presumably from St. Audrey's College for
Women rather than from our own student body--were watching the
exhibition and giddily cheering the boys on.  I guessed that the
winning team would get to take the girls back to the dorm, for
there weren't nearly enough of them to go around! 

     As a final blow, once I got to my dormitory suite, my
roommate's tie was hanging on the doorknob of our bedroom, and
none of the other guys had any idea whether his girlfriend was
planning on staying the night! 

     I was pissed!  I could only think of three ways to keep from
going off the deep end:  getting drunk; getting laid; or getting
some other form of hard exercise.  My eyes fell on my running
shoes and cap, lying forlornly--just as forlornly as I felt,
myself--in my cubbyhole of the massive bookcase that screened the
bedroom doors from the main part of our living room.  The nearest
cold beer was at the lodge; the only girl nearby that I knew of
was already getting laid, as far as I could tell; and the only
exercise that made any sense was a good, long run.  The obstacle
presented by the fact that my running outfit, save for the shoes
and cap, was inaccessible behind the closed door of my bedroom,
suddenly vanished from my perceptions in a veritable puff of
smoke. 

     I stripped.  I slammed my books into my cubbyhole and took
off every last thing I was wearing, stuffing all of it into the
cubbyhole with my books.  Nude, I crammed the cap onto my head,
picked up the running shoes, and walked around the end of the
bookcase to the nearest chair, where I sat to lace up the shoes.
Phil and Mike exchanged glances but said nothing until I headed
for the door. 

     "Aren't you forgetting something?" Phil asked, as I reached
for the doorknob. 

     I turned and fixed my eyes on his.  "Not that makes one
fucking bit of difference!" I snarled.  And I opened the door and
left the suite. 


The slight chill in the late evening air, pleasant with my
clothing on, now was exhilarating.  I understood, in a blinding
flash of revelation, how both sets of basketball exhibitionists
had felt, doffing their clothing in pursuit of exercise and more
than one sort of stimulation.  I did not pay any attention to
whether anyone was about as I left the dormitory and jogged out
of the quadrangle toward the practice fields.  If anyone saw
me--and noticed my state of exposure--they said nothing to me. 
By the time I got to the practice fields, my level of exertion
was fairly well balanced with the temperature, and I don't think
I even recalled that I was naked. 

     There was no one about at the practice fields that late at
night, and even if someone had been looking out any of the
windows of the Garden Quad, they could not have been certain, at
that distance and in the dark, that I wasn't properly attired.  I
felt comfortable with my solitude as I did several laps about the
fields--enough to amount to at least two miles, I suppose--until
my need for exercise had been assuaged and my need for beer took
over.  I headed for the Circle. 

     Most of my route was on campus, passing east of the lower
campus dormitories, around the old prep school site, and through
the academic quadrangle.  At that time of night, those precincts
were typically deserted, yet still I took no notice of whether I
encountered anyone or not.  I did have to cross Thomas Street, of
course, and I was vaguely aware of some light traffic there, but
the occupants of those cars must simply have been too stunned at
seeing a naked student dash across the street, to have reacted in
time for me to notice.  Jogging around the Circle to my lodge, I
did meet a number of seniors and fellow classmates from other
lodges, of course, but we exchanged only the usual polite nods
and waves of recognition.  The presence of naked students of
either gender was far from unheard of on the Circle, though such
occasions were usually after closing hours of the Saturday night
parties. 

     I gained the front entrance of Roper Lodge, mounted the
steps, and strolled in just as usual.  The building is never
closed while the college is in session.  I saw some fellow
members in both the parlor and the lounge, but I headed directly
for the stairs to the basement and found my way to the bar
without delay, drawing a beer from the tap and settling myself on
the first stool, ready to make a night of it, notwithstanding
what was already a late start.  Several of my friends walked by,
from time to time, and spoke to me, but made no overt sign of
noticing anything unusual.  None of them repeated Phil's inquiry,
but a couple of them did ask whether I was all right.  My reply
in each instance was that I would work it out, and I would turn
to face them directly, lift my mug in toast, and tacitly dare
them to say one single word about my lack of clothing. 


