Date: Fri, 24 Dec 2010 21:26:03 -0800 (PST)
From: K K <hard_yo_leven@yahoo.com>
Subject: Rooming Blind 1

[Any resemblance to actual people or events is coincidental; this is entirely a
work of fiction.]

I decided to room blind when I signed up for a dorm as a senior in high school.
I met my roommate Cody for lunch a couple weeks before we moved in together.
First impression was not good. He seemed like a total douche. T-shirt with
angsty music logo, baggy cargo shorts, floppy hair. But he surprised me. We
became fast friends that fall, rearranging the heavy dorm furniture and hating
on his crude friends from high school who occasionally hung around.

A couple of weeks into the semester I heard him jacking off one night long after
we'd gone to bed. I think he thought I was asleep. But the sound of that slick
repetition made me so hard. After a minute or so, he sped up and I heard him
inhale sharply. He stopped and the sound of kleenex scraping out of the box was
surprisingly loud. My own cock was straining against my boxer briefs. I had to
take care of it.

I turned from the wall towards his lofted bed and shoved the sheet aside. I
pulled the waistband of my underwear beneath my balls and started jerking off. I
was breathing loudly and felt some kind of exhibitionist daring I'd never felt
before. I made sure he could hear what was happening across the room. That
turned me on a little. A few minutes later I came. Explosively. I couldn't help
it. A single grunt escaped me, and I heard a soft splat as my cum hit the
hardwood floor beneath my loft. I cleaned myself up and fell asleep, still hard.

The next morning I made sure I was up before Cody, but the mess on the floor was
already gone. I either couldn't find it, or he'd gotten down from his loft in
the night.

The bedtime jack-off with lights out became a routine. Every night for the two
and a half months. We never talked about it, or even admitted it. One night
after an episode of "The Sopranos" we went four times, each of us in our own
beds in the dark. Another time we had been drinking, and instead of the usual
quiet, we were both groaning with every breath in time, in, out. When I finally
came, I yelled, "Fuck!" A minute later when we were cleaning ourselves up, Cody
said, "I know, man. Right?" Somehow things were never weird because it was as
though those nighttime indiscretions didn't even happen.

Cody always talked about Eva Longoria and this fox Erin who lived down the hall
and seriously could have been model. After one screed about Erin's perfect
breasts and how she never wore bras he said, "Yeah, that's what I think about.
You know...when..." He smiled with one side of his mouth.

Cody got a girlfriend: Kelli. They met in a seminar. She's really great, and
they're still my close friends. But she did toy with him sometimes.

He was quite athletic in high school (he was his high school team's
quarterback), but had gone to seed a little. Kelli made him self-conscious about
that, and he wanted to get back in shape, so he and I started lifting and
running. Once they started sleeping together the routine changed---no more
nighttime jerk-offs for him. We would work out hard for an hour and a half
before we got ready for bed. We'd shower, and he'd spend the night in her
single. I'd spend the night in our double. The few nights he stayed in our room,
there was no jerking off. I guess he had all his needs taken care of. Or was
saving up.

Kelli had moods. The first one, about a month after they started dating, lasted
a week. He was sleeping in our room again. By day three, the jacking off had
resumed. By day six, we were going four times in an hour and I was feeling raw.

On day seven, after lifting, he beat me in our sprint back the to dorm---for the
first time. I was surprised and a little embarrassed. Instead of waiting for me
at the door, he let it lock behind him and went up to the room and got in the
shower. When I got back to our room to grab my shower stuff and take off my
running shoes and put them on the entrance mat next to his size 13's, he was
already in the shower. By the time I'd showered and got back to the room, his
six-foot frame was sprawled on the couch watching "Scrubs". He was in his
boxers. Both of these things surprised me, since we're both pretty modest and he
always complained about "Scrubs" whenever it was on. The exercise had paid off:
I could see his abs under scruff on his belly as he leaned across the arm of the
couch. His shoulders and biceps swelled a little and I could see two symmetrical
veins that ran across each shoulder and bicep. He had big areolas and hard
nipples.

"Going over to Kelli's?" I asked, tentatively.

"No."

Which meant I put on underwear under my long maroon basketball shorts. We'd be
up for a while and I didn't want my cock flopping around. I put on a tight black
T-shirt and flip-flops and put Tanqueray, tonic, and ice in two glasses. I don't
what it was in me, but I put nearly twice as much gin in his. I handed him a
drink and collapsed at the other end of the couch.

"Damn. The middle of my back is still stiff from yesterday," I said, reaching
forward to stretch.

He stared at my back and shoulders. "I love that," he said. Meaning residual
soreness, I guessed. "Strong drink," he said.

He looked up at me, and just kept looking. We both became aware of how long he
held it. Things were weird for the first time, and he look away quickly, into
his lap. I followed his gaze and saw a mound in his lap that was so clearly his
soft dick. We both thought of the hundreds of times we'd cum just a few feet
from each other, moaning loudly.

"Things with Kelli suck right now."

After a second or two, I said, "Yeah, that happens."

We turned back to the TV for nearly a minute. I was getting a little concerned
about the recent nighttime escalation. I was feeling kind of drained, and knew I
couldn't cum four times. I blurted, without thinking, "I don't know if I can go
five times."

