Reassuring my Straight Roommate
This story is a work of fiction based loosely in my own experience. Read at your own leisure, and if this type of writing offends you, you are in the wrong place.
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My name is Mark. This story takes place a few years ago when I was living in a student dorm with a few friends. At the time, we were living in a four-bedroom house, and I was there with two friends I had known for a few years, and a guy named Zach who was a friend of a friend. I had the master bedroom with the ensuite bathroom, Zach and our female roommate shared a bathroom between their bedrooms, and my other roommate was one floor down. This bathroom situation comes into play later on, but that might have to wait for another story.
I was spending a typical Friday night in my room watching some TV while half-heartedly working on something for school. I was wearing some cut-off jogging shorts and a graphic tee which I was desperately holding onto even though it was several years old and a size or two too small. Oh well, I still loved it and it was comfy to wear around the house. Back then I was completing a degree in health sciences, and was really into fitness. I had realized the year before that I actually had the type of body that responded well to weight training, so I had been focused on beefing up for about 8 months. I'm average height, brown hair, blue eyes, and at the time I was well-muscled with the remains of a paunch for which I can thank my love of a stiff rye and ginger. I'm pretty hairy all over, something that I've always enjoyed, primarily because I find hairy men so attractive and masculine. I'm not quite sure when this started, but from a very young age I had been drawn to men's body hair. I remember sneaking glances at my dad when we would go swimming, and enjoying the sight of his super hairy chest, legs, and thighs. My favourite time was when we would spend time in the hot tub, because my dad had a "no bathing suits allowed" policy for that. Again, that'll have to wait for another time. Back to the night in question.
I was doing my work and, quite frankly, looking for any excuse to give up the faade, when Zach came home from the hockey game he had gone to with some buddies of his. He came up the stairs, and to get to his bedroom he had to pass mine, so he stopped in on the way. I could tell he'd had a few beers because he was more talkative and chipper than usual, which was fine by me. Zach is a little bit shorter than me, with thick, curly brown hair usually hidden under a ball cap, and a stocky build that he spent most of the time hiding under an oversized jersey and baggy jeans. He had just enough extra weight on him to make him the perfect size for cuddling (I had often imagined), but it was also enough that it really hurt his confidence level, which was a bummer. He was also about as straight as they come; not in an in-your-face, macho, douchebag kind of way, but in the drinks beer for breakfast on weekends, laughs at farts, doesn't know how to do laundry sense. Which, needless to say, turned me on immensely.
"Are you seriously doing work on a Friday?" He chuckled as he walked himself into my room and sat down in the armchair.
"I wanna say yes, but honestly I checked out like an hour ago so I've just been sitting here watching TV. How was the game?" I paused the show I'd had on, Spartacus. Zach loved the show because of the fight scenes and the naked chicks, I loved it because of the fight scenes between mostly naked men. To each his own.
"Oh man, it was fuckin' awesome!" He began to launch into a detailed explanation of everything that had happened, and although I tried to follow along I quickly lost interest; I had no idea which player he was referring to or who they had beef with or why a certain play was such a game-changer, and I didn't really care. I was just happy that Zach was happy.
As he was telling his story, he got to a point where he and a fan of the other team began heckling one another, which I found hilarious, until he mentioned Đ
"And he wouldn't stop talking, so finally I stood up and yelled out "Listen, faggot, just shut the hell up!" which did the trick." He again chuckled, and looked at me, waiting for me to do the same.
In case you somehow hadn't realized by this point, I'm as gay as the day is long. I've always tended to be quiet and reserved, more of a listener than a talker, so often times people don't realize this until I tell them. But for some reason, the word faggot always stung, even though I knew it wasn't directed towards me. I also wasn't specifically closeted, I just didn't tell people I was gay unless it came up in conversation or I felt they should know. So my reaction was not what he expected.
"Dude, seriously? It's one thing to argue and swear at some ass-hat as part of the game, but you don't have to call someone a faggot to get your point across."
This caught him off guard. He didn't react defensively, but rather with genuine curiosity.
"Really? Why do you care?"
"Zach, buddyÉ I'm gay."
This really caught him off guard, and he started laughing. Not in a cruel, derogatory way, but as though I was making a joke. A few seconds later, when I hadn't cracked up, he realized I was being serious.
"No way, seriously?"
"For real," I assured him.
"ManÉ no offense or anything butÉ you don't really seem that gay. Are you sure?"
