He wouldn't look at me the whole time. He kept his eyes hidden beneath that red hat he always wore. But I knew that he wanted me to watch, that he got off on me being there. `Cause when I came home from class, he'd be sitting on the couch, playing video games, his shirt off like always. He'd grunt a hello without taking his eyes off the tv screen. But then, after I grabbed a snack from the dorm kitchen or pissed or whatever and headed back to our room, he'd be bare-ass naked, playing with his cock.
The first few times I just watched. I couldn't take my eyes off that long, veiny cock of his... but I felt too awkward to do anything but watch as he jerked himself off. My own cock was stiff as hell, trapped uncomfortably in my jeans.
The fourth or fifth time I--
Okay, I guess I'm getting a little bit ahead of myself. Let me jump back.
His name is Pablo. We've been roommates for six months or so. He's always been pretty quiet--the strong, silent type, I guess you'd say. I was worried when I first brought a guy back to our dorm room, but Pablo was chill. He passed the dude a joint and went back to playing his video game.
And Pablo has been surprisingly sweet to me. He doesn't really say much, but when I'm having a rough day he can somehow tell, and he'll surprise me by picking up some little treat from the corner store--orange candy or a bottle of rootbeer or whatever--and hand it to me. And when the first guy I really dated broke up with me, Pablo put his arm around my shoulder and sat with me while I cried for a good couple hours, and all that week he made sure I ate and even made me dinner a few times. I mean, if Easy Mac counts as making dinner, which it basically does when you're living in the dorms.
So, yeah, of course I had the hots for him--I mean, the dude is gorgeous and ripped as hell and I got to see him in his underwear all the time. I can't tell you how many times I jerked off thinking about that smooth chest of his and the big bulge in his underwear and his thick lips.
So, yeah, it was pretty, uh, stimulating when he started giving me those little shows. After I got used to them, maybe the fourth time, I whipped out my own boner.
His cheeks reddened. He still wouldn't look out from beneath his hat. His breath got a little faster and he bit his lip. And when I started rubbing my own meat, his breathing got even faster. He even started matching the timing of his strokes to mine. It was pretty fucking hot, touching ourselves to the same beat or whatever.
We did that, jerking off together, pretty much every day for a week. Without ever speaking one word about it, during or after. We got better and better at syncing up, closer and closer to cumming at the same moment--I always ended up shooting my load first, though. The sight of Pablo naked, working that long dick of his, his tongue poking out of his mouth, was too much. I guess you could say he had an unfair advantage, keeping that hat down over his eyes. I didn't mind though. The whole thing was like a wet dream--hot and weird and pretty fucking unbelievable.
And it only got even more so, because today--Well, today when I walked back into our room, munching an apple, Pablo was ass-up on the couch, his head turned sideways and resting on the couch arm, his ass pointed up at me. I was already hard--I had been since I stepped foot into the dorm, in anticipation--but my cock twitched, swelling even more. Pablo's cheeks were spread apart by one hand, while the other traced a line between his balls and his asshole.
I tossed the apple, yanked my pants and boxers off, dropping them to the floor. Now, Pablo is a pretty hairless dude. I mean, he shaves his ball but his chest is naturally smooth. But there's a bunch of dark, silky hair around his hole, like some secret forest or something, which for some reason made me even fucking hornier.
Not to mention watching Pablo's fingers moving through that hair, pressing closer to the wrinkled pink of his hole. I took a couple steps towards him, wanting to see even better. As I stepped closer, he thrust his butt out further, towards me.
His finger, pushed into that grasping hole for just a second and then pulling out, making the hole quiver and gape. Taunting himself. Taunting me. Wordlessly begging my cock to fill up that hungry assmouth.
I wasn't sure what to do. I'd read a lot of feminist blogs, gone to a bunch of poetry slams--I knew I should ask for verbal consent. But I had this strong, weird feeling that saying anything would somehow shatter the spell, make Pablo clam up or run away. And I was weirdly getting off on the silence too.
So I just took a couple more steps closer. Pablo started pushing his finger into his hole faster and spread his legs further apart.
My cock throbbed, precum starting to drool out. Tentatively, I reached my hand down to his asscheek. He trembled a bit, moved his hand away from his hole, making room for me. I traced a line along his crack, making a couple quick circles around that hole, which was still quivering and then pushed my finger in; Pablo let out a long, deep moan as his hot, velvety hole welcomed my finger in. Fuck, yeah. This was the first time I'd heard him moan, in all our jerking off together.
I started touching him everywhere, making up for all the times I'd watched but not touched his beautiful skin. I ran my hand down from his neck, all the way down his back and then stuck my finger up that panting hole for one deep thrust before returning back to his neck, beginning all over again, while the other hand massaged his hard belly and chest. And all the while his red hat still on, still hiding his eyes from me.
I only did this for a little bit, tweaking and tugging his nipples, finger-fucking him one full thrust at a time before he grabbed my hips and pulled me forward, pressing my cock against his ass. Oh, yeah. I grinned, slapping my rock-hard rod against him a few times before he pushed back, hard, and I adjusted my posture so he could impale himself on my shaft. He groaned even longer and deeper this time.
I was too worked up to go slow--we'd had like weeks of foreplay. So I gave it to him hard and fast, ramming up inside of him. Weirdly, all the synchronization we'd done made it the smoothest first fuck I've ever had. He thrust back against me in a perfect rhythm and our breathing--heavy and ragged as hell--synced up too.
Each little movement I made he mirrored even though he couldn't see me. I kept fucking him deep, my shaft filling him up and it was like we had invented some new language of lust and skin--communicating in a way I can't really explain in words. His need for my cock was so raw and primal and I was somehow pouring all my lust for him through my skin, my hand on his neck, my fingers tugging his nipples, my cock pummeling his hungry ass.
There was nothing to say but this, these frantic movements, these moaning breaths. Each breath a moan, his voice and mine, weaving in and out. And then we came, at the exact same moment, that beautiful cock of his spurting his juice all over the red couch while I shot a huge load into him, his shuddering hole milking even more cum out of me.
I sighed and wrapped my arms around him. His hand found my hand and his fingers gently pushed in between mine. I grinned into his back and he started laughing, filling our dorm room with fresh sounds of delight.
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