The Music Major's Top Turn On

Plains, January 2017

First day of the semester.  A day of anticipation and dread.  Will my new classes be a pleasure or a pain? Which students will be eager to participate?  Which will be taciturn?

But today I'm feeling a little off:  I got no sleep last night, and somehow I pulled a muscle doing bicep curls, of all things.

Plus I'm teaching an overload this semester, so it's class nonstop all morning, with no breaks.  I have to dash out to get lunch and eat it in my office during my office hours.

It's exactly noon, and very crowded at the Student Union Food Court.  I get into the line at the Grille for my regular lunch of chicken, vegetables, and a fountain drink.

The line moves sideways, cafeteria-style.  The guy next to me turns and smiles.

"It's my first time here.  Is it any good?"

He's a student, taller than me and rather stocky, wearing a brown sweater and jeans, but no coat.  Reddish-brown hair, short reddish-brown beard, blue eyes.  Reminds me of Alan the Pentecostal Porn Star, my friend in West Hollywood..

"Sure.  I eat here almost every day.  The grilled chicken and brown rice is pretty healthy."

"I'm Wagner[not his real name].  I just started in the graduate school."

This is weird.  You don't speak in line except to complain about the weather, and you certainly don't introduce yourself to someone you'll be standing next to for only about 30 seconds.   You stare at the food, or look at your cell phone.

He's from Bemidji, Minnesota, studying for Master of Music degree, concentration in music theory.

That's why he isn't wearing a coat -- the Performing Arts Building links directly to the Student Union.

He gets my name, my department, where I'm from (I say California), and where there's a good coffee house in town.  Curt, one-word answers.

I'm turned off by his over-friendliness.  Is it that weird "Minnesota nice"?

Wagner's order arrives.  He pays as I give my order.  I expect him to vanish, but he waits for me to finish, and then asks "Where are you sitting?"

Walking away, I tell him.  "I have to get back.  Office hours."

"Ok...nice chatting," I hear in the distance.

I'm starting to feel guilty.  The poor guy probably doesn't know anyone, he's in an unfamiliar city far from home on the coldest day of the year,  he reaches out, and gets Attitude.  I should have been nicer.

It wouldn't hurt to have lunch with him....

I turn and go back to the cafeteria.  There are rows of tables in the front, and some booths in the back.  Wagner is sitting at one of the booths, with three other guys....

He looks up quizzically.  I wave and go through the side door.

Ok, not lonely.  Was he cruising me?

I get cruised by twinks all the time -- I was cruised in a crazy retro restaurant in Indianapolis a couple of weeks ago, and ended up with a New Year's Eve date --  but usually it's the soft, cuddly, passive types.  Wagner is a bit older, stockier, bearded, aggressive.

Besides, I can't attract men with face alone, at least not recently.  My physique draws the attention, and today I'm wearing a bulky coat that hides everything.

I return to my office. Office hours, class, gym (lots of shirtless guys playing basketball!), snack, class.

At 8:00 pm I'm finally ready to go home, have dinner, watch Netflix, and fall asleep.  The route that involves the least amount of time outside in the cold goes through the Student Union and Performing Arts to the north parking lot.

Besides, you can usually find some cute theater majors hanging around in the Performing Arts lounge.

And music majors?

I go into the lounge, pretending that I want to buy a soda from the machine.  Sure enough, there's Wagner, sitting by himself, working on a laptop.

"Hi!" he exclaims, scooting over so I can sit next to him.  "How was your day?"

Almost exactly 24 hours later, Wagner is in my bedroom, going down on me.  He has a firm physique with big nipples and a belly, very furry -- there's even hair on his shoulders.  Nice tongue action.

When I finish, we climb into bed.  I wrap my arms around him.  He lays his head on my chest.

"You have the most spectacular chest I've ever seen," he murmurs.  "You must go to the gym every day."

"Just about."  I move to go down on his very thick beer-can of a penis.   "Question, though.  When we met, I was wearing a bulky coat, so you couldn't see my physique.  What did you find attractive?   Are you into older guys?"

"Well, yes, but that wasn't it.  I get approached by older guys all the time.  Most of them are just pathetic, so needy."

"So...just out of curiosity."

"Your voice," he says.  "Great basso profundo.  I figured you for a music professor."

That's a new one.  

"Most gay guys go to the ballet to cruise bulges," Wagner continues.  "I go to the opera to cruise voices."

 I do have a deep voice, but I can't hold a note.

Fortunately, he doesn't ask me to demonstrate.  My mouth is occupied elsewhere.

See also: Cruised by the Waiter in a Crazy Retro Restaurant; First Day of Class Beefcake and Bulges.