This is when I started laughing, because I knew he was sincerely shocked with what I was telling him. Despite his choice in language, I also knew that he was by no means homophobic, he was just so far entrenched in his own idea of sexuality that it never dawned on him that someone he knew might be gay.
"Sorry, I should probably be wearing my pink go-go boots and blonde wig to be having this conversation." For a second, he appeared shocked that I might actually own such an ensemble, before realizing I was subtly calling him a dumbass.
"Fuck off,' he laughed. "But seriously, I had no idea! Does everyone else know? Why didn't you tell me before?"
I could sense he had a bunch of questions coming, and I thought, fuck it, it's Friday night and I'm not doing my work anyway.
"Listen, man, I'm happy to tell you all about myself, but you're definitely a few drinks ahead of me. Mind if I catch up?" I didn't wait for a response, but instead walked over to the min-fridge by my closet and pulled out a bottle to mix a drink. Zach laughed again.
"Hell no, I'll grab myself a beer too!" He left to grab a can from the beer fridge he kept in his room, and as he did I took a quick shot of my whiskey before mixing myself a drink.
Zach came back in, I gave a facetious but obligatory "Cheers, Queers" toast, and we both sat back down, him in the arm chair, me on my bed. As expected, he launched into a series of questions about how long I had known, had I ever hooked up with any girls, had I brought anyone back to the house, and so on and so forth. I was happy to answer his questions, because I was comfortable with him and knew he was a good guy. The first night we had met, we shared a joint and a six-pack of beer in Muskoka chairs in the backyard while chatting about everything and nothing in particular. He was easy to get along with, and was unassuming and open, more traits I found ridiculously attractive.
As his questions went on, we each poured another drink. His questions began to get more daring, and my answers more scandalous. Soon he was asking me about my preferences, who and what I found attractive, what I liked to do with other guys. It got to a point where I started throwing the questions back at him; if I was gonna tell him the kind of guys I was into, he had to give up the details on what he was into. As you might expect, it didn't take long for the conversation to steer in a direction wherein we both admitted that we were total "ass guys," albeit with different tastes. Once we reached a point of mutual interest, the questions again began to get bolder.
"So, like, do you like to be the guy fucking, or the guy getting fucked?" He asked me.
"Honestly, I guess it depends on the day. Some days I'm in the mood to take a cock, some days I'm in the mood to stick my dick in someone. It's usually about that simple." We both laughed.
"Man, to be honest I'm a bit jealous! I've tried to get girls to try anal, but they never seem into it. Is it easier with gay guys? I mean, aside from a blow job it's basically the only other option, right?" Like I said, the guy was so straight his only concept of gay sex was either oral or anal.
"Not necessarily. I kind of go back and forth, so some people would label me as versatile. I like fucking, I like getting fucked. Some guys are strictly tops, meaning they are the ones doing the fucking, and some are strictly bottoms, meaning they're the ones taking the dick up the ass. But even then there's all different types of both. For a group focused on equality, us gays certainly enjoy labeling and categorizing ourselves" I chuckled, and after a moment of deep thought so did Zach.
"Ok, so you're versatile. But how did you figure that out? Do you like both the same, or does it depend on your mood? I mean, say you're hooking up with another guy who likes to give it and take it, how do you decide who fucks who?" I laughed again; as a guy who's known he was gay from a young age, I had never thought of explaining the dynamics of gay sex to someone straight who, through no direct decision-making or exploration process, was expected to be a top.
"I guess I just realized early on I liked both. I didn't always know, I definitely had to do some exploring and figuring things out when I was younger." He seemed a bit confused by this.
"What do you mean?"
I sighed, and sat up to make another drink.
"I'm happy to tell you all about it, but I'm gonna need another drink first. You sure you want to hear about this?"
Without hesitation, he responded. "Abso-fucking-lutely! You're blowing my mind, man! I've never had a gay friend before, so this is all new to me."
"None that you've known were gay, anyways," I joked. I sat back down, took a swig of my drink, and tried to figure out where to start.