"What?" He looked at me, startled. And then he grinned and ran his tongue over
an eye tooth. "Once?" The mound in his lap was growing out along his waist, and
he was starting to tent a little.

I shrugged, not knowing exactly what he meant.

He turned up the TV and stood up, facing me. He had no hips, and with the
smallest shove his boxers slid to the ground. I know I'm big, but he was bigger.
His cut cock stood out from a trimmed bush and low, bare balls.

After a long moment, I said, "Quite a dick."

"Near eight inches." He pursed his lips and gave me a contrived sassy look. I
smiled and he laughed. He sat back down, in the middle of the couch, right next
to me. I could smell soap, his deodorant, and the musk of someone who'd just
been running. He let one tired arm fall limp at his side, the other across my
back, and he looked straight into my eyes. His legs were spread wide, and his
balls rested easily on the couch. For some reason, I thought of all the things
that must have happened on that couch over the years---to that poor, old couch.

In one quick motion I grabbed the base of his dick and pulled my hand hard up
over the head.

"Fuck! No lube!" he said as he tensed and gripped the couch on the other side of
his leg.

"What? Who needs lube to jerk-off?" I said, thinking of how easy it was to mess
around with my own uncut cock.

"Don't tell me you pre-cum that much!" he said incredulously.

I squinted at him quizzically. Without another word, he grabbed my forearm and
pulled it to his face. He licked his lips and ran his tongue from my wrist along
my thumb and up my index finger, pushing them deep into his mouth. Then he held
my hand flat and spit in the center of my palm. He put my hand gently on his
cockhead.

I squeezed hard and gave it a fast pump up and down. His head remained pretty
small but the rest swelled in the middle. His dick felt huge and overheated in
my hand. It took on the shape of very fat cigar. My fingers could just close
around it.

"Fuck," he said.

I ran my fist along his shaft over and over, sometimes clenching, sometimes
barely touching him. He started leaking a lot of pre-cum, which gradually
lubricated the entire top of his dick as his spit dried. He started breathing in
time each time I pulled up, and his balls started to pull up off the couch in
time with my pumping.

He stopped my arm.

"Hey, what about you?"

I swallowed and leaned back over the arm of the couch, facing him. He slipped a
hand under my tight shirt and felt along my abs to a nipple. I raised my hands
over my head and he took off my shirt. I am pretty ripped. He traced the clefts
between my ab muscles as he bit his lower lip.

He grabbed the waistband of my shorts and boxer briefs on either side of my hips
and pulled them down past my knees. My own dick, exactly seven uncut inches,
stuck straight up, its big round head half-exposed and pulsing beneath my
foreskin.

"God," he said, transfixed, "Fuck. You're uncut." He licked his lips and
swallowed. It struck me that he might never have seen an uncut dick, all those
years of Jewish summer camps, dozens of circumcised high schoolers changing into
trunks and showering after pick up games.

He dived onto my cock. His tongue swirled underneath my foreskin and he leaned
in, hard. My dick went straight into his throat, his nose in my pubes, his groan
buzzing in my belly.

"Fuck!"

I grabbed his curly hair and held him down. He opened his mouth and reached his
lips further down my shaft, trying to get more of me, gulping desperately for
air through his nose.

He moved up and down on my head a few times with his throat, and I could feel
myself swelling, beginning to tense.

I tensed my arm, and gripped his hair. He stopped sliding up and down my dick
and looked into my eyes, his lips still pushed out of shape around the tip of my
head.  I slowly pulled his head toward my lips, and said, "Spit?" He bit is his
lower lip again. "...Or swallow?"

He gritted his teeth and said in a low growl, "I want your load. But in my ass.
So hard."

We both stood up and he kissed me, hands on my skull. I grabbed his waist and
pressed him into my dick, and I could feel our shafts grinding. I pushed him
towards the bed and laid him down across the short width of a twin, grabbing his
ankles. His feet were big. I looked down him, along his hole, his cock, his
belly, his mouth. My dick was so hard I thought it would break with every
heartbeat.

I pressed against his asshole and leaned towards his mouth. His eyes bulged and
he gave me an inscrutable look that slowly faded to a blank stare as slid so
slowly further, further into his hairy, extremely tight ass.


He whispered, "I've wanted this so long..."

I started pumping gradually deeper and deeper. He groaned with every stroke and
pushed into me, his arms straining against the wall above his head. His groans
got louder and louder.

By the time my balls were slapping against his soft ass, he was grunting so
loudly I was sure someone from the floor or the RA would come knocking. His
erection was huge and rock hard, his balls pulled tight against his body. I
could feel his calves, still overwarm from running, in my hands as I pounded
against him.

He yelled, "You fill me up!" He grabbed my ass low and I could feel his fingers
on my asshole as he pull my vibrating dick deep inside and I started pumping,
cumming. I could feel the surge of cum flow into him and he pulled against my
lower back, shoulders, hugged me, kissing deep.

"Harder!" he whispered in my ear. I felt my hips slapping and pounding against
him. He groaned and I felt his cock and ass squeezing.

It turns out he is a really big cummer. I had never actually seen him blow
before: It spewed up over his chest and hit my chest and neck and both our jaws.

After a few seconds, I collapsed on him, still inside him. I felt my semen ooze
down my balls, his own cum spreading along our chests and torsos, filling any
gaps.