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The GreenMount Chronicles, Chapter 1 "Helping Hand"

The shower was quiet that day, very little noise save the sound of the water crashing down on the hard blue tile. Calvin the dalmatian was there, naked beneath one of the shower heads. Public showers, even the one in the locker room at college, reminded him of the stories he had heard of Roman times when people had bathed to gather and had orgies and homosexuality. These thoughts always fascinated him and aroused him, so he tried to push them away, since getting an erection in the middle of a shower room full of the homophobic jocks was a bad idea.

Sometimes the other guys in the shower would get hard, of course; it's a natural male instinct. But for them it was different. If one of the baseball jocks got a boner, the other guys just laughed and teased him about it. Or they pretended not to notice. It was easier for them because they were popular. Calvin knew he couldn't get away with it. Not after the things that had been happening to him.

The forest of muscular bodies slowly thinned out as the rest of the guys left. Calvin wasn't sure why he was lingering there, but soon there was only he and Mike-- "Big Mike" as he was called by most, and with good reason.

He was a huge muscular rottweiler, tall, wide, and powerful. This was partly due to the fact that he was older than everyone else in the senior class. He had been a year late starting school, and he'd been held back a year in grammar school. He was big, but not smart.

The black and brown fur was sleek when his body, which glistened with wet curves. Muscles stood out all over. As the water spray from the showerhead fell, it crashed onto his chest, running down between the mounds of his pecs, down in rivulets in the trail of his abs, dripping from his large balls. He had the kind of V-shape to his body that made him look wider than the other guys. His shoulders and arms looked like fur stuffed with cannonballs.

Staring at him, Calvin couldn't help it-- his rod poked up to attention, out of his white-furred sheath and into the warm, humid air.

Mike glanced over at him and smiled. Not in the "I see what you are doing" sort of way, but instead with a completely innocent, friendly expression of recognition.

"Hey Cal!" He said, his deep voice echoing slightly on the tile, and he walked over, beneath the shower head next to him. "How's its going, buddy?"

Cal shrugged. "I'm okay," he said. He turned away from Mike to hide is obvious arousal.

Mike saw it, though. "Whoa, thinking about your girlfriend?"

Calvin had never had a girlfriend, nor wanted one. "Yeah, something like that."

He glanced down at the big rottweiler. The head of Mike's shaft was poking out of its sheath, pink in a carpet of black and brown fur. "Looks like you're kinda excited, too."

"Naw dude, that's just cause it's too big to fit inside." Mike reached down and cupped the sheath in one big hand, massaging it some. No mention that Calvin was unabashedly gawking at this.

"You wanna see how big it gets?" he offered. To Mike this was all a game. Everything was a game for him. He might have been showing Cal his biceps, or measuring his pecs-- it was all the same to him.

"Um... yeah," Cal said. He felt a little tingly and nervous, the way he always did when he was extremely turned on.

Mike began tugging on the sheath, rubbing his palm up and down the swelling length of it. He slid his finger into the tip of the sheath, circling the head. Sure enough, the head began to poke out more, and the swell of the sheath thickened considerably.

Mike looked at him. "Hey bud," he said, "hold out your hand."

Calvin held up one hand, as he cast a furtive glance around to see if anyone was there. No one was.

Mike reached for the liquid soap dispenser below the shower head. He pushed the button several times and squeezed a large amount into his hand. It made a big, shiny pink mountain of bubbly soap.

Then he turned his hand over and slapped it wetly onto Calvin's up-turned hand. Some of it splattered out on impact, but much was left in Calvin's hand, the bubbly pink soap coating his fingers, puddled in his palm.

"Wanna wash it for me," Mike asked. "It gets real big when someone else touches it." He let his hands fall to his sides, tilting his hips forward, presenting his manhood.

Calvin's eyes widened, and he stifled a lustful whimper. There was no hiding how turned on he was at this point. He stood there, naked, with an almost painfully hard erection, a right hand dripping with bubbly soap, and a beautiful (though dumb) jock in front of him, basically asking for a handjob.

He nearly asked, "Are you sure?" But he held it back. This was just too good of an opportunity to question. Sometimes the conscience is superfluous.