"Since I was young, I was always drawn to guys, even before I knew what sex was. As I got older, I realized that I didn't just prefer to hang out with my friends who were guys, but I was attracted to them as well. I grew up in a small town with zero diversity, so I always felt this need to keep things secret, meaning if I wanted to figure things out, I had to do it myself. I don't remember when it started, but I know that before I even knew what jerking off was, I knew that I liked playing with my ass. When I was on my own in the pool, I'd shove my hand down my pants and put my finger in my ass when nobody was watching. If I was alone in the hot tub I'd stand up just a bit so the jets would tickle my asshole. And as I got older I tried other things, until eventually I hooked up with someone and tried bottoming. And I loved it."
After this, there were a few moments of silence, during which we both took a swig of our drinks.
"I'm sorry," I said, "that might have been a bit too much information." I was worried I had told him too much, even though that was really only scratching the surface.
"No man, not at all, I'm the one who asked! And to be honestÉ" he trailed off.
"What?" I asked, totally unsure where this was going.
"ÉWell, growing up we had a hot tub tooÉ"
Another moment of silence, before he finally exhaled and said "I used to pull the back of my bathing suit down so the jets would hit my asshole and my balls too!" He laughed at this point, and I did the same. "I'd stay in for so long the bottom half of my body looked like a raisin!"
We both cracked up at this, and it seemed to ease any lingering discomfort. It seemed like being able to talk openly about something he had probably never told anyone else about was opening up doors for him. It also got my attention pretty quick, and my dick pretty hard thinking about him in his hot tub.
"I think the hot tub jets are a pretty common rite of passage, I mean what guy could resist?!" I laughed. "Did you ever try anything else? It sounds like you enjoyed it!"
He laughed again, and tilted his head up to drain the last few sips of his beer. When he brought his head back down his face was a bit red; he was smiling, but blushing with what seemed to be a bit of embarrassment or hesitation.
"Listen, Zach," I said, as I got up and walked across the room, shutting the door, before sitting back down. "Whatever you say in this room stays in this room. I don't get to judge you or what you like, because chances are I'm into freakier shit. And I hope you realize I'd never tell anyone anything about you unless I knew you were totally open about it, and I'm pretty sure none if this conversation falls under that category." This relaxed him somewhat, and after a minute his blushing subsided.
"Yeah, I know that. Shit, until tonight I never even knew you were gay, so obviously you can keep a secret. Not that it was a secret or anything, but, you now what I mean. It's justÉ do gay guys talk openly about this stuff? I've talked with my buddies about hook-ups and stuff, but never anything really personal, like the thing with the jets."
I took a few seconds to collect my thoughts. "Sometimes, gay guys can be pretty judgy and bitchy; it comes with the territory, especially for guys who needed to use that type of personality to survive growing up gay. But when it comes to sex and talking about kinks and interests, I find we're a bit more open about it because we've had to figure things out for ourselves. I still remember my dad giving me the sex talk, and he might as well have been speaking Russian because none of it applied to me or really helped at all, except for him telling me where I could always find condoms in the house."
"Yeah," Zach said, "I guess that makes sense. To be honest, I guess I've always wondered about trying butt stuff, but I was worried what girls would think if I brought it up, so I never did. I mean, I have a hard enough time asking them to try anything involving ass play, so I can't even imagine asking them, especially withÉ" He trailed off, and his head sank just a little bit.
"Especially with what? What do you mean?"
After a few seconds, he finally answered. "Especially with an ass like mine!"
This caught me totally by surprise, and I was genuinely confused. "What are you talking about?"
"Dude," he said, "I've got a big, hairy ass! Not exactly something people find attractive." At this his head hung a bit lower. I was floored; even through the baggy jeans he favoured so much, it was always obvious that he had a nice, round bubble butt. In fact, I was sure he had caught me checking him out a few times, but I guess I had been more discrete than I'd realized. After a few moments of shock, I began to laugh.
"Zach, man, I can't speak for the ladies because I'm not one, but as someone who appreciates a good ass, I've gotta say, you've got a nice one. No homoÉ..Well, I guess a bit homoÉ" We both laughed at that, but Zach shook his head.
"Nah, you're just saying that to cheer me up. Seriously, it's really hairy, to the point that I keep baby wipes hidden in my room because toilet paper just doesn't cut it. It's not a good look."
"Whatever, man, everyone has things they're self-conscious about. For some people it's height, or weight. Some guys want to be hairier, some guys want to be less hairy. Or more muscled. Or skinnier. Or more freckled. Or less. Just because you worry about how you look doesn't mean other people see you the same way. Again, as someone who spends a lot of time focusing on guys' asses, you've got a great one!"
