Date: Fri, 16 Aug 2002 18:29:51 EDT
From: (Anonymous)
Subject: How To Use Your Queer Roommate

HOW TO USE YOUR QUEER COLLEGE ROOMMATE

by Anonymous

This how-to article is for straight  jocks who are going to be sharing
housing accommodations at a college, university, or prep school. It tells you
how to select your own servant as a "roommate", get  free services and
products, and amuse your buds, all without giving anything in return. It is
written from the queer's point of view to show how easy it is.


CHAPTER ONE : Wherein the queer student finds out the jock expects a servant,
not a roommate

        The door was open when Wes arrived in his prep uniform. His white
oxford shirt was unbuttoned on top  and his dark blue striped rep tie was
loose and the knot pulled down. He walked in, barely acknowledging me as he
strode past. "Hey.... Wes here" was all he said as he passed by me. He didnt
seem much interested in my response. He walked straight over to the bed by
the window and put his suitcase and bags full of gear at the foot of the bed,
fell back on the bed, and kicked his shoes off. He propped a pillow on the
headboard, leaned back with his hands behind his head and surveyed the room.

        It was my first year at ______  but I had already heard about my
roommate. He was a first-semester junior and BMOC. Lacrosse was the most
popular sport at the school and Wes was the star of the team.

    "My stuff gets hung in the closets first, then we'll see how much space
is left for you" he said looking at the double closets with sliding doors. "
And I got a lot of gear, Im gonna need those drawers" he said peering at the
only bureau in the room. "Hey Im thirsty. I wanna coke. You thirsty?" He
undid his rep tie and slid it through the collar. I said "Yeah, I could go
for a coke" not cause I really wanted anything to drink , but I wanted to
agree to anything the jock suggested. "Theres a soda machine down at the end
of the hall," he said. "I'll unpack."

    I went down the hall and had just enough in change to get two cokes from
the machine. How was I ever going to room with this jock stud? I would be
tenting 24 hours a day. And how could I not look when he undressed? Ill tell
him the cokes are on me, I thought, hoping to get off to a good start.

    When I came back Wes had his suitcase and bags open and was hanging his
prep suit in the closet. He had stripped down to his boxers , socks , and
unbuttoned shirt. His legs were solid muscle from years of playing sports.

        I opened a coke and handed it to Wes."Put the other can over there"
he said jutting his chin toward the desk by the bed he had chosen. "I might
want it later on." I almost said something but I figured it was best not to
point out that the second coke was supposed to be mine. Maybe he thought I
had got more than two cokes from the machine. Anyway, he wasnt offering to
pay for any of them.

        "Not on the wood" he said in an irritated voice. "Get something out
of my black bag there and put it under the can so it doesnt make a ring on
the desk." He went back to hanging up his chinos and oxford shirts.

        There were several sports bags, all open. As I got down to look in
the black one to see what I could use for  an improvised coaster I caught a
musty sweaty smell. Later I found out why--its the bag Wes uses to transport
his dirty jocks, briefs, tees and sweat socks from working out or after
practice and games. I got close enuf to get a full whiff of the ripe
sweatsocks and jockstraps. I wanted to get down real close and smell it but
of course I didnt want let on I was queer so I grabbed the first thing on the
top of the heap. It was a stained white handkerchief  crumpled and stiff.
Damn! it was a fuckin cumrag! I put it on the desk and smoothed it out as
much as I could and put the coke can on it.  Did he know that I had pulled
his cumrag out, did he think it was on purpose, would he realize he had a fag
for a roommate? But he was still busy hanging up clothes as was ignoring me.

        "The stuff in the red bag goes in the drawers" said Wes pulling
sweaters out of a duffle bag. He said it like a matter of fact order someone
from a wealthy family (like his) used  for instructions to the poolboy or the
gardener. "OK" I said under the pretext of just being helpful.

        Evidently Wes didnt mind asking me--telling me really--to handle his
personal stuff. As I went through the red bag and put the gear in the drawers
I imagined how Wes would look in each jersey , jockstrap, tee and tank top.
There were lots of worn faded sweatpants and sweatshirts and I was getting
hard just feeling the soft material that had been against his athletic body
so many times while he was running and sweating.

        "Saturday is laundry day." Wes said it not like a casual comment
about when HE did the laundry but like telling hired help when to DO the
laundry. He closed the empty suitcase and put it against the wall in the
closet using up even more space. There wasnt much room left for my clothes.

        He took out his cell phone. "Personal call" he said. It was like he
didnt know or care how rude he was. It was like the dorm room was his place
and I was just supposed to leave. "Uh, ok.." I said as he punched in a speed
dial. He looked up at me like he didnt understand why I was still there. He
jerked his thumb toward the open door. As I closed the door behind me I heard
him say "Hey Chris... whats the plans for Friday?"

        I didnt know where to go really, I figured the call would be short
and he would let me know when he was finished so I just hung out  in the
hall. Other guys were moving in and gave quizzical looks wondering what I was
doing just standing in front of a closed door.

