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Falling for My College Roommate

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Ass

My name is Tommy. I grew up in a loving, close-knit family. I always had the support of my family and friends. When I was 16 years old, I came out as gay. My parents and my siblings had no issues accepting me for who I was. I was very fortunate.

We lived in a small suburb of a big city. It gave us the feel of a small town with the convenience of everything the city has to offer nearby. It was the best of both worlds. Growing up, my mom did everything for us kids…too much actually. I never had to do any chores, I never cooked anything, I never had a part-time job, she bought all of my clothes for me, etc. I enjoyed it all at the time, but she wasn’t doing me any favors as far as preparing me to be a self-sufficient adult. I didn’t know how to do basic things. I lacked life skills.

I was always able to focus on school work, however, and I always had good grades. I was not at all athletic, but I was smart. I earned a decent scholarship and when I turned 18, I left home for my first choice in colleges. I was both nervous and excited about being out on my own, being independent for the first time. I wondered about the type of roommate I would have. Hopefully he would be more experienced and knowledgeable about everyday things than I was. Maybe he could teach me how to do laundry.

Of course my roommate could turn out to be anyone. He could share the same tastes and interests as me, we could be complete opposites or we could land somewhere in between. I wanted us to have just enough in common that we would get along well. I wanted my sexuality to not be a problem for him. I wanted to keep things simple with him. My roommate would be the first person I would meet and, ultimately, the person I would spend the most time with. Whoever he ended up being, I hoped he would become my first college friend.

We met on that first day. We found our dorm room almost at the same time and made our introductions in the hall. His name was Jake and he was cute. I was almost hoping he wouldn’t be. If he, for example, was some beefy athlete that I had zero attraction to, then we could develop an easy friendship with no fear of complication. But no, that was not to be the case. I was physically attracted to him instantly. This was sure to play an emotional toll on me, one way or another.

We loaded our things into our room, decided who would take which side and began to unpack. As we unpacked, we talked and got to know each other. Jake was a nice guy. We were going to get along well. We decided we were friends already. I wished I wasn’t having involuntary impure thoughts about his body. This is just the complication I didn’t want.

He appeared to be close to my height and build, though I thought I was maybe a little bigger than him. He had dark brown wavy hair that had a natural windblown look to it. Like me, he was lean, but not overly muscular. He had deep blue eyes and a crooked smile that weakened my knees.

We finished putting away our clothes and I noticed that Jake hardly had anything. He was wearing an Under Armor tight fitting t-shirt and workout shorts. The t-shirt was kind of short and just barely came down to waistband of his shorts. I realized that it was probably a size too small for him. I only saw him put one pairs of jeans, one pair of sweatpants, one sweatshirt and two more t-shirts in his drawers, along with a couple pairs of socks and underwear. He was also wearing beat up old pair of Vans sneakers and I didn’t see any other pairs of shoes.

I, on the other hand, had been shopped for and packed by my mother. I had four seasons of clothes and shoes in an assortment that would have me covered for any occasion. Whether I was working out, lounging around, giving an important presentation in class or attending a formal social event, mom had me covered.

Jake and I decided to go to the dining hall for dinner. We spent two hours eating and talking more. Jake told me about how he grew up. How he was the oldest of three kids raised by a single mother. His father had died of cancer when he was just eight years old. It was a struggle for his mother. She was loving and hardworking. There was always food on the table, but they never had enough money. Jake was here at this school now because of brains and dedication. He earned a full-ride scholarship based solely on his academic achievements.

What people don’t realize when low-income students earn full-ride scholarships, whether it’s for sports or academics, is that while tuition, room and board are covered, these kids still have almost nothing else. In Jake’s case, it was all his mother could do to just to get him here. One of the conditions of his academic scholarship was that he could not work an off-campus job. He was required to be free for his studies. He had no money for any other needs and just the meager wardrobe he had arrived with. Meanwhile I was almost embarrassed by my bounty. I wanted to offer him help and access to my supplies and clothes, but I didn’t want Casibom to insult him or make him feel like a charity case. I would proceed with caution in that area.

