Tom Christens The Flat

Tom staggered in through the door. He was half covered in mud, his football shirt soaked through and clinging to his muscular body. This was when he was happiest.

He grinned at me. "Alright mate?"

"Yeah not bad. Good practice?"

"Yeah, it was fun. I'm going to hit the shower though now."

"I'm making some pasta. Should I do for two?"

Tom grinned again and nodded. The only thing that made him happier than running around in the mud was carbohydrates. He pulled off his shirt as he w:walked down the corridor towards the bathroom, drops of muddy water falling off him onto the carpet. His back rippled.

He had been bulkier than me when we had first started uni, but a year of working out had improved his physique even more. An anatomy student could have used him as a chart. I heard the hiss of running water and switched on the kettle.

Pasta with cheese. A simple student meal.

It was two weeks before term officially started. September had arrived and brought with it a downpour which had ended any hopes of an Indian summer, or that this year would even have a summer at all. The other two with whom we would be sharing this flat had not yet arrived. Tom had shown up early for footy practice. The team's idea was to get as much training in as possible, before lectures and other pointless academic exercises got in the way. As far as some of Tom's teammates were concerned, football was the point of university. I had arrived early- well, it was better than home at the minute. I had thought that I would have the place to myself. Finding Tom in the building already was an unexpected bonus.

The kettle clicked off. I poured the boiling water into a pan, and threw in some farfalle. I began to grate the cheese. I've never claimed to be much of a chef.

"Er...mate?" Tom's voice came faintly from the bathroom.

"Yeah? What's up?" I shouted back.

"Don't suppose you could grab my towel off my bed?"

I snorted. Less than six months earlier I had seen every inch of his body as a woman took his cock slowly into her mouth. I had seen moonlight reflected off his bare arse as he fucked her from behind. I had seen the face he makes when he cums. The idea that he could possibly be shy about him naked now was faintly laughable, and so very English. Nevertheless, I took the pan off the heat and pushed open his door and grabbed his damp Fulham FC towel from the end of his bed.

He poked his head round the bathroom door and took it off me. "Thanks," he grunted, wrapping it round his waist and stepping out from the bathroom. "No problem," I said. Even if I hadn't seen him naked before, his towel left little to the imagination. It was small, and had to be pulled tight to completely cover him. There was a distinct bulge where it clung to his cock and balls. Out of instinct I averted my gaze. That made the two of us very English indeed.

I stepped back into the kitchen and opened a bottle of wine. We were second years now, and it was time that we learned how to live like classy adults. This meant cheap wine, to go with our cheap student meals. I poured two glasses, separated the pasta into two large bowls and covered each with a mound of cheese.

"Dinner is served!" I called, and began to shove forkfuls of bow tie pasta into my mouth. Tom quickly joined me at the table. He had pulled on a loose pair of jersey shorts, and that was it. He had never been shy about the rest of his body, and the summer's work had made him less so. His four pack had increased to a defined six pack. He was chiselled.

He leaned back and sipped at his wine. "So how was the summer? You've been pretty quiet since you came back."

"Ah you know, weird being home. It was hard really. I didn't realise how much I'd got used to being able to go out when I want, eat what I want. You know."

"Felt like a kid again?"

I smiled. "A bit. It's good to be back. How was your summer?"

"Ah pretty good, nice to see my old friends again. A few of them had missed me, I think." He winked at me. I smiled, thinly. Suddenly I felt as though I had wasted the summer and that life was passing me by. I had mostly spent the summer avoiding my parents' rows. I had not seen much of my school friends.

"What's your plan for this evening?" I said, to change the subject. "Do you want to watch a film or something?"

"Mm, would love to. But I'm heading back out in a bit, just for a drink or two. With the footy lads." He looked a bit shifty.

"Fair enough. Have fun."

We finished eating in silence. I slipped my plate into the sink for later and went back to my room, taking the rest of the bottle of wine with me. I glanced at the textbook propped open on my desk. That could also wait for later. I poured myself another glass of wine and sat on my bed, flicking through iplayer for something to distract me. I settled on

Have I Got News For You.

As the familiar credits rolled and the panellists began telling familiar jokes, I heard Tom's door click shut.

"See you later," he called. I grunted back.

The front door clicked. I was alone in the flat. I put my tablet on the bedside table. The programme was still running, the comedians stating the bleeding obvious about this weeks news but in a sarcastic tone of voice. I wasn't really paying attention.

Maybe I'll cheer up when term starts properly,

I thought.

It's just the changing seasons getting me down. I just need a bit of structure. Need to crack on with some work. Soon I'll be too busy to be miserable.

This last thought did little to cheer me up. The bells of the Baptist church across the road began to ring nine o'clock. It occurred to me that I hadn't slept properly in days.

Great. I've wasted a summer, I've wasted this evening, what a waste of time.

I finished the wine, and began to feel sleepy.