This didn't seem to convince him. "I don't think you realize how big and hairy it is."
"Then show me," I challenged. He laughed it off as a joke. I chuckled a bit, before persisting. "Seriously, let me see, and I'll give you my honest feedback. The door's shut and there's nobody else even home right now."
He looked at me for a few seconds, seeming to be judging if I was being real with him or trying to embarrass him further. Finally, he blushed and shook his head.
"Nah," he said, "I justÉ I've never been comfortable with anyone looking at me like thatÉ it's not because you're gay or anything!" At this point he was stumbling over his words a bit, a mix of being self-conscious about his body and trying not to offend me. "I justÉ I've neverÉ" At this point, I was getting a little tired of the modesty.
"Dude, it's just an ass, we've all got one. I'll prove it!" And with that, I jumped up, turned around, grabbed my shorts at the waist and pulled them down until I was bent over, hands and shorts around my ankles, my bare ass two feet from Zach's face. I looked around to see him staring at my ass, open-mouthed, too surprised to react in any other way. I chuckled, and after a few seconds I stood back up, pulling my shorts back up to my waist before turning and sitting back on the bed. Zach was still stunned, but eventually started laughing and shaking his head in disbelief.
"See, there's nothing to it! Don't overthink it, man, it's just an ass!" This seemed to embolden him a bit. He set his empty beer can down and stood up before slowly turning around. He hesitantly unbuckled and unzipped his jeans, and began to pull them down around his thighs. His hands moved slowly, and he was clearly incredibly nervous about what he was doing, but he kept going until his pants cleared his thick thighs, and fell down to the ground, leaving his ass bare but for the back of his oversized jersey.
"OK," I said, "partial credit. But you've got to lift up the jersey so I can see the full thing." He chuckled, and slowly reached his arms back, grabbing his jersey, and lifting it up, revealing one of the most beautiful, hairy asses I'd ever seen. His thighs and ass cheeks had clearly never seen the sun, leaving the skin super pale, but both round mounds were covered in a light mat of brown fur which grew thicker and more pronounced as it approached his ass crack. The extra weight he carried seemed to perfectly frame his ass against his thighs, and his cheeks jiggled ever so slightly as he breathed in and out. I was in heaven, and without realizing it I had slowly moved my face closer to his ass until it was only a few inches away. I slowly, deeply inhaled through my nose, and I could smell an intoxicating mix of sweat, soap, and the musty scent an ass develops after a few hours.
I don't know how long I sat there staring at Zach's beautiful ass, it felt like hours but was probably only seconds, before he spoke.
"Well, there it isÉ what do you think? I told you it was hairy." He laughed. It took me a few minutes to shake myself back to the moment and to answer, and when I did my voice trembled a bit.
"ZachÉbuddyÉ I hope you don't feel weird about me saying this, but you have the hottest ass I've ever seen." He laughed again, causing his ass to shake a bit more.
"Yeah, right!" he said in disbelief. "You're just saying that."
I shook my head, my eyes never leaving his hairy crevice. "No, I'm not just saying that, I seriously mean it." He turned his upper body to look at me, ass still in my face, or rather my face still leaning towards his ass, and saw the expression on my face. Before I could hide it, he looked down and saw the tent in my pants from my rock hard dick. This seemed to convince him a bit more, and he remained where he was.
"Seriously?" he asked, "You really think it's that hot?"
"ÉYeah" was all I could muster. My mouth as watering, and I was losing all sense of inhibition. Zach seemed to be doing the same, because he bent over the slightest bit, causing his ass to move closer to my face.
"This might be a weird question, but you're staring at my ass so who cares. If you like asses so muchÉ what do you like to do with them?" I wasn't sure if he was simply curious, or probing for a certain response, or still in disbelief, but I didn't really care. What I wanted was staring me in the face, his ass begging me to explore it with my eyes, hands, tongueÉ
"Éwell... IÉ umÉ I couldÉ" I stammered, desperately wanting to dive face first into his glorious ass, but terrified of his reaction. "I could show youÉ" I left the offer unfinished, the silence hanging in the air daring one of us to make the next move.
"OKÉ" he said quietly, "show me."
I didn't need any further invitation. My hands slowly came up and began kneading and caressing his ass, my fingers swirling through the thick curls of hair. With my thumbs I traced his ass crack from the bottom of his spine down to his thighs, before slowly pulling the cheeks apart. As I'd expected, and hoped, his beautiful, pinkish-brown asshole was covered in a thick coat of hair. As I pulled his ass cheeks apart, his hole puckered from being suddenly totally exposed, both to the cool air and to me.
