Late in the first semester of my freshman year at college, I decided I needed a new dorm roommate. It was almost impossible to study in the rowdy, hard-partying dorm I started out in -- I needed a quieter dorm, and a roommate without an electric guitar and a well-used bong. My Resident Assistant said this would be difficult, since all the dorm rooms in the men's complex were occupied, but a few days later, on a Wednesday, he called me into his room.
"We've got an opening in a real quiet dorm, Harry. Just one thing. He's a little ... odd. His first roommate requested a transfer out, which is why there's this opening."
I shrugged. "Is he quiet? That's all I care about. I need to get some studying in."
My RA gnawed his lip. "Yeah, he's quiet. He's just, you know ... a bit queer. You catch my drift?"
Being a naΓ―ve kid from a hick town, I totally missed his meaning. "Great. Fine with me."
My RA narrowed his eyes, studying me, and then shrugged. "Um, OK. If you don't mind that -- I'll fill out the paperwork."
***
Friday night, after hours of studying, I was sitting with my new roommate, Tim, on the bottom half of a bunk bed, which doubled as the couch in our cramped narrow dorm room. We'd been drinking beer and talking story for about an hour, and I was wondering what the heck his previous roomie had found so objectionable about him. Tim was a slender, short guy with a button nose and an engaging, open personality. The subject rolled around to pornography, and Tim suggested popping one of his tapes in and watching it.
I shrugged. "Sure. Why not?"
Tim turned off the lights and popped in the tape, turning the sound down low so as not to offend our neighbors on the other side of the cinderblock walls. The tape featured large-breasted women in prison who, implausibly, were sucking and fucking each other and the guards without the prison warden getting any wiser. I started to get an erection, and snuck a peek in the dim, flickering light at Tim, who was rubbing the bulge in his crotch. He looked me in the eye and said, "Look, don't want to weird you out or anything, but this is really turning me on. Would you mind if I took my cock out while we watched?"
I hesitated, and then shrugged. What harm could that do? "OK, if you don't mind me doing it too."
Tim unzipped his jeans and took his cock out, which was half-erect, and started to knead it between his fingertips. I followed suit. I tried to keep my eyes on the video, but kept sneaking peeks at Tim's stiffening cock. After a few peeks, I caught him doing the same thing to me. I glanced away, embarrassed, but when I looked back he was still staring at my erection.
"Umm, look," Tim said, "it would feel better if we used a little lubricant." He raised an eyebrow, and I shrugged OK. Tim reached in his drawer of the nightstand at the base of the bunk beds and pulled out a tube labeled "K-Y Jelly". Tim popped the lid off, scooted closer to me, and squeezed some onto his left hand. Then he quickly reached over and started rubbing it onto my cockhead.
"What the fuck?" I said.
"Shhh. Not so loud. Our neighbors will hear." Tim kept rubbing with his soft, warm hand.
I thought about slapping his hand away, maybe punching him, but my smaller head had other ideas, as my cock got real hard and the blood started to pound in my ears, drowning out the moans from the woman getting fucked doggystyle on the TV screen.
Tim grinned. "Doesn't that feel better than using your own hand?"