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Bottoming For My Roomie

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I lay on my bed in my black satin bikini briefs as my roommate, Mark, entered the room, fresh from his shower, towel around the waist. He turned his back to me as he dropped his towel and dried his crotch. I savored his near heroic form: powerful shoulders tapering to a slim waist, muscular legs joined to the waist by magnificent glutes. He quickly donned a pair of boxers from his top drawer, conscious of my attention even with his back turned.

Six weeks ago, when we were first thrown together in the freshman room lottery, it had been different. Mark loved to be naked, often walking past coed rooms to the men’s bathroom sans clothing. That ended with great sadness among most of the coeds when one particularly prim bitch complained to the floor monitor.

I had the advantage of viewing his studliness in all its glory for a few more weeks, until he began to get ribbed about his fag roommate from his lacrosse teammates. There was no doubt about me, as nellie a bottom as ever existed, slim, tall, tight and fey. At first, Mark didn’t seem to care. He had a girlfriend—whom he claimed to be fucking—within a week of arriving on campus. I had no doubt about the fucking. Who could resist him? Anyway, I myself got fucked my first day on campus by a big-dicked black janitor in the library bathroom.

Mark showed no interest in me sexually, but he didn’t seem to be put off by my manner either. He even helped me with my calculus. (Yeah, a smart jock. Go figure!) He had to know that watching him prance about the room in his birthday suit was a major turn on. I think he even liked the attention. I sure as hell didn’t hide my fascination with him. At first he blew off the kidding from his jock buddies, but he soon realized that the rep you get in the first semester of college often sticks with you for the next four years. Then, his girlfriend dumped him, which in his short, charmed life was apparently unprecedented, and he attributed it to my presence.

Now, I’m not saying he blamed me. As far as I could tell, there wasn’t a homophobic bone in his body. (And remember, I examined that body every chance I got.) At the end of the fourth week of the semester, he sat down on the end of his bed, elbows on his knees, staring fixedly at the floor and announced that he had put his name in for roommate reassignment. He explained that he didn’t care what I was, but that he couldn’t afford to be tagged as a faggot too. I half expected it and was admirably gracious. He didn’t treat me any differently after that, except that he avoided standing too close to me and turned his back when changing clothes. I no longer got a good shot at that big uncut cock, except when he dropped something or had to reach into his closet. Sigh.

Watching him for what was likely one of the last times, I stretched out on the bed with my hands behind my head, one leg raised and bent at the knee. My cock was half hard and filled the pouch my briefs. I had no agenda, but I can’t help posing in front of a hot guy, even if I know he’s not interested. Gotta keep in practice. When Mark turned after donning the boxers, I asked how the reassignment was progressing.

“I’m fourth on the list, now," he answered sheepishly. “They say it’ll be about a week. You know I’m sorry about this, Glen. It’s just....”

“We’ve been over that,” I interrupted. “I told you that I understand. I’ll get over it; in a couple of months, anyway. This kind of thing has happened before”

I don’t know why I said that. I really didn’t mind that much. Embarrassed, I rolled over onto my stomach to cover the fact that my cock was now swelling beyond the confines of my briefs. I squirmed until the head popped free, trapped between my abdomen and the bedspread. I picked up “Gravity’s Rainbow”, the subject of my upcoming English term paper and pretended to read. After an uncomfortable minute or two of silence, I felt my bed sag as Mark sat next to me. He put his hand on my shoulder. I shrugged it off.

“I’m OK, Mark,” I said without turning my head to him. “It just came out badly. A guy like me gets used to rejection. It’s better than getting beaten up. You’re a good guy in an awkward situation. I know that.”

“We’re gonna stay friends, Glen. I have no intention…” He stopped as I inhaled sharply, probably as shocked as I was to find that his hand was on my ass.