"Oh my godÉ" Zach said, breathing heavily.
"Oh my godÉ" I mirrored, taking my own deep breath, until I couldn't wait any longer. I wanted to act tentatively and carefully, but that part of my brain had been overpowered by lust. I thrust my face forward, tongue first, and began to devour his asshole, first licking with the broad flat of my tongue through his coarse hair, before tickling his butthole with the tip of my tongue. I could hear him gasping, and his hands let go of his jersey, moving down to grab his own ass cheeks to spread them further, granting my better access to the most intimate parts of himself. I reached forward and pulled his hips backward, hardening my tongue enough to shove deep into his asshole, causing another set of gasps and exclamations. I shoved my tongue in and out of his butthole until it seemed to loosen up a bit, allowing me to stick my tongue in further and to let it soften, wiggling around, teasing him from the inside out. I could taste the soap he had showed with, the sweat that covered over that, and the faint remnants of what his baby wipes hadn't been able to clean away. I thought I had been in heaven before, but this was something altogether different. I had to pull myself away from his ass to gasp a breath, before plunging back in with renewed gusto. At that point in time, I don't think anything could have happened that would have prevented me from exploring Zach's asshole with every millimeter of my tongue. Part of me was hoping it would never end. Part of me was hoping for something dirtier, more carnal and basal. If he had farted in my face I would have inhaled every molecule. If my exploring tongue had found something unexpected I might have savoured every taste. As it was, it was just me, my tongue, and this beautiful ass in front of me. I couldn't stand it much longer.
"Dude," I breathed out, pulling myself away from his hole, "I'm about to cum, this is so hot!"
"Me too!' Was all he could muster. I quickly stood up, flinging off my shirt and shorts before laying on my back on my bed.
"Take off your clothes, and straddle my shoulders facing my feet. I need my tongue in your ass again right now!" He didn't hesitate this time, throwing off his jersey and stepping out of his jeans. As he turned around I could see his cock was rock hard. It was a bit shorter than mine, but thicker, and very hairy. He hopped onto the bed, and put his knees on either side of my shoulders, before slowly easing his ass down onto my face. I grabbed his hips and pulled them down until he was sitting on my face, my skull absorbing most of his weight, my tongue lodged firmly into his asshole. As he sat back and rocked against my face, I reached around with one arm and found his thick cock, and started to stroke it. He made no effort to reciprocate with my own solid cock, but made no effort to stop me, so with my other hand I reached down and started jerking off. We were moving in tandem, my tongue darting in and out of his hole, my breathing timed with the rocking of his hips back and forth, stroking our cocks in unison. After a few minutes which felt both like eternity and not nearly long enough, I could feel his ring tighten around my tongue, and his cock pulsed before he began shooting cum all over my abdomen. He was moaning either in agony or ecstasy or both, and he shot pulse after pulse of hot cum all over me. This just about sent me over the edge. With my tongue still planted inside his musty, hairy ass, I wiped my hand through the semen he had covered me with, and used it as lube to jack myself off. It only took a few more seconds before my own cock exploded, adding to the pool of his cum that covered me. As my orgasm subsided, I continued to lap at his asshole, more slowly, leisurely now, licking back and forth, in and out. Zach continued to move his hips back and forth, more lowly as well, relaxed, content.
We stayed like that for a few minutes until our breathing settled down. To prevent any tension about what had just happened, I simply asked:
"Do you believe me now?"
We both laughed, and he got off of me. I told him I needed a shower, and to my surprise he followed me into the bathroom and stepped into the shower with me. There was no touching or fooling around, we just both stood underneath the flow of water, enjoying the cleansing warmth, not saying anything. Somehow it was more intimate than if he would have turned me around and shoved his cock up my ass. It was simply peaceful; we were both enjoying a shower after a solid ejaculation.
After a few minutes, we both got out and got dried off. Zach threw on his pants and tossed his jersey over one shoulder, and headed for the door. As he opened it he looked back, bid me "goodnight" with a coy smile, and stepped out, shutting the door behind him. I fell into bed naked, too spent to bother putting on clothes. I fell asleep soon after, the smile on my face still smelling like the most gorgeous ass I had ever seen.
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