I had already drawn a second beer when Janet walked into the
room.  She was a junior, too, so we had signed in together last
spring, had run around the lodge all night in our underwear
(along with all the rest of our section, that is) in fulfillment
of the initiation rites that predate coeducation, and had proven
our ability to get plastered without dying of humiliation.  (In
contrast to the practice at a number of the other lodges, Roper,
as one of the first to admit women to its membership roles, no
longer required its sophomore sections to get completely naked,
and there were usually relatively few volunteers.) 

     I smiled at Janet and raised my mug in a symbolic toast to
her, and after she had drawn a brew of her own, she sat down next
to me.  No one else was sitting at the bar, and she could have
had any other seat in the room.  But she chose to sit down next
to the naked guy. 

     "Studying getting you down?" she asked. 

     "Among other things." 

     "Me too."  Except she wasn't down far enough to have taken
all her clothes off.  Of course, it's a different matter for
women.  I understood that. 

     "Here's to studying!"  We clicked our mugs and took deep
sips. 

     "Professor Keller's a bitch!" 

     "Bastard?" I offered an amendment. 

     "No.  I think he's a bitch!" 

     "Could be."  I took another gulp. 

     "You in Psych?" 

     "Naw!  PoliSci!" 

     "So who's got you down?" 

     "Who doesn't?" 

     "You want to talk about it, or do you want to be left
alone?" 

     I turned my head to look directly at her.  "I don't want you
to leave.  I'm not sure I want to talk about it much, either,
though." 

     "Okay.  What do you want to talk about?" 

     I set my mug down and turned the rest of my body to face
her.  "You don't mind talking to the naked guy?" 

     She shrugged.  "I've seen naked guys before." 

     "Yeah," I chuckled.  "You can't get away from it around
here, can you." 

     "Do you run around naked often?" 

     "My first time, actually," I smiled.  "I'm surprised I had
it in me." 

     "You must REALLY have been feeling down!" 

     "I suppose so.  The thing is, now that I've had a couple,
I'm starting to have second thoughts about it.  I'm not relishing
getting back to my dormitory, now, at all!  You want another?"  I
had drained my mug and was ready for a third draft, but she was
only a little more than halfway through hers. 

     She looked at the level of liquid in her mug, looked at me,
and calmly threw back the rest of it, gulping it down without
stopping.  "Yeah, thanks!" 

     I took her mug, refilled both, and slid my stool even closer
to hers as I resumed my seat.  She didn't flinch or try to back
off from me, though now I was close enough that she could have
reached right out and grabbed my cock.  I looked her over again.
She had nice hair (just the kind I like), a good shape under her
sweater, no visible pins or rings to indicate a committed
relationship, and still a very nice smile on her face. 

     "Are you living in the lodge or the dorms?" I asked her. 

     "Dorm," she indicated, "just like you." 

     "Maybe not tonight," I shrugged, taking another sip. 
"Unless this beer and the next one or two get me past it, I'm not
feeling like going back outside, in this condition." 

     "You made it here all right, didn't you?  What's the
difference?" 

     "The difference is, I'm starting to realize what I did." 

     "You're not having any trouble, sitting here and talking to
me." 

     "You're being very nice about it.  Would you care to marry
me?" 

     She leaned over and gently kissed my cheek, and I blushed,
for the first time that evening (as far as I know).  "It's a
little early for me to make that decision."  As she sipped her
beer, I thought I noticed her blush, too. 

     "Am I scaring you?" 

     "Not yet." 

     "At least, you know I have nothing to hide."  I spread my
arms, as if that revealed any significant portion of my body that
she hadn't already noticed.  Then I remembered that I was wearing
my cap and shoes.  I reached up and lifted the cap.  "Oh, yes!
There!  You see?  I must warn you, though, that there's a lot of
baldness among my ancestors, so by the time our children are our
age, I probably won't be looking quite this handsome any more!" 

