Newsgroups: alt.sex.masturbation Organization: University of Illinois at Urbana
There were some previous posts on this topic a couple weeks ago, but my network connection went down before I could reply.
Out of my many college roommates, there have been two whose masturbation habits interested me and who left enough evidence lying around to satisfy (and magnify) my curiosity.
Part 1 of 2: ROOMMATE #1--"J" Shortly before we began sharing an apartment, we spent a week together at a conference. We were housed three people to a dorm room (one rollaway bed set up in the space between the two beds normally in the room). The beds were no more than two or three feet apart. Each morning, as J got out of bed with at least a partial boner, I could clearly see its outline in his sweats. J's normal routine was to walk over to the closet, wrap his towel around his waist, and then slip off his sweats and underwear. But on one morning near the end of the week, J uncharacteristically stood in the middle of the room and removed his sweats and underwear BEFORE putting on his towel. He wasn't rock hard, but it was still standing about 45 degrees away from his legs and still pretty big. The glimpse I caught probably lasted only a second or two, but it was permanently seared into my memory. That night, after J and our 3rd roommate went to sleep, I quietly masturbated in my bed in the middle of the room, not three feet from two other guys. It was explosive, partly because of what I had seen that morning and partly because it had been over a week since I had had a moment alone to take care of business (I still wasn't alone, but I couldn't last any longer); the whole left half of my underwear and shorts were soaked, and I was intensely aware next morning that I could still smell the semen as I removed my stiffening underwear and tried to find somewhere to hide them in my suitcase.
Motivated partly by guilt (I came from a pretty conservative background, as did J) and partly by the thought that my confession might bring a similar confession from J, later that day I confided in J that I couldn't seem to keep from masturbating (although I didn't tell him that I had done it in the same room with him the previous night!). As all of the statistics would predict, J confessed that he had the same "problem." Now I knew (as if it wasn't already obvious that virtually any male in the world would say the same thing), and it was only a matter of time before I could find out more details. How often? Where? What sort of techniques? My first clue came when, before school started, I stayed at J's house for a weekend to go to a friend's wedding. I went through J's laundry basket and found a pair of underwear (tighty-whiteys) bonded to a pair of flannel shorts by a yellowed stain in the left front panel. Yes! Now I knew that J wasn't going to thwart my curiosity by always jacking off in the shower and washing all the evidence down the drain.
We had 3 people in our 2 bedroom apartment, so J and I shared a room. We had bunkbeds. I started routinely inspecting J's laundry basket to try to figure out his patterns. To my surprise, I only found stained underwear about once a week, with an occasional extra pair just before something stressful, such as a big test or a job interview. It was unusual for me to last two days without going at it, so I initially suspected that I must not be finding everything. But J's loads of semen were usually so big that I finally concluded he was really doing it only about once a week. I continued to check out the laundry and eventually determined that J typically masturbated on a weekend morning while I was in the shower. He almost always shot off directly into what he wore to bed, which was usually tighty-whiteys plus a pair of cut off sweats or flannel boxers over them [he was actually quite modest, and I seldom saw even the bulge of his boner during a whole year as roommates--and never again his bare flesh, not even soft :-( ], and he would always change to a different pair of shorts the night after he shot off. When I knew J hadn't masturbated for a few days, I would quietly reach into the bathroom as soon as he got in the shower and pull out his underwear so that--if this had been the day--I could get them while the semen was still wet. I didn't dare keep them long enough to masturbate, fearing that J would finish his shower and find his underwear gone. Occasionally, J would use a sock. I figured this out one morning when I came back to our room to get dressed after my shower. J got out of bed, pulled the sheets up (which was unusual), and walked to the bathroom--wearing only one sock! As soon as he was in the shower, I pulled down his sheets and found a sock injected with fresh semen. Knowing that I could hear the shower turn off before J returned, I added my own load to his sock, and when I put it back in his bed, I left it sticking out of the sheets slightly, hoping that J would see it and wonder whether I had seen it, or maybe even say something to me. He didn't.
J was pretty uptight about masturbating anyway, plus I think that he thought he should quit because he was getting married in a few months, so I don't think he ever really learned anything more than a quick two minute "jerk jerk spurt" sort of technique, shooting it into his shorts where it was sort of out-of-sight, out-of-mind. I always wished I could know what would happen if he would really go at it sometime, building him self up slowly and then backing off, over and over, until he finally exploded everything he'd saved up for a week as far as he could across his washboard abs and strong chest (or beyond). My fantasy was to walk back into the room just as he shot off and watch him soak his face, neck, and chest with wads of the semen which had always been soaked into a pair of underwear by the time I found it. But I honestly don't think he ever did anything like that. Nonetheless, even his quickie technique summoned up some pretty big loads; I still remember the two biggest loads I ever found of J's. Once, much to my disappointment, I didn't find it before it dried. I knew it had been a while since J had done it, so I was checking his laundry pretty regularly. I came back from the shower, and I noticed when J got out of bed that he was wearing a pair of boxers that he had worn a few days ago, not the ones he wore to bed. (It was unusual for J to have worn only boxers to bed in the first place. I think he usually avoided them fearing that his morning boner would escape through the fly.) As soon as he was in the shower, I went for his laundry. Sure enough, the ones he had worn to bed were in the basket, but not with the mother lode I expected to find. There were just a couple spurts on the left front panel. A day or two later, I was going through his laundry again, and stuffed down in the bottom I found another pair of boxers; they had obviously been almost totally soaked, for now they were stuck together into a stiff, rumpled ball of cotton. Apparently he had shot off onto another pair of boxers, and what I found originally was just what he didn't catch. Man, I was sick not to have found them when they were fresh. And I was surprised that J had actually ejaculated almost in the open rather than with his throbbing boner under two layers of clothes or sheathed in a sock.