He reached down, the pink stuff running out between his fingers, and he cupped his hand against the firm furry sheath, which by this point was much thicker. His fingers curled around its girth. A couple of inches of big hard cock was now poking out of the tip of the furry foreskin, and Calvin let his hand glide up to it, and back down, making a lather in the fur, a wonderful foam.

Mike let out a deliriously happy moan and his knees buckled a little.

"Ohhh...... dude, keep doin' that," he whimpered, eyes half-closed, and a big happy grin on his puppydog face.

This time Calvin could not keep his conscience in check. "...you sure?"

Mike nodded emphatically. "It's been like a month since I broke up with Melanie, and I ain't had nothin' since then. Pleeeease?" He smiled imploringly at Cal. Such beautiful puppydog eyes. "C'mon, help a buddy out..."

"Geez," Cal thought, "he sounds like he's asking me for a backrub or something." But it was good enough to convince him.

His slid his hand up to the exposed, smooth shaft of Mike's cock, which had grown amazingly. He could no longer completely close his fingers around it! His soapy hand moved over the sensitive skin with no friction at all. He began to stroke Mike's member, watching the pole of flesh slide through the warm tunnel of his hand.

It was such an easy thing to do, riding his hand up and down, squeezing gently, feeling the ridge of the head rub over his fingers time and again. Meanwhile he watched muscles tense up all over Mike's body as the thrust forward, face a mask of pleasure, eyes far away.

Stroking time and again, he moved faster, sensing his big friend wasn't far from cumming already.

It didn't take long at all, but for Calvin the minutes stretched out, in a combination of fear and lust-- fear that someone would hear them or walk in. Lust, of course, at the sight and sound of a six foot tall muscle-bound jock thrusting nine inches of cock into his hand, abs tensing, running, one large hand over his expansive pecs.

Mike's large balls swayed forward and back beneath the iron hard shaft, and Cal reached down with his other hand to cup them, and feel their weight. His fingertips tickled a little behind them, in that tender area between the legs, and that's when the big dog came.

At first it sounded like Mike was in pain-- he made quick little whimpering sounds, which got increasingly louder. Then Calvin felt a hot splatter on his chest and stomach as the cock gushed forth his cum. Another spray fell along his forearm, and the next reached his shoulder. The rest squirted out in short spurts and ran down Cal's fingers, mixing with the bubbly soap, which had now become a thick white lather. Obligingly Cal moved his hand more quickly, as most guys like it faster when they're cumming.

His orgasm lasted longer than Cal had ever seen-- for almost two full minutes Mike's dick twitched, his muscles tensed, and he let out little moans of delight.

When it did end, it did so gradually. Finally Cal let his hand fall away.

Mike stood there looking totally spent, panting, mouth open, tongue hanging out. He looked at the dalmatian and smiled.

"Thanks buddy," he breathed.

Then with no warning, he wrapped his arms around Cal and a pulled him into a tight hug. It wasn't one of those distant butt-poked-out hugs either; for a moment Calvin was swallowed up in Mike from head to toe, surrounded by muscle, fur... and affection. With his head pressed to the rottweiler's chest, it occurred to him how warm and tender this all was. He hadn't just jerked Mike off; he had _experienced_ him, for just a brief few minuets.

Mike pulled back stood beneath the showerhead, rinsing off, and Calvin could see his tail wagging furiously.

"Hey bud, I gotta go to class," the big rottie said. "We gotta do this again soon, okay?"

Cal nodded.

"Awesome," Mike said, and a moment later was gone.

Cal stood there for a moment, alone. He took his time rinsing off; he didn't care if he was late for class or not.

From now on, the shower room would no longer remind him of Romans having sex, but rather of the time he got to play with the kindest, best-looking guy he had ever met. Mike was the kind of guy who could be persuaded into just about anything, and long before he realized it, with a little patience and the occasional beer, and Cal could be giving him head regularly and Mike would think nothing was wrong.

But Calvin knew that would be taking advantage of his intellectual deficiency, and he simply could not use someone so innocent and beautiful and trusting.

After all, that's what everyone did to him.

Finally he got dressed and went to class.

His story will continue.