After the Dresses Are Gone

Chapter 2

The school festival made Tooru realize how much he had enjoyed being a Princess. This year, Mikoto was happy to spend the whole time with his girlfriend and sister. Akira was busy with President Arisada once again, and Yuujirou was spending time with his family. Tooru made his way back to his dorm room just an hour after the opening ceremony featuring the new Princesses’ singing was done. He sat down at his desk, pulling his math book towards him. But he didn’t start working on the assigned problems, he just twirled his pencil, lost in thought. It was weird being alone in the room. In fact it was probably—no it was—the first time he would have the room to himself for some hours. Yuujirou and he had the same classes, the same schedule. They were best friends. They basically spent every minute of the day together—and every minute of the night.

Tooru turned around and started at Yuujirou’s bunk. Once more he could see Yuujirou on that bed, stroking himself. They hadn’t talked about it. Yuujirou hadn’t found a girlfriend over the summer either. It didn’t bother Tooru—really it didn’t, but some nights this first week he heard rustling and shifting below him after they’d stopped talking, and he wondered if Yuujirou was touching himself. Just last night Yuujirou had been shifting a bit and then had gotten up and gone to the bathroom, quietly—and Tooru then had wondered if he was sneaking off to pleasure himself. He’d gotten hard himself, and it hadn’t gone away. He’d woken up hard again. And now, just remembering last night and this morning, he was getting hard again.

I better masturbate now, thought Tooru. I can’t do it at night with Yuujirou in the room—he’ll hear or smell me, and I’d just die. And if I don’t get off, I might have a wet dream—oh, god, and that would kill me. Yuujirou would mock me. He’d look at me with those big gold eyes of his and say something like, “Tooruko-chan, were you dreaming about me again? You just have to ask me, pretty girl”—no, he wouldn’t say anything like that! Where the hell had that come from? From being Princesses, of course. We used to flirt to drive Miko-chan mad—we’d call each other Tooruko-chan and Yuuko-chan. We’d flutter our eyelashes and push our cheeks together. I’d whisper in his ear or feel his whisper on my ear. Miko-chan would get red and flustered. God, I don’t want to think of Mikoto when I’m hard!

Tooru got up from his chair and flopped down on Yuujurou’s bed, taking off his hooded top, unzipping his pants, and pulling out his cock. He ran his hand up and down its length. He closed his eyes, and suddenly all he could smell was the scent of Yuujirou—he used a soap with almond and cedar in it, and his shampoo had an almond scent as well. But more than just the odor of his soap, his shampoo, there was that underlying scent that was, well, just Yuujurou. Some of their clothes were identical. Tooru could pick up a dirty t-shirt, and before he looked in at the label inside, he could tell by the scent whose it was—or rather who had worn it last. A few times last year they had mixed up some of their plain black t-shirts by mistake. I shouldn’t be jacking off thinking about laundry, thought Tooru. But now his hand was feeling so good, and he was leaking a little precum, making his hand move more easily. His naked back rocked a little against Yuujirou’s blankets. He turned his head in the pillow, and that scent, that haunting scent filled his nose. Oh god, he was so hard, so hard it felt like his skin was stretching too tight. He should stop and get some lotion—thinking that Tooru spit in his hand and went back to stroking.

The smell of Yuujirou made it seem like he was here in the bed with Tooru, in his bed, his bed where he had laid and jerked himself off with that gorgeous cock of his. Where his nipples had gotten so red, so swollen. Tooru’s other hand crept up to his own little nipple, feeling it oddly solid under his finger, a tiny pepple. He rolled it between his finger to try to sense how it was different from normal, and the sensation made him jerk with pleasure. Shit! He’d lived with these nipples all his life and never known that touching them could feel that good! His fingers moved over his nipple again, harder—and he shuddered and let out a little moan. Oh god, this is what Yuujirou must have done to get his nipples so red, so hard! He lay here doing this, pinching them, rolling them with one hand! And that other, that one with a fist full of reddened cock—oh yes, yes, that cock, that cock with the gold hair, those gold curls, his other hand had slid over that cock, brushed those curls. Right here on these blue blankets now against his own back, the blonde had done all that. Right here, he had cried out “Tooru” and shot his cum up in the air, so powerfully. His hand had moved like this, just like this. If he was here stroking me, thought Tooru, this is what it would feel like—oh God, I’m going to come, I’m going to come right here in his bed, just like he did—Ahhhhhh!