The other really big load came one morning when I apparently was in the room but still asleep. When we got up, our other roommate was in the shower, so we went to the kitchen and ate breakfast. J was wearing a pair of white athletic shorts (the kind made out of t-shirt material that you wear under satin basketball shorts) which were thin enough to reveal evert seams of his underwear and the orientation of his penis (it was pointed up and to his left, but was not hard); he had to piss pretty badly, so his periodic grabs to his crotch repeatedly drew my attention. He left the apartment before me that morning, so I went ahead and checked his laundry. To my surprise, his underwear and shorts were totally soaked with semen. I don't know how I could have missed seeing or smelling it while we fixed breakfast, but I did. His underwear had been saturated from the middle of the front to the far left side of the hip; they were still wet in the double-thickness front panel. The side panel of the underwear and the shorts had that stiffness characteristic of a really thick load of semen. He had exploded right underneath me in bed that morning and then walked around with it still wet in his shorts, yet I had missed both. Damn.
In fact, in one year, there were only two times that I ever "caught" him. Once, he was sleeping in the living room because he was working strange hours on a project, and the nylon of his sleeping bag gave him away, but his semen had mostly dried by morning, so I didn't get full benefit of it. The other time, he was leaving very early in the morning for a trip, so he couldn't wait until I was in the shower and he was alone. The weird thing is, it just sounded like he was rolling over, first one way then the other. I never heard a rhythmic stroking. Maybe he had already jacked off by the time I woke up and was just rolling around, or maybe by waiting a week he was so worked up that all it took were a few rubs (which might have been his way of convincing himself that he wasn't really masturbating--who knows?). In any case, as soon as he was out the door, I put on his semen-soaked underwear and, wringing some of it out onto my boner to slick it up, I proceeded to inject two loads of my own before I left for class that morning. I wanted to shoot mine in a different place on his underwear so that I could keep his separate from mine, but I was afraid that it would give me away if he noticed that the underwear he had come in once had two stains.
I'll post this now, soon to be followed by my description of my roommate E's masturbation habits (and my obsession with his habits).
Part 2 of 2 ROOMMATE 2--"E"
My other roommate whose masturbation activities I followed was "E." E was much less guilt-ridden than J about the practice. Somehow or another, I managed to turn conversations to the topic about it from time to time, and although he wasn't willing to discuss details such as frequency or techniques, I learned that he definitely did (or rather that he admitted to doing what he almost certainly did) and that he pretty much took it as a given that guys would. As with J, E's laundry provided me with answers to the details of E's practices. E masturbated an average of about 3 times a week--still less than my 6-10 times, but more "normal" than J's once a week. E and I had separate rooms, so I never got to hear/see him at work, but I was able to figure out pretty well how he went about it.
E wore very loose shorts to bed--either boxers or cut off sweats or Umbros without underwear. He would always take something to bed to shoot off into when he masturbated: those that I remember included a sock, a pair of underwear, a t-shirt, a hand towel, a bath towel, a cloth napkin, and a pillowcase. It seemed that his usual technique must have been to spread the chosen cloth across his chest and stomach and to shoot off across it (rather than shooting on his chest and later wiping it up). I could tell this because there would be a series of distinct stains on the cloth at various distances where the wads of semen had landed rather than a smeared streak wiped off his chest. E was pretty potent--even with only 2 or 3 days between jack-offs, he would usually spray pretty well to the top of his chest, and he obviously shot a pretty big load virtually every time. I could also always find on his shorts or boxers the last little dribbles which had seeped out as he softened up after coming. Unfortunately, E usually masturbated at night, so by the time he was in the shower the next morning and I could go into his room, his semen had often dried. He had a sort of drying rack beside his bed that he hung all of his clothes on to dry out before throwing them in the laundry basket, and he seemed pretty unashamed to toss his come-rags in among his other clothes on the rack. But at least it was easy to find the evidence. And eventually, I started to recognize in advance signs that he was going to masturbate that night. We usually had the windows open and would sleep with our bedrooms open for a breeze, but E would close his door when he went to bed (often opening it a little later) on masturbation nights. Also, if his hand towel suddenly disappeared from the hall sink just before bed, that was a pretty good clue.
