[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.