I had decided before I even left for college that no matter who my roommate ended up being, I would be open about my sexuality from the beginning. I didn’t want things to get weird later if I kept it a secret at first and it eventually came out. So I told Jake at that first dinner that I was gay. This news had no negative affect on him. I do not outwardly display any stereotypical mannerisms, but maybe Jake already had an inkling? He simply flashed those blue eyes and that crooked smile and didn’t miss a beat as we continued our comfortable conversation. We had been so deep in our own conversation that we completely missed the opportunity to meet other people.

Back in our dorm, we each had some posters and other personal items to decorate the room with. Jake was a Science major and he had 2 night sky posters he wanted to put on the ceiling. Our room had unusually high 9 foot ceilings. We had no stepstool so he stood on his desk chair. It was a little wobbly and I instinctively hurried over to steady him. I placed both of my hands on his hips and held him secure.

The bulge of his crotch through his silky shorts was noticeable and, at that moment, about even with my chin. Leveling my gaze about 8 inches higher, I noticed I was eye to eye with his belly button. With the short t-shirt he was wearing and his arms stretched up to the ceiling, his shirt had ridden up and his innie belly button was peering right at me. It was probably usually perfectly round, but with him stretched out and reaching up, it formed a vertical oval. I had never really noticed or thought much about belly buttons before that moment, but his was like a work of art. Maybe it was because this was a sighting that normally wouldn’t be happening. We weren’t at the beach or the pool or at the showers. We weren’t anywhere that one would expect to see a flash of skin in a vulnerable area. It was a surprise exposure, a stolen glimpse. I felt a stirring in my crotch. It was all I could do to stop my hands from roaming up off his hips and onto the smooth tan skin of his lean, bare abdomen.

Every time he wore that shirt after that day, and he wore it often as he only had a few options, I hoped to catch another sneak peek. There were two other occasions over the next few weeks where I caught stolen sightings.

The first was one cool evening when we decided to take a walk to the Barnes & Noble that was a couple blocks away. We went in and looked around for a while. As we rode the escalator up to the second floor it became noticeable warmer upstairs. I unzipped my jacket. Jake didn’t have a jacket but his sweatshirt was over a t-shirt. He pulled his sweatshirt off and when he did, his t-shirt rode all the way up to armpits. He had inadvertently flashed the full expanse of his upper torso to not only me but the whole store full of people. As he got the sweatshirt off of his head, he quickly pulled his t-shirt down into position. I looked away before he looked at me. I didn’t want to be caught gawking. The exposure was brief, but thrilling and I again felt and involuntary stir in my pants.

The second time, it was a Thursday morning. On Thursdays, I have an earlier first class than Jake. He was still in his bed asleep when I was ready to leave. Jake like me, generally slept in just underwear and an undershirt with one loose blanket. The previous night had been particularly warm in the room. Before I walked out to start my day, I looked down at the sleeping Jake. His blanket had been cast aside and during his active sleep, his undershirt had twisted up around his chest. I was enjoying a nice, long look at that beautiful belly button.

As an added bonus, the threadbare, worn underwear he had on revealed much more than just the general shape of the organ it attempted to conceal. It had little more effect than that of sheer pantyhose. For all intents and purposes, he may as well have been naked. I had thought that Jake was a little smaller than me all around, but this was one area where he had me beat by a good inch. It was difficult to tear myself away and head to class.

Over those first weeks we grew to be even closer friends. Jake let me lend him some things from time to time. I made it clear that I was happy to help as a friend. I did not expect or want payback in any form. When he had a presentation to give, I lent him a dress shirt, nice pants and dress shoes. I was 5′ 11″ with a 30″ waist and 32″ inseam. Jake was 5′ 9″ with a 29″ waist and a 30″ inseam. We made due with a belt and by cuffing the pant legs.

For the shoes, I told Jake I wore size 11 and he said that would work for him. I knew that his only pair of shoes, those old tattered Vans, were a size 10. Jake had a habit of not wearing his shoes in the room. He would enter the room and immediately slip out of his shoes, leaving them Casibom Giriş side by side next to the door. I didn’t know if this stemmed from an old family rule of no shoes in the house or if he was afraid his old shoes were too dirty (or maybe too smelly) and he was embarrassed by them. At any rate, every time I entered or left the room when Jake was there I got to glance down inside those old, fraying shoes and saw the big “10” that was wearing out, but still visible in the heel. I hoped he wasn’t sliding around uncomfortably in my bigger shoes.