One weekend, E and I took a camping trip. My laundry inspections had told me that E hadn't masturbated for almost a full week. On the morning we were to leave, E came out of his room with a more persistent boner than usual. (Normally he was down enough for it to tuck in downward, but this morning I could see that he was still pointing to the sky in his grey cutoff sweats.) As he pissed, I could hear that he was still pretty darn aroused--pissing briefly but then pausing as he clenched up, over and over, so that it took him about 90 seconds to empty his bladder. (If any of you guys have checked, I think you'll find that even your fullest bladder rarely takes more than 45 seconds to empty--60 tops--unless hindered by a relentless boner.) When E got in the shower, I went into his room and confirmed what this high state of arousal suggested--he had not jacked off that night. This left me eager for what opportunities the next three nights in a tent might offer. Was he deliberately saving himself up in anticipation of this trip? I could only hope!
Strangely enough, we could not find a campground with vacancies the first night, and had to stay in a motel (which was unfortunate on college students' budgets). The next morning, I sacrificed my last hour of sleep as I stayed discreetly on the lookout for a peek at his morning hard-on through the gaping fly of his boxers. I had no such luck, seeing only the suggestion of it through the material as he arranged himself before climbing out of bed. The next night in the tent was even worse--for the first time I had seen, he kept on his shorts and underwear from the day as we slept. Finally, on night 3, he slept in boxers again, and the night was warm enough that he slept on top of his sleeping bag. A faint light in the campground illuminated the tent just enough for me to see E clearly as he slept; once, as he rolled over onto his side (facing me), E's hand slid across the front of his boxers, revealing that he had a boner in his sleep. So close! That gaping fly which, somehow, he never seemed to accidentally slip out of, was so close that I lay awake for hours wondering whether I could gently pull it open so that he would pop out, yet without him noticing. He must be so horny after a week of not masturbating that even a slight stimulation from my hand might bring him off, spraying his semen all over him and me. But I couldn't muster the courage. I didn't even have the courage to masturbate myself with him so close; I just held my rock-hard-on and gently stimulated it by squeezing it. But I had been hard and intensely aroused for so long that when I rolled over to my front to try to go back to sleep, almost like a wet dream, I ejaculated instantly with no more stimulation than the pressure of laying on my hard-on. I just seemed to keep coming and coming. I was wearing flannel boxers, and they were drenched. Semen even soaked through onto my sleeping bag. The whole tent seemed to smell of semen, at least to my hypersensitive senses.
It began to rain during the night, and water ran in under E's sleeping bag, soaking it through and waking him. We pushed his wet bag to the side to soak up any additional water and spread mine out flat and both slept on top of it. (In the morning, I discovered that the semen-soaked spot on my bag had ended up under E!) Now he was even closer, but I couldn't bring myself to do anything. The next day, I told E that I had had a wet dream for the first time in a long time. I told him partly because, fearing that he'd smelled my semen in the night, I didn't exacly want him to think I'd laid there beside him and whacked off (although my hope had been that somehow we would silently communicate our [mutual?] desire and do it side by side). Also, I wanted to find out whether he ever had wet dreams anymore and hopefully steer the conversation to other stimulating topics. A few weeks earlier, I had found a pair of his boxers that he had obviously come in during the night. This was just one day after I had found a towel or something that he had shot off into, and since he usually waited at least a couple days, I had concluded that he either had a wet dream while wearing the boxers or that he sort of surprised himself by masturbating again when he hadn't planned to and hadn't taken anything to bed with him to catch it in. Since he said that he hadn't had a wet dream for years, I concluded the latter.
We got back from our trip late at night, and our apartment was really hot, so we turned on the air conditioner and went straight to bed. I figured that E was bursting to masturbate--indeed, he closed his door--so I was going to stand in the hall outside his room to listen, but the AC was too loud for me to hear anything. As soon as it seemed to have run a normal amount of time, I sneaked down the hall and turned off the thermostat. But he was either already finished by then or he was pretty quiet about it. The next morning, I found his dark blue pillowcase on the floor by his bed, folded in half and plastered together with a huge wads of dried semen. He had come like crazy, and the pillowcase revealed every spurt--I could even see where he had wiped the last drips from the head of his penis. To this day, I use a similar pillowcase of mine when I know I'm going to blast off with an unusually big load.
Unfortunately, there were only a couple times when I found E's semen still wet and aromatic. Usually this was when he had used a sock, which dried slower, and I would then usually jack off into the same sock, sometimes with a pair of his sleeping shorts on. Once, he must have departed from his normal routine. Suddenly, his bedspread was reversed to the side that he never used, and not in connection with doing his laundry or changing his sheets. I looked on the bottom, and sure enough there were semen stains on what was normally the top. Some were where spurts had landed, but there was also a spot that looked rubbed in, so it seemed that he had laid on his stomach and rubbed against his bedspread until he shot off.
Now I live alone, and I really miss following my roommates' masturbatory lives. There is a large college near where I live, and sometimes I wish I was a maintenance man who could go through rooms and search out evidence of guys masturbating.
Please post your experiences with your roommates' masturbation, jacking off with their semen-soaked clothes, etc.!!