     She laughed pleasantly--more than pleasantly. 

     "If you want to inspect my feet," I added, stretching them
out, one on either side of her barstool, so that, in fact, I was
emphasizing my crotch more than my feet, "just let me know."  I
took another pull on my beer, while I was in that position,
waiting for her response. 

     "I think I get the picture." 

     "Are you scared yet?" 

     "Nope!" 

     "Then would you like to go out with me this weekend?" 

     "That's a more reasonable proposition." 

     "Well, I didn't mean it as a proposition, exactly.  I AM
planning on wearing clothing, for example, assuming I can find a
way to get back to my dorm without dying of mortification." 

     "That would be good.  I don't guess I'd absolutely insist on
it, but I suppose you would make a better impression on me if I
saw you WITH clothing, once, too, before I made up my mind about
you." 

     "Agreed!  Is it a date?" 

     "It's a date." 

     I leaned forward and kissed her on the lips.  She held the
kiss longer than I had any right to expect, to the point that it
occurred to me that I couldn't know whether I was becoming
aroused--for my cock was hanging out where it wasn't pressing
against anything, and thus I could not feel what it was doing.  I
couldn't stop the kiss, though, so I gently put an arm on her
back, and she put her hand on my bare shoulder, and I pretty well
knew, that instant, that I would marry her, one day. 


The kiss didn't really last all that long, I suppose, but when
she ended it, I couldn't do anything but look straight into her
eyes for at least a full minute.  Then I blushed again and had to
look down, discovering, fortunately, that my cock was still
behaving itself, even though it was its first time out in public.
 Janet looked down, too. 

     "I AM interested," I protested, "but I'm not taking anything
for granted." 

     "Then, you don't figure that any girl who would accept a
date with a naked guy is easy?" 

     "You don't look easy." 

     "I'm not." 

     "But you accepted a date with a naked guy." 

     "That's not why you're naked." 

     "How can you be sure?" 

     "I'm pretty sure." 

     "You're betting on me, then?" 

     "I guess so." 

     "Fair warning, then!  I think I've already fallen in love
with you." 

     "I know." 

     "Still not scared?" 

     "Still not scared." 

     I finished the third beer and held the empty mug up with a
questioning look at her.  She shook her head, and I went off to
draw my fourth.  "I am," I declared, on my return. 

     "What are you?" 

     "Scared." 

     "Of me?" 

     I thought for a minute.  "Maybe a little, but that's not
what I had in mind." 

     "So, what?" 

     "Scared of having to get back to the dorm like this, like I
said." 

     "What's the big deal?  It got you a date." 

     I laughed and had to kiss her again.  We ended up with our
heads still very close together, and, to keep her balance, she
had to put her hand on MY bar stool, right next to my naked butt.
 We each took another few sips of our beers, felt each other's
breathing, and kissed again. 

     "Now you're interested," she mentioned, quite calmly.  Her
eyes fluttered downward and returned to mine. 

     I leaned back, took a quick look down at my crotch, and saw
that I was hard.  "Sorry about that," I muttered. 

     "It's not something to be sorry about," she insisted. 

     "You're still not scared?" 

     "A girl likes to know she's appreciated." 

     "A girl doesn't like to think she might be raped." 

     "Are you planning on raping me?" 

     "No!  No!  But I'm not sure it's safe for you to kiss me
again." 

     She answered by pulling me back toward her and kissing me
again. 

     "I wasn't presuming anything," I pledged earnestly, "but if
you want me tonight, just say the word." 

     "I AM testing you." 

     "How am I doing?" 

     "Do you want to sleep with me tonight?" 

     "Yes.  I WANT to.  I just don't think that's likely to
happen." 

     "Would you lose interest in me if it did happen?" 

     "Not at all!" 

     "So, what should we do?" 

     "I'm on my fourth beer; that's your second. Let's leave it
up to you.  It's probably safer that way." 