        After about 5 minutes the door opened. Wes said "Hey" and motioned
with his head for me to get inside. His tone of voice and curt gesture were
the kind of commands he was used to giving. I was sure he had forgotten my
name if he ever bothered to listen to it in the first place. He had been
keeping me waiting while he changed into jeans and sneakers, no socks. He
wasnt wearing a  shirt either and I felt my dick swelling as I looked at his
full chest, strong arms and hard belly. His bare torso made a V shape down to
his slim waist. I tried to take it all in , nipples, treasure trail, navel
right above the waist of the levis, sturdy neck , Wes was like the esence of
Man like those statues in ancient greece come to life. He reminded me of this
one statue in the book from last semester, a  perfect face and body of an
athlete about 19 like Wes, every muscle defined as he prepares to throw the
discus. I got so fuckin hard when I looked at that picture and now here he
was in the flesh.

    "Sit down" he said pointing to the bed he had assigned me.

    Wes sat beside me and I could feel the warmth radiating from his body ,
the bare skin of his chest glowed. I glanced down and noticed how his thighs
filled out the levis. His expression was a bit serious and I wondered why he
was actually going to talk to me and what about.  "Im here on a sports
scholarship," he began as if he had prepared a short speech and was trying
hard to remember it.  "See its a good thing for the university if I play
cause Im their MVP and if I dont play they dont win the championship." He
said this not with any particular pride but just as if it were a fact that
everybody knew but that he had to patiently explain. "So its good for the
university" he repeated, summing up and emphasizing the importance of school
spirit in this whole thing.

        Wes leaned back a little and cupped his balls. I looked out of the
corner of my eye. His hand was definitely around his balls. Just seeing a
straight jock do that makes me want to get on my knees. "I hear you are real
good at classes, get straight A's" , he asked. I said yeah, suspecting what
Wes seemed to be suggesting in a crude manner. "I never been real academic"
he continued, "Im into sports, not reading books and writing papers and shit.
But I have to maintain a C average to play for the university."

    "Maybe I can help" I said trying my best to sound casual as I looked at
Wes's hand on the bulge in the smooth faded jeans. "For the good of the
school," I added. "Yeah, yeah!" said Wes as if this idea had never occurred
to him. "You know , for the school. I gotta be here to win the championship.
So I will give you assignments and you write papers and shit. Good, then its
all settled." He took his hand away from his crotch. Meeting ended. What was
I was getting out of this deal? Simple, I wanted this straight jock to be my
roomate so I could admire his body and fantasize about sucking his cock.


CHAPTER TWO, in which the jock lays down some rules for the queer

        Wes easily accomplished what he wanted to get from me. Somehow I had
just jumped into an arrangement where I was to do this guy's classwork and
for nothing more than the privilege of sitting beside him for a few seconds
while he was shirtless with his hand on his crotch.

        This much I knew, for a dumb jock Wes had figured out from the first
time he saw me that I was queer and wanted to get in his jock. He must have
got scoped by so many fags he could read a queer like a,,,,, well, I was
going to say like a book, but Wes couldnt finish  a paragraph in Sport
Illustrated before his mind began to wander back to fucking pussy. Looking
back, I realized that he had planned things, letting me see him walk around
in his boxers, getting me to find his cumrag and put his sports gear away,
sitting beside me on the bed. Maybe he wasnt so dumb when it came to using
queers.

        Having abruptly sealed the deal on his terms, he pulled on a tee
shirt and left without another word. I started putting my stuff away. It was
obvious that Wes was so used to getting his way that he didnt bother asking
me to do anything but just assumed I would do what he wanted and what he
said.

        There wasnt much space left in the closet and I had to jampack most
of my clothes onto one pole. I say MOST because the space left was no way
enough for everything. But Wes had every drawer in the bureau stuffed with
his gear. I piled some more clothes from a carry bag into what was left in
the suitcase, making the suitcase so full it was hard to close. I put it
under the bed that Wes had decreed was mine. I figured I would have to store
half my clothes this way.

        Then there were Wes's shoes. Two pairs of black leather dress shoes,
the kind that he wore on dates and when he visited his family and had to wear
a suit. Five pairs of sneaks, from brand new to funky, not including the Keds
he had on when he left.  And boots that he wore for the country and tramping
around in muddy parks and pickup football roughhousing sessions with his jock
buds. I only had two pairs of sneaks, and it looked like I would have to keep
them under my bed beside the suitcase.

I looked over at the desk that Wes had claimed, much larger and more
comfortable than the one he had decided was mine. I wanted to touch his
cumrag again and smell his cock and balls on the dirty sportsgear in the
black bag but I didnt know if he was out for a long time or coming back in a
minute. Even though the door was locked we each had a key of course and  I
couldnt risk him barging in while my face was buried in his dirty jockstraps.