Better make the most of this.

I undressed, pissed, and slipped into bed without bothering to brush my teeth. I fell asleep in seconds.

I awoke to the sound of rain hammering on the window, and a sharp pain in my bladder. The last of the wine was ready to leave by the nearest available exit. I grabbed towel off the back of the door, wrapped it around my waist and dashed to the toilet.

When I emerged I could hear a low voice from Tom's room.

Must be on the phone,

I thought.

Probably to one of his many ladies back home.

I padded back into my room, relieved that he hadn't come out to say hello. For one thing, I will always be shyer about my body than he is. For another, I wasn't in the mood for any more social interaction this evening.

I slipped back into my bed, but sleep did not come. I lay there staring up at the ceiling. Thinking about Tom, and the differences between us. He was far more confident, more athletic, more attractive than me. When we had taken turns fucking that girl back before the break, and I had cum in seconds, he had stepped in, easy as you like, and taken over. Had he patted me on the shoulder? I wasn't sure. Condescending fuck if he had though, and it was the kind of thing he'd do.

I almost smiled. He wouldn't mean anything by it though. It was just the way he was.

He had stepped in and taken over though, and given her the seeing to of her life. I remembered

that

for sure. I had enjoyed the show.

And that was another worry. I had beaten off over the summer at least half a dozen times, thinking about Tom's abs, and arms, and the shape of his huge, smooth cock, darker than the rest of his body, slipping in and out of that girl's smooth mouth. Just this evening I had noticed the way his towel clung to the shape of his flaccid cock and two large, juicy spheres. I had ditched all my baggy boxers and started wearing tight boxer briefs, to try and be more like him. Without the huge curved bulge to fill them, though, the effect wasn't quite the same.

My cock twitched and I sighed. I was beginning to regret moving in with him.

Through the wall, I could still hear Tom's voice. Now that I was paying attention I could hear another voice, filling in the other half of the conversation.

Not on the phone then. One of the footy lads must have come back with him.

Maybe because of the rain.

I didn't think I was gay. I had certainly got over-excited about that threesome, and not because Tom was being noshed off in front of me. Up until now, I had been certain that I was all about the pussy, as far as I thought about it at all. I had got with a couple of girls at school. It had never occurred to me to try anything else. But now I was curious. Part of me wondered what it was like to get filled. Or to swallow a cock whole, and let it slip out of your mouth and paint your face.

There was crunch of bed springs next door. I rolled my eyes. Footy lads wrestling again. And here was me, wondering if

I

was maybe gay.

Absentmindedly I wrapped my fingers around my hard cock. Slowly I moved my hand up and down the shaft. This might be the only way to get to sleep. It occurred to me that the walls of this flat were clearly paper thin.

I spat on my hand and set to it again, slipping my hand slowly up and down, wrapping my fist over the head and then rolling it down my cock to the base.

I froze as a low moan came from the room next door. There was another crunch of bedsprings, as though two bodies had just moved together into a new position. Suddenly, it occurred to me that Tom probably didn't have one of the footy lads in there. It would be just like him to be the first to christen the flat. There was a thud on the wall that separated our rooms, as an outstretched arm slammed into it for support. My cock got even harder as I strained to imagine the two bodies on the other side of the partition wall.

Without knowing who he'd brought home with him, the only body I could imagine with any accuracy was Tom's.

I kicked my duvet onto the floor, exposing my naked body to the air as I quietly beat off. My imagination was in overdrive. In my mind's eye, Tom was slamming into Charlotte again. If the sounds through the wall only provided a sketch, my imagination was happily inking out the details and adding colour as well. I could see Charlotte, her black dress hoiked up over her waist again, her perky arse pointing upwards. She rested her head against her forearm, propped up against the wall, as Tom shoved his fat cock eagerly into her tight pussy.

In my head I was floating above Tom's bed, looking down at his sculpted back as he leaned over her. His hips were oscillating like a piston, his smooth arse clenching and unclenching as he pounded into her. I could see his dark cock slipping in and out, her pussy lips clinging to the tip as he nearly pulled out, before he shoved himself back in. I could see his bollocks slapping into her glowing arse cheeks. Back in reality, on my side of the wall, I gritted my teeth. I wondered if Tom was wearing a condom. I wondered what it felt like to have sex without a condom.

The mystery girl on the other side of the wall moaned again, low and animalistic. I had never heard a noise like that outside of porn. My cock twitched. I wanted to fuck like Tom, to fuck with raw power and control. At the same time I wanted to fuck Tom, if only to show him who was boss.

I grunted and spurted cum across my stomach. From next door came a dull thumping as Tom's bed began to rhythmically hit against the wall. I lay on my bed spent. From the sound of it, Tom was only just getting going. As my breathing slowed, and my eyes closed, it occurred to me that it was indeed a very thin wall. It was going to be a long year.