Not with that boner, he isn't.

The tongue problem solved, Chris set his jaw, determined to face this like he did all his problems: head-on. He immediately regretted doing it as the pressure on his lips sent shivers through his body. Once again, he had to virtually wrench his hands away from their path to lips, nipples, cock... all tingling and throbbing with desire, begging to be touched.

But he would not give in. Not again. His body was betraying him, making him do things, changing, but Chris wouldn't lose. Balling his fists tightly, he squeezed his eyes shut and began reciting the Spanish vocabulary he had been learning at college, trying to ignore the unmistakable signals his body sent him. But no matter how much his most sensitive parts screamed 'touch me!', Chris focused all his will into overcoming the overwhelming lust threatening to swallow him.

And slowly but surely, it worked. With the same stubborn determination that had carried him through college so far, Chris managed to push the relentless arousal down until it boiled at the edge of his consciousness, ever present, but manageable. With the immediate problem solved, or rather postponed, the surfer could finally move on to his soiled pants. After having cum inside them several times, Chris felt rather disgusted by their state and quickly undressed, throwing the reeking garment into the hamper. Gritting his teeth, he hopped under the shower to clean himself, taking special care not to touch his body at all, completely ignoring his body wash; lathering up was out of the question. Luckily, his juices hadn't dried enough to need scrubbing, coming off under the spray of the shower. Less luckily, said spray provided ample stimulation, and Chris had to direct it away several times when he cleaned his sensitive bosom or his half-hard dick.

When he finally felt clean, Chris stepped out of the shower, toweling himself off as roughly as possible in the hopes of keeping the lustful stimulus to a minimum. Finally dry, Chris wrapped a towel around his waist - and realized that this wasn't working. His tits, sitting proudly on his chest, were on full display like this! Already the surfer felt his cock and nipples stiffening involuntarily at the sight in the mirror, and only a supreme effort of will made him wrench his eyes away to hurry into his room, boobs jiggling with every step.

Breathing a sigh of relief when he entered his room without running into Steve, Chris rummaged through his dresser to find something to wear. In the end, he settled for cargo shorts and a shirt, finding himself wishin it was winter: His breasts lifted the guy-cut shirt away from his body, baring his midriff, nipples very visible through the fabric. Still, it was better than walking around naked, even if the fabric chafed a little on his sensitive, stiffened nubs.

Now clean and clothed, Chris faced another dilemma: He couldn't stay holed up in his room, only his out-of-control libido as company. That was a battle he was bound to lose in time. No, he needed something to keep his mind of things. Maybe he could go out drinking, just like when studying got too much? No, better not. Who knew whose dick he would be sucking after the second or third beer? The thought of gobbling down cocks made Chris drool, his lips tingling in anticipation. Catching himself, he squeezed his eyes shut.

"No. I am not giving in!" Chris whispered to himself, fists closed tightly until he had calmed down. Finally, after taking a deep breath, he made a decision. He would...