     "Would that disappoint you?" 

     "We've still got a date for the weekend, don't we?" 

     "Yep." 

     "No matter what?" 

     "Well, . . ."

     "I mean, . . ."

     "I know what you mean." 

     "Look.  I'm not worried about you.  I'm just worried about
getting back to my dormitory.  I'll warn you, though, if you
marry me, I'll be walking around in front of you like this a lot,
and I'll want a summer house where our kids can run around naked
for a week at a time and I can make love to you on the front lawn
at high noon, and the day I don't want to make love to you will
be the day you'll have to bury me." 

     She gulped visibly.  "That's an interesting offer." 

     "Right now, though, I just want to go out with you this
weekend and find out whether you're still interested in me after
you've seen me with my clothes on." 

     "You don't think you're being a little presumptuous?" 

     I looked at my drink.  I had just noticed, finally, how much
it was hitting me.  "I think I'm being a little bit drunk." 

     "Drunk enough, yet, to make your way back to the dorm?" 

     That still seemed to be a problem.  "Shit!  I don't think
so." 

     "You want me to help you?" 

     I looked at her, not certain what she meant. 

     "I'll walk you back to your room, if you want," she offered.
 "Would that help?" 

     The prospect of having her on my arm seemed much more of a
good thing than the fact that I would still be naked. "You
willing to give it a try?" 

     "Sure." 

     "What if I throw up on the way?" 

     "Just hit the grass--and not me--and our date's still on." 

     I took a last chug, but still left the mug half full.  "Okay
then!  Let s go!" 


I was a bit unsteady on my feet as I got down off the bar stool,
and I decided a quick stop in the john would be prudent, but she
was still waiting for me as I came out the door, having used the
facility (for the first time outside my home, a locker room, or a
dormitory, I suppose) without zipping up afterward. She took my
hand and we went upstairs.  A few eyebrows were raised that I was
leaving naked with her, but she grabbed her jacket from the cloak
room, and we left as if nothing were out of the ordinary.  She
was about to zip up her jacket when she realized that the
chivalry of liberation demanded that, in these most unusual
circumstances, she really should offer it to me.  "Oh, I'm
sorry," she apologized.  "Do you want to wear this?" 

     "Naw," I declined.  "If I'm going to do this at all, let's
go all the way.  I don't think that's long enough to cover
anything that matters, anyway." 

     "It might keep you warmer." 

     "I'll survive." 

     She zipped up her jacket, we slipped our arms around each
other, and we started along the Circle.  It was after midnight by
now, and we got across Thomas Street without being directly in
any cars' headlights and through Galloway Arch and into the
academic quad without mishap. 

     "Oh," I exclaimed, remembering that I didn't know whether my
room was still occupied. 

     "What?" she asked. 

     "I just remembered what the last straw was.  My roommate was
holed up with his girlfriend.  I don't even know whether I'm
sleeping on the sofa tonight." 

     She didn't say anything more, and I was plotzed enough that
I didn't notice until she guided me into an entry in a different
dormitory, that we hadn't been heading toward my room, after all.
 This was HER dormitory.  I went up to the door of her suite with
her but hesitated there. 

     "Hey, you didn't bargain on taking me home," I whispered,
drawing her into a good-night kiss outside her door. 

     "You need a real bed tonight, not a sofa." 

     "I don't want to put you out." 

     "Let me decide whether I'm being put out.  I want you in
good condition for our date this weekend." 

     "No, no, no.  I'll say good-night now and leave you alone. 
I'll see you at lunch tomorrow.  And don't worry, I'm not missing
that date for anything!" 

     At that moment, the door to the suite opened, and one of her
roommates emerged in a robe, heading downstairs for the bathroom.
 She looked me up and down, from head to toe, and shook her head.
 My nudity was obvious enough, although my body was pressed
against Janet's, so that my privates weren't in view at that
particular moment.  During the momentary distraction, though,
Janet caught the door and managed to pull me into the suite. 



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