Tooru felt his balls tighten, and the image of Yuujirou’s face as he came appeared in his mind, and then he was blowing—the sperm spraying out—arching up, blasting out—one jet, then another, then another. Dear God, so intense! Had he ever come like that before? God, oh god. He convulsed and shook, and another bit of cum came out in a small plop, falling directly down on his stomach. Cripes, that was the sort of orgasm he usually had, and he was having one of those as a sort of aftershock to the big trembler! Panting, Tooru lay there just enjoying the feelings fading in his body, the sweet exhaustion that sweeping over him. Smiling he slid into sleep, his cock, belly, chest, and chin sticky with his splattered sperm.


It was two hours earlier than when Yuujirou expected to walk back to the dorm. But his little brother had gotten sick at dinner—feverish, complaining, clearly looking ill. They had barely eaten any of the food before deciding dinner was over and separating with kisses and hugs. Looking up at the window of his and Tooru’s room, Yuujirou was surprised to see it dark. Only a few windows were lit—most of students were still out with family or friends at some of the evening events or for a dinner at a local restaurant. Others were cleaning up their club’s display or booth. But Tooru had said he wanted to work on those math problems as he had refused to come to dinner with Yuujirou and his family. Maybe he had gone to bed? He didn’t seem to be sleeping well since they had gotten back from summer vacation just a week ago.

Yuujirou opened the door to their room quietly, not turning on the light. A little light from the hall spilled into the room. He could see Tooru’s green hooded shirt thrown on the floor between their desks and bunkbeds. Wow—that wasn’t like Tooru—he must have been really tired to be so messy! He listened carefully—yes, Tooru was sleeping—he could hear his deep breathing. Shutting the door behind him quietly, Yuujirou crept to the closet and got his bucket with his bathing supplies, his towel, and a t-shirt and pair of gym shorts to sleep in. He’d get ready for bed, then he’d use his flashlight to read in bed. He had two chapters of history he needed to get through, and he wasn’t tired.

When he got back to the room, he managed to put up his bucket, towel, and dirty clothes in the dark. Remembering Tooru’s shirt, he went over and groped for it on the floor. When he found it, he couldn’t help but bring it up to his face. It smelled of Tooru—oh, god, Tooru, beautiful Tooru! He was still more beautiful than this year’s princesses despite being older, taller, and a bit more muscular. Somehow, he seemed even prettier than last year to Yuujirou despite his body’s changes. His legs were longer, his skin still hairless, so white and soft—yes, soft. He’d only touched his arm, his cheek—there had been a little bit of leaf there—but that white skin had felt as soft as it had last year. Last year—when he’d cupped that cheek in his hand, when he’d kissed those pink lips, when he felt Tooru’s heart beating against his. Oh, god, he was hard again—and god, the room, the room seemed to smell of sex—was he hallucinating? Surely his precum didn’t smell that much? Was his cock even wet yet?

Yuujirou slid a hand into his shorts, feeling his cock, running his thumb over the slit. It wasn’t wet, no, oh, maybe a drop now, yes, just a drop. He lifted his hand to his nose and sniffed. No, that wasn’t it—oh, my god, Tooru must have had a woman back to the room and had sex! He had a girlfriend he was hiding! Couldn’t get a girlfriend—yeah, right! He’d had his pick of girls before he’d transferred here, and even his own cousin had gone wacko for him! Yuujirou’s chest hurt, and he felt sick—he sunk down on his bunk and put his hands over his face—no, no, no, he wouldn’t cry. But god, god, the smell was even stronger—he needed to press his face into his pillow, so he couldn’t smell it. Yuujirou let himself flop back on his bed—


Tooru was dreaming. He was naked in bed, blindfolded, and someone was making love to him with their mouth. He could feel hair sliding over his naked body, long hair, but it was the tongue that was driving him mad. It thrust in his ears, his mouth, sucked on his neck, his nipples, dipped into his belly. And he wanted it to go lower, please go lower--lower, lower he begged in the dream—and then, suddenly his lover jumped on him, landing so hard, he gasped out and wrapped his arms around their body, protesting, “God, baby, not so hard!” But it came out muffled and weird because there was hair in his mouth.

His dream lover was heavy and thrashed, turning—and then they kissed again. Tongue to tongue—but god, god, this wasn’t a dream! This was Yuujirou! Oh god, Yuujirou was laying on Tooru’s cum-splattered body! Tooru’s naked cock was rubbing against Yuujirou’s: he could feel its hardness inside some fabric against his own. That long blond hair was falling down around them, and his mouth, oh god, his mouth, his taste, his tongue. This, this was his second kiss, and he was dying. His hand thrust into Yuujirou’s hair, clinging, pulling, tugging, holding on. He was invaded, penetrated, seduced. That tongue was amazing, incredible, unbelievable. Tooru bucked up, thrusting his cock against the warm, hard body above him. And then, like in his dream, that tongue left his mouth, licked over to his ear. The body slid off him, and he let out a cry of loss, but the tongue plunged into his ear, and a hand pinched his nipple. He buckled and shook, crying out with need, and then Yuujirou was sucking on his nipple, and his hand was on Tooru’s throbbing cock! Tooru went wild—he couldn’t stay still! His body shook, he bucked into that fist—oh god, god, god—and then nothing!