Now, my ass is probably my finest, well…, asset. Despite my generally lean form, I have with quite the bubble butt, and I work out to keep it hard and tight. After all, it’s what my lovers spend most of their time looking at. I expected Mark to snatch his had away in embarrassment, but he didn’t. I clenched the cheeks, and Mark began running his hand over the satin. He responded by running a finger along the dimple of my crack until it pushed the fabric against my opening. I spread my legs to give him access. I was full hard by now and let out a low moan. I glanced back and saw that Mark had his cock in hand as it poked out a good eight and a half inches through the slit in his boxers. I had never seen it hard before.

“Pretty impressive,” I offered as I caught his eyes.

“Thanks,” he mused, “but it can be a problem. I can’t get any girl to take it up the ass. They all say it’s too big.”

“An oversized cock is an oxymoron to me,” I opined.

Mark grabbed the waistband of my briefs and pulled them down over the hams. Tentatively, he ran the fingertips of his right hand across the light fuzz. Gathering up his resolution, he let his palm make contact. He squeezed and I clenched again. I immediately sensed that it was a mistake.

“It doesn’t look or feel like a woman’s ass,” he said, “Not even Callista Flockhart’s.”

I replied, “It’s not supposed to. But the plumbing is still the same.”

Mark never stopped kneading my glutes as he considered my comment. After a minute or two, he rose and dropped his boxers, then pulled my briefs completely away. He faced me with that fine thick cock standing proud from his magnificent body. He climbed up onto the bed and straddled my legs just below the hips. He lay his cock in the cleft of my ass and let his weight settle onto me. He kept his arms locked as though in mid pushup. Apparently, he felt full body contact too intimate. Slowly, he moved his hips dragging his cock along my now sweaty crack. Gradually, he increased the amplitude of his motion until the cockhead nearly fell between my legs at the extremum. He grunted heavily as he moved his hips with increasing vigor. I had just about resolved myself to a session of frottage when he pulled away.

Mark placed a finger at my butthole and pushed. I opened for him, but the skin caught at the first knuckle. He pulled it out and said, “Don’t we need Vaseline or KY or something?”

“Wet,” I said.


“In my top dresser drawer. Wet. It’s a lube. In a bottle.”

Mark rummaged through my drawer and brought out the bottle and a packet of condoms. “We need to use one of these, don’t we?”

“I always do, but just this once, I’d like to go bareback. I’m pretty sure that I don’t have to worry about you. You’d have to trust me, I guess, but you have less risk anyway. If this is a pity fuck, I’d like to do it right.”

Mark sat back on the bed and squeezed some of the gel onto his fingertips. He parted my ass cheeks and rubbed his finger tips on my butthole. He pressed gently with his middle finger, testing the resistance. Champ that I am, I opened for him and virtually swallowed the digit. He grunted in surprise. I suspect that he wasn’t sure if he really wanted to go that far. Once in though, he began to work me pretty good. After a minute or so with a single digit, he pulled out. Immediately, he worked two fingers into my slot and again I accepted them easily. He seemed fascinated with how they disappeared into my accommodating rosette.

I would have welcomed another, but Mark seemed to surmount some point of indecision. He pulled my briefs off completely. I reached down surreptitiously to pull my balls up out of sight. Doffing his own boxers, he drenched my crack in the lube. Without further ado, he pressed the fat head of his tool against my opening and pushed. There was no nuance involved. I one single thrust, painful even to me, he was pelvis-to-glutes against me. I cramped badly, but he didn’t notice and perhaps didn’t care. Without waiting, he pulled back and began thrusting into me repeatedly and hard. I raised my ass slightly so that he could get better penetration. I started working my cock with my hand, but within a minute I felt him gushing inside me. After about eight huge spurts, he let his full weight fall on me and I collapsed flat on the bed.

“Oh man,” he gasped. “That was great. And you were tight, too! I didn’t think you would be with all the fucking you claim to be doing.”

After about a minute, he pulled out and rolled over on his back. “Let me just lay here a minute, dude, and get my strength back.” Two minutes later, he was snoring softly.