He had also made me so hot and turned on that I wanted to get off fantasizing
about blowing him. I couldnt get his muscular body and handsome features out
of my mind. Instead I started to make out my class schedule and prepare for
the courses I was taking. I wanted to do a good job my first semester. After
about an hour I started to nod off so I stripped to my briefs and took a nap.

    "HEY" . At first I thought I was dreaming but then a switch flipped and
the lights in the room came on as I opened my eyes. Wes was standing inside
the door by the light switch. I thought maybe  he had decided my name was
"Hey" but it was more like I didnt have a name as far as he was concerned ,,,
which was not at all.

    He closed the door behind him and walked over to his desk, not caring
about rudely waking me. "You let my fuckin coke get warm" he said holding up
the can. "Sorry" I mumbled automatically, still half asleep, as though it was
my duty to keep it cold after I bought it for myself and he took it for
himself.

    "You got to get a few things straight," he began, holding the can up like
a sports trophy he had just won. "First of all keep your goddamn pants on
when Im around." I quickly sat up and found my jeans on the floor. "Second of
all" he continued while I hastily pulled my jeans over my hardon, "keep my
drinks in the fridge in the kitchen." I had no idea where that was. "And
third of all show respect to an upperclassman, freshman."

    "I didnt mean to be disrespectful, I was just...."  Wes interrupted me.
"I said SHOW respect . Theres a difference. Not putting my drinks in the
fridge is just disrespectful, thats not allowed. But freshmen are allowed to
show respect to me in certain ways." He rolled the can across the floor in my
direction. "Kitchen is down the hall." He started to undress.

     As I searched for the kitchen--Wes hadnt bothered to tell me which
direction it was--I wondered what he meant by allowing freshman to show
respect "in certain ways." He meant something more than writing his papers or
following his orders--by now I had learned that that stuff was just expected.
Showing respect, that was evidently something more. That whole idea gets a
queer excited.

    After a few wrong turns I found the small kitchen that was used by
everyone on the floor, and put the coke in the fridge. When I got back Wes
was in bed, his clothes in a heap where he had taken them off. "Lights out "
he ordered. "And dont forget " he said turning over in bed, "Saturday is
laundry day so pick up my clothes." There wasnt any doubt any longer-- I
would be doing Wes's laundry every week.

    I flipped off the lights, leaving the room in semi-darkness, and picked
up his jeans, still warm from his body. His tee shirt was slightly damp under
the arms and there was a wet spot in the middle of the chest. There werent
any shorts. He either didnt wear any, or he kept them on when he got into
bed. I moved as quietly as I could, smelling the scent of Wes's sweat as I
stuffed his jeans and tee in my own empty clothes bag. That would have to do
as a laundry bag.

    I glanced over at Wes. He was under the sheets, his back to me and
motionless. He might not be asleep yet. But I had to risk it. His Keds were
still on the floor and I remembered that he went out without any socks on. I
knelt beside the sneaks. They had seen a lot of wear. The white had become
grayish and there were scuff marks around the edges. I put my hand under the
sole of one and picked it up.  The canvas had  softened and molded to the
shape of Wes's foot. The laces were frayed on the ends. I  brought it up to
my face and sniffed in the smell that old sneakers have, musty and ripe. I
put my nose in the sneak and stayed there smelling Wes's sweaty feet smell,
my hand on the bottom of the shoe that touched the ground where Wes walked.
My hardon pressed against the shorts and jeans that Wes told me I was to
wear. I  was leaking pre.

    I was so startled by the rustling sheets that I nearly dropped the
sneaker. I quickly looked over at Wes. He was still motionless with his back
to me. He started to snore softly. I carefully lined up the Keds next to his
desk. Then I saw the cumrag still lying there. Impulsively I took it and
snuck to bed. I got under the sheets as quietly as I could. If Wes was awake
before me I couldnt get out of bed in shorts only. That would be disrespect
to an upperclassman. So I had to keep my jeans on. That way a jock doesnt
ever have to see the queer get hard for him.

    I pulled my jeans and briefs over my hips and started to jack off slowly
so I didnt make any noise. Wes was still snoring softly. Now I could get a
good smell of Wes's cumrag.  I pressed the crumpled handkerchief up against
my face and breathed in the smell from the dried cumstains. I was so hot from
smelling a jock that it only took a few seconds for me to cum. I spurted a
big load into the cumrag and held it back up to my face. My fresh wet cum
soaked into the stiff cum that Wes had shot   days before. I stuffed the
handkerchief in the pouch of my briefs and pulled them up. The wet sticky rag
clung to my balls  but I could still feel the drier areas from Wes's
cumstains against my softening dick. Then I pulled up my jeans and zipped up
pressing my cock and balls up against the cumrag lay back feeling the
jockboys semen stains against my skin like he had just jacked off in my
pants.


To be continued in CHAPTER THREE, methods for keeping the queer under your
thumb

CHAPTER THREE, in which the jock teaches new lessons in respect and obedience
to the queer