“Yuujirou!” Tooru cried out in pain. But before his mind could even start to deal with the horror of Yuujirou finding him half naked, hard, smeared with cum, and rejecting him, dropping him alone on the bed disgusted—he was back on top of Tooru, his cock now naked and pressing against Tooru’s, bare flesh to bare flesh!

“Take my shirt off, Tooru,” ordered Yuujirou. And Tooru’s hands flew to grip the hem of his shirt and tugged it up. And then Yuujirou’s body was pressing down, heavy on his, as the shirt was tugged up over his head. They were kissing again: this time nothing between their chests, nothing between their cocks, and the feeling between their bodies—oh god!

“Tooru! Tooru!” moaned Yuujirou, and Tooru’s body writhed at the sound. He thrust up, his hands roaming Yuujirou’s back, his hair, his naked arms, and then, then, he grasped for the first time in his life a man’s naked ass. His hand grasped those naked buttcheeks, feeling that sexy ass of Yuujirou’s, pulling down that body, forcing their cocks to rub against each other. Oh god, those mounds of flesh, that ass—he was holding, touching, grasping that ass of Yuujirou’s! It was too much—

“YUUJIROU!” cried Tooru as he came, throwing his head back, letting the feelings of his body take over. He was exploding—he was dying—his body was out of control—so much cum, too much cum, too fast, too much, more, more, the pleasure, his lungs were collapsing, his balls were imploding, his cock was splitting apart, he was shooting out every bit of fluid in his body! He knew that because he must be, because he couldn’t just keep coming sperm for so long, coming, coming, dying, draining, deflating, sinking, sinking, shaking—OHHHHHH!

“Tooru, Tooru, Tooru,” Yuujirou was saying his name again and again. Tooru couldn’t focus, couldn’t speak: he was spinning like he’d drunk sake all night. He felt Yuujirou jerk down his pants to his knees, felt his hand on his cock—and then he saw stars and for just a minute thought he was flying—and then he became aware Yuujirou was fucking his thighs. He was getting fucked!

Fucked! Yuujirou was fucking between his legs—for what else could this be called—this rapid, forceful thrusting back and forth between his thighs trapped and held tight together by his pants around his knees? Tooru could feel the head of his cock move between his inner thighs then pop free beneath them as Yuujirou’s balls slapped into his legs—and the cock was moving back and forth, so fast, so frequently. And his pelvis, his hips, his balls were hitting him so hard he might just bruise. Yuujirou was fucking him like an animal! It was the most erotic thing he’d ever experienced, and Tooru’s hands reached up and found those little swollen nubs on Yuujirou’s heaving chest. Yes, his nipples were so hard, and Tooru pinched, pinched as hard as he could, and Yuujirou let out the most beautiful sound Tooru had ever heard. That, that was the sound of passion. Yes, that was what people meant when they said, “a cry of passion”!

And then Yuujirou was coming. Tooru could feel the wetness under his thighs, under his ass, and the feeling of that cum against his asshole, under the edge of his ass and thigh, in the crevice between his asscheeks—Tooru cried out and bucked up into Yuujirou, overwhelmed. They clung to each other, and Tooru felt each of Yuujirou’s shakes and shudders as he spilled his seed into the juncture of Tooru’s thighs and ass. Tooru whimpered as Yuujirou groaned over him, and at last collapsed on him, empty, spent.

No! No! It couldn’t be over—it couldn’t! How could they face what had happened? Tooru’s arms tightened around Yuujirou, and he pushed his head into Yuujirou’s neck, under that blonde hair. His eyes squeezed shut, Tooru clung, unable to face the future, wanting to cling to the now, to this feeling of being sheltered, held, owned. If time would just stop, he wouldn’t have to think, wouldn’t have to confront this—he could just lay here, belonging to Yuujirou, listening to his heartbeat, his breath, feeling his body, his cum. Oh god, oh god! He was lying here like he was Yuujirou’s bitch, Yuujirou’s to fuck and fall on, like he was some girl! No! He had to fight this! But his body was so heavy, so exhausted, and so, so satisfied! He, he would do something, something, yes, he would do something—something, but later, later when he had the strength.

For the second time that night, Tooru slid into sleep after coming, coming harder than he’d ever come before. But it was the first time in his life that Tooru fell asleep under a lover—his first lover, his best friend, his Yuujirou. And in his dreams, Yuujirou made love to him again and again.