Whenever he did wear my stuff, it gave me a bit of a thrill to know his feet were in my shoes or my clothes were on his body. He never took anything of mine without asking, and usually it was me offering something to him. Whenever we were off campus together, I would pay for little things like a movie ticket or a fast food meal.

Jake helped me too. He did most of the work to keep our dorm room clean, he taught me how to do laundry and he tutored me in my Chemistry I class. Despite my attraction for Jake, things were going well. I really liked him as person. He was generous and caring. I kept telling myself that he was just my good friend.

Jake had never told me that he wasn’t gay. It would be easy to assume he was straight when I told him about myself and he said nothing. There were some subtle clues, however, that maybe he was gay and maybe he was interested in me. Or maybe it was just wishful thinking on my part and I was imagining things that weren’t really there.

One of the clues was how he allowed me to touch him. I know how that sounds, but it’s how I was raised. In my family if you walked past someone you were close with, a good friend or a family member, you would maybe touch their shoulder as you brushed by or tousle their hair. Or maybe light touch on the arm (or knee if sitting) while in conversation. As my friendship with Jake deepened and I felt more and more comfortable with him and these old habits resurfaced when we were together. The thing is, not only did Jake let me perform these small displays of affection, he reciprocated by doing the same with me.

Another clue happened the day I strained my back. I had been moving equipment and stacking chairs in the band room after class one day and lifted wrong and hurt my lower back. It wasn’t too bad, but when I got back to our room, Jake did notice that I was moving slowly and grimacing. He asked about it and I told him what happened. He offered to give me a massage.

I said, “I just need to rest it a little.”

Jake said, “I am actually really good at it. I can help you.”

I said, “I don’t want you to go to any trouble. I’ll be okay.”

He said, “Look, I really do know what I’m doing. I can make you feel better. I promise I won’t hurt you. What have I got to lose? Trust me. Let me do this.”

I eventually agreed and Jake told me to take off my shirt and lie down on my bed. I slipped off my shoes and pulled off my shirt. I stood there for a minute and I watched Jake’s eyes first travel down then back up the length of my body, dance around my shirtless torso and finally come to rest back on my eyes. One of his signature crooked smiles spread across his lips. He was taking in the sight of me and I let him enjoy it. I laid down as he had asked and he knelt on my bed, straddling my butt.

He began to massage my lower back. He was gentle at first, then he worked the affected area harder and deeper. He did know what he was doing and I could tell that it was helping. What I didn’t expect was that he would turn this into a full back massage. He knew it was just the lower back that was injured, but he began to increase his coverage up my spine, to my upper back and eventually to my shoulders and neck as well. He had big, strong hands and I was like putty in his grip. He lavished attention everywhere there was bare skin. I couldn’t help but let out some soft moans of pleasure as his fingers worked magic. When he lightly slid his fingertips from my armpits, across my ribs, down my sides and to my waistband, there was no way he didn’t notice the goosebumps he had caused to spring out in reaction.

When he had finished, I was lying there all tingly. He got up, but I couldn’t just yet. I had to stay as I was until the erection his massage had given me subsided. As I laid there waiting, Jake kept glancing at me and smiling. I thought he knew what he had done to me and he sure seemed proud of his accomplishment.

The third clue happened the next week when I had a chance reciprocate, and he let me. Jake had rushed into our room kind of late one evening, slipped out of his shoes as always, and grabbed his Biology book off his desk. He seemed a little frazzled and I asked what was wrong. He explained that labs had run long today and that he hadn’t started studying yet for tomorrow’s Biology exam. He jumped onto his bed sitting upright with his back against the headboard and his legs out in Casibom Yeni Giriş front of him. He was as stressed as I had ever seen him and he was trying too hard to read his book.

I said, “You’re the smartest person I know. I am sure you’d ace this test even if you didn’t study at all.”