I rolled over to face him, my unspent, hard tool still in my hand. Well, he wasn’t much of lover, but that bod! I reached out and lay my hand on one of his pecs. Un-tensed, it pushed back with just the right resistance. I circled the nipple and it responded. I moved to the other side and repeated my manipulations. He sighed in his sleep. I bent over and flicked my tongue at his left nipple. When he didn’t awaken, I took it between my teeth and bit lightly. His cock, which had never gone completely soft, stiffened visibly at my actions. It continued to rise as I worked my way down his ripped torso.

Finally, I found myself confronted with the beast itself. I teased the cleft of the head on its underside with my tongue. Mark moaned, but otherwise did not stir. I took it into my mouth, and suddenly there were two strong hands on my head, clenching my hair.

“Suck it, faggot,” he sneered. “Suck my big, straight cock like you’ve never sucked a cock before.”

This? From my gentle, understanding Mark? Damn, it was hot. I pulled off his member and licked the shaft down to the balls. I took each egg into my mouth then went deep between his legs. He spread them for me and I attacked his hole. Mark squirmed and moaned. If I had been a different kind of fag, I swear that I could have had him right there, but that wasn’t my thing. Still, everything we had done so far, Mark could have done with a woman: butt fuck blow job, rim job. I wanted to do something that was totally homo.

I straddled him just below his hips. Reaching behind me, I scooped out the cum and lube still draining from my ass and slathered it on my cock. I then placed my six-incher next to his stiff monster and encircled then both with my hands. I jacked us off together. Knowing that he had little staying power, I let myself shoot within a minute or so. He apparently found it hot because he himself joined me within a few seconds. By the time we were done, his chest and abs were covered with white jism. He lay back panting heavily.

After a few minutes, he bent his neck and examined the mess that covered his torso. He took a finger on his right hand, plunged it into one gob and brought it to his mouth. After savoring it for a few seconds, he found a second splotch with his left and repeated the process.

Scooping up more from the second pool, he reached out and placed his sloppy finger to my lips. As I took in my mouth, Mark announced, “This is my cum.” He presented me with a glob on his other hand. “And this is yours. Can you taste the difference?”

“I’m a connoisseur,” I replied.

“Good,” he said, and he pulled my head down to his chest. I cleaned him as thoroughly as any cat cleaning his paws. When I was done, we lay spoon fashion, him behind with his flaccid cock pressed into the crack of my ass. His arm was hooked over me and he held me tight against him. Within a few minutes, his grip loosened, and I again heard his soft snore. I soon drifted off myself.

Mark was gone to his early class when I awoke the next morning. Our paths didn’t cross the entire day. I was studying my calculus when the door of the room swung open and he entered noisily. Before the door had swung fully shut, he had me pinned on my back and was pulling off my pants. This time, we fucked face to face, with my legs over his shoulders. If anything, he slammed me harder than he had the previous night. He lasted quite a bit longer this time, but I took no chances and whacked myself to completion as soon as I could. We were both covered in sweat by the time he finished and collapsed against me.

After catching his breath, Mark raised himself on his elbows, cock still inside me. “My name came up in the reassignment pool,” he announced.

“So this was a goodbye fuck?”

“I told them I wasn’t sure anymore,” he replied. “They said they’d have to put me back at the end of the queue if I didn’t switch now. I told them to go ahead.”

I couldn’t help myself, I kissed him full on the lips. Immediately, I saw it was a mistake. He was willing to put his dick in my ass, but not his tongue in my mouth.

“Sorry, dude,” I apologized. “I won’t do that again.” He smiled and nodded sheepishly.

In a gay fairy tail, Mark would see the error of his ways, give up women and we’d live happily ever after. Well, we continued to room together and became best friends. We slept together every night but didn’t fuck much when he had a girlfriend. However, we got together like bandits when he didn’t. I didn’t mind much because I got “adopted” by the lacrosse team. When Mark wasn’t fucking me, one of the other guys usually was--even the coach, a pretty hot guy in his late thirties.

All in all, I remember my college days pretty well. Mark and I are still close, even though he’s now married and lives about 100 miles away. We get together a few times a year for a hot weekend. He claims that fucking me isn’t really cheating. I wouldn’t think of contradicting him.

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