RonJon Part III: The Homecoming

It was Wednesday afternoon, and in a reversal of roles from the previous Saturday, I had just fucked Ron for the first time – in fact, it was the first time Ron had ever been fucked by any man!

We cuddled for a bit in my bed, the sweet smells of sweat and spunk surrounding us, and then we both dozed off. I woke up to see him sliding out of bed, and reaching for his running shorts, which I had stripped off of him. He heard me stirring and looked back at me, his still-naked, muscular body in full view of my lustful eyes.

“Got to get going,” he said, and grinned. “Hump Night is calling, and I need a workout, and you need a rest.”

I stretched and groaned a bit, and said to him as he pulled on his shorts, “You’re not likely to find a better fuck than you are yourself, hot stuff – but, happy hunting anyway.”

He blew me a kiss and strode out, back to his and Jon’s room. Through the heater vent, I heard drawers opening and closing, and then he left to go down the hall to the bathroom, likely for a shower. A few minutes later he came back to his room, and got dressed, and in a cloud of Drakkar Noir, left for the mid-week pub-crawl that the students on our campus all called Hump Night. I could hear later that night the unmistakable sounds of Ron having scored. So, I got the night’s rest that I had promised myself, in spite of myself.

Jon was due back Friday, and Ron stayed busy with whatever bimbo he had picked up on Hump Night, so I didn’t see much of him. He drove to the airport Friday evening after class to pick up Jon, and whatever extra-curricular activities Ron had been kept busy with all week, did not seem to matter much. All night Friday and most of Saturday, there was much squeaking of bedsprings and groaning and crying out, as Ron made up for lost time at the expense of Jon’s scrawny, dark ass.

By Sunday afternoon, however, Jon had tired of Ron’s over-enthusiastic welcome home party. They had an argument and Ron stomped out, to go bar-hopping again. I don’t know what had happened to Jon at the journalism convention, but he came back seemingly determined to set some limits on Ron’s access to Jon for sexual purposes, and Ron wasn’t having it.

I went out also, to the campus library and for a late supper, and by the time I got back the weather had turned rainy and cold. In fact, it was sleeting, and threatening snow – after our early, warm, spring, this sudden change felt even colder.

The atmosphere inside the house was frigid also – especially on the third floor. Jon was bedded down, fully clothed, on the couch at the