He replied, “Tommy, this is serious. A bad grade could endanger my scholarship.” He was genuinely concerned.

I said, “Well, you need to relax a little. You won’t retain anything this way. Let me help you,” and I moved to sit on his bed.

He said, “I don’t have time for games here Tommy. I have to study.”

I said, “I know. I can see you’re serious. Trust me. I will not interfere. Your studying will be more effective if you calm down.”

I sat down on the middle of his bed with back against the wall. I lifted his feet onto my lap. I began a gentle rub through his sock.

Jake cocked an eyebrow and looked at me suspiciously, “Don’t tickle me,” he demanded.

I replied, “I won’t. I’m not here to distract you. I’m here to relax you.”

He settled in and started to read his textbook more calmly. I decided to work just one foot at a time in an effort to draw this process out as long as possible. I had fantasized about touching his feet since the day we met. I only wished that he was still wearing those beat up old Vans so I could slowly remove them myself as part of the program. As it was, he had just kicked them off and his socks were still lightly damp from the sweat of a long day in the lab. I addressed his right foot first. He was wearing old white gym socks that were graying with age and wearing thin at the heels. After massaging through the sock for a while, I hooked a finger inside and peeled it off. This cute guy’s sexy feet were in my lap and I felt a tightening in my pants.

I wouldn’t say I have a foot fetish per se, but I do usually like feet. They have to meet certain criteria for me though. They can’t be too small or too big. The wrong feet can be gross. They could be too bony or too hairy. The toes could be too long. They could smell bad. Jake had none of these problems. His feet were soft and smooth, his toenails were neatly trimmed and his size was a perfect 10. He did not have a foot odor issue. Instead, I was enjoying the light, musky aroma of manhood. I was intoxicated by his mild, manly scent.

I had to remind myself to not tickle him. As tempting as that was, I didn’t want to do anything that would cause the festivities to end. So I kept my word. I lovingly rubbed, massaged and stroked every part of that foot. I gave each toe individual attention. After about 30 minutes I moved on to the left foot. Having been ignored to this point that foot was more sensitive than the one I had just finished and I accidentally made him flinch and quiver a couple times. His fresh foot became desensitized and I proceeded with the same menu I had performed on the first foot. I really wanted to lick his arches and suck his toes, but I thought that might be too much.

After an hour of foot fun I began to work my hands up his calves one at a time. Neither one of us had spoken since this all began. I just let him study. I didn’t know if his leg in my lap could feel the hard on I had during this entire encounter, but it was there. As I continued to work his lower legs, I thought that maybe the bump of his crotch was a little more pronounced than usual. I didn’t think it would be appropriate to continue massaging his legs any higher, so I stopped. I put his socks back on for him and gave his feet a parting squeeze as I got up.

Jake said, “That did relax me. Thanks.”

“No problem.” I didn’t tell him that I probably enjoyed it more than he did.

A couple days later Jake told me that he aced that exam. I felt like I deserved part of the credit.

Later that day I was sitting at my desk, alone in our room (Jake had a late lab that day), thinking about these three incidents. Were they signals from Jake? Could he be gay? If he was gay, was he interested in me? Was he just messing with me? Did he think doing these things was a way to pay me back for the all the ways I had been helping him out? Or were these incidents not really incidents at all? Maybe I was reading too much into something innocent. I might have been hoping that nothing was actually something.

This is why I hadn’t wanted to be attracted to my roommate. If he had turned out to be some random straight guy, he could have told my about different girls he liked and I could have told him about guys I saw around campus. There would have been no complications. No chances of ruining a friendship or jeopardizing our roommate relationship. But no, there were all these mixed signals. Weren’t there? I couldn’t stop thinking about being with him. I was driving myself crazy.

I wanted to be brave. I wanted to tell him everything I was feeling. But I didn’t want to risk our friendship. I needed some air. I stood up and started for the door but the door suddenly swung in towards me. Jake rushed in and I said, “I was just stepping out…” He cut me off by grabbing me and pulling me into a tight embrace. He buried his face in my neck and kicked the door closed behind him with his foot.

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