Roommate Intoxication

Moving into my dorm at the start of freshman year, I had low expectations of the guy I'd be sharing a room with. Toby had such a common last name that I couldn't find him on any social media, so I entered our living situation together completely blind.

My parents had helped me unpack and were long gone when he showed up at nearly the last minute. I'd returned from some pre-orientation social bullshit to find him at the tail end of unpacking.

"Sup," he greeted me with a casual nod of his head.

"Hey, man," I replied and shut the door. "I'm Liam."

"Toby."

I kicked my shoes off and took a few tentative steps forward.

"You, uh, need any help or...?"

"Nah, I'm pretty much done. Didn't really bring too much shit. Less to unpack, you know?"

I bobbed my head in affirmation and cast a long glance around the room. He hadn't exaggerated. The only big items he seemed to have brought were a TV, an Xbox, and a gaming chair, all of which he'd assembled around the desk pushed up against the wall on his side of the room.

"You game at all?" He asked, noticing me eyeing his setup.

"A bit, but I didn't bring my PS5 with me."

"Ah, well, I play a lot, so if you ever wanna join, I'm always up for some one on one."

"Nice, I'll definitely take you up on that."

"Yeah? You wanna get a game going right now?"

"You don't need to finish settling in?"

"Nah," he waved his hand dismissively, "like I said, I didn't bring much shit."

"Alright, well then sure," I shrugged.

"Sweet."

He set a game of FIFA up and just as I was pulling my own standard issue desk chair up, Toby turned to me, one eyebrow raised questioningly.

"You smoke weed?"

I'm not sure why his question took me by such surprise. Maybe it was how direct he was about it or the fact that we'd barely just met, but it took me a second to answer.

"Oh, uh, yeah, sure."

Truth be told, I hadn't ever smoked or drank that much before. My parents were strict and I had always been paranoid that they'd find out, but I had been looking forward to partying more in college than I had in high school.

"Excellent," he enthused before fishing a small bowl, a grinder full of weed, and a lighter out from the top draw of his nightstand.

Quickly packing and lighting the bowl, he took a big hit before passing it to me. Having never taken more than a few puffs off a blunt before, I mimicked his actions but took a much smaller hit, knowing that I'd be too stoned to function if I'd inhaled as much as he had.

I coughed out the smoke and passed the bowl back to Toby, who grinned down at me as he took it.

"We'll make a stoner out of you yet," he joked.

I attempted to smile back in between coughs, causing him to laugh.

We spent the rest of the afternoon playing video games before deciding to head down to one of the dining halls for dinner, the weed having made us ravenous.

I stood waiting as Toby pulled on a pair of white ribbed crew socks. When he got up to slip his feet into a pair of beat up slides, I glanced at the reflection of the two of us in the mirror I'd hung on the back of the door and noticed just how markedly different we looked from one another.

While both of us were around 5'10, Toby had a pretty average build whereas my physique was toned from years of competitive swimming. His dark, collar length hair hung lank and his upper lip had the telltale peach fuzz of a teenager who was not yet able to grow a full mustache but was too lazy to shave what little hair had begun sprouting, whereas my smooth, clean shaven face matched the tidiness of my short, closely cropped blonde hair.

Factor in that he was wearing a tank top and cotton shorts compared to my polo shirt and jeans, we couldn't have been more opposite.

But when Toby came up beside me, clapped me on the shoulder, and confidently proclaimed, "Look at those two studs," while grinning at our reflection, I couldn't help but grin back and embrace the cliched sitcom-esque scenario that we appeared to have been thrust into.

We headed out to dinner and upon returning, Toby again offered to smoke me out, but I politely declined, still a little high from earlier. He shrugged and packed another bowl for himself before settling down to play video games again.

I watched Netflix for a bit before going to bed early, the pull of sleep heavy after having gotten so high earlier. Toby was still locked into his game when I fell asleep and he seemed no closer to calling it quits than when he'd started earlier.

------

I pushed open the door to my dorm room and shuffled inside, chortling quietly to myself when I spotted Toby still passed out in bed. He was lying on his stomach, hair matted and mouth ajar, snoring lightly, the sheets haphazardly strewn about. Even though it was nearly noon, I wasn't at all surprised.

Our first afternoon together several weeks ago ended up being indicative of how Toby would spend most of his time; getting high and playing video games, which is exactly what he'd been up late doing last night.

Truth be told, it actually didn't bother me that much. He made sure the room didn't reek of weed and always offered to smoke me out, which I sometimes took him up on. Hell, he even said that I could help myself to his stash when he wasn't around, which he was more often than not.

Toby only seemed to attend class about half the time, something I personally couldn't imagine doing.

"I go enough to pass," he'd said with a crooked smile and a casual shrug when I'd asked him about it one day, which to be fair, wasn't hard to do. Our college was a second rate state school in Florida. The bar wasn't exactly super high.

Despite entering quietly though, the sound of the door closing still roused Toby from his slumber, and he groaned, barely lifting his head to look at me through bleary eyes.

"Damn, is it 3 already?"

He knew I usually didn't get back until mid-afternoon on Mondays.

"Nah," I told him, plopping my backpack onto the desk. "I just stopped by to grab some Bio notes before class. I'll be in and out."

"Good," Toby rolled over onto his back and began to stretch. "'Cause I really need to rub one out."

I glanced over and saw his morning wood tenting out obscenely from the front of his underwear before quickly looking away, my cheeks coloring slightly in embarrassment.

During our first couple days living together, it became pretty apparent that Toby lacked a healthy amount of modesty. Unless he had to leave our room for whatever reason, he was always lounging around in just his underwear, which meant I rarely saw him in anything other than a cheap pair of boxer briefs, something I was not at all used to.

As the only child from a relatively formal household, I didn't grow up with the type of casual behavior and attitude that someone from a more laid back family or who'd had brothers might have, which made it a bit difficult for me to adjust to Toby's lax manner of dress as well as certain habits that he was less than discreet about.

I'd gotten better about it, but I still wasn't quite used to it all, mainly because Toby was hung like a horse and completely unabashed about having his prodigious bulge casually on display all the time.

One evening during the first week of classes, we were both in our room together. Toby was playing video games while I sat hunched over my desk getting a jump on some reading for a Lit class.

"Hey, you wanna grab some food or something?" He asked me. "I'm fucking starving."

I sat up and swiveled around to answer him but came to an abrupt halt, the words dying on my lips.

Toby was slunk low in his chair with his left leg propped up on the desk, allowing his large, flaccid member to bulge prominently against the tight constraints of his underwear, which kept it pressed firmly along the length of his inner thigh.

I sat there dumbfounded until I realized that I hadn't answered him and was just gawking open mouthed at his substantial package.

I was finally able to look away, meeting Toby's gaze just as he paused the ongoing game to turn his head toward me.

"Uhh...," I stammered, scrambling to form a sentence.

"You good, bro?" Toby raised an eyebrow, but remained seated, not at all concerned about his dick jutting out the way it was.

"Yeah, sorry," I laughed, a little nervously, and shook my head. "Took me a sec to come out of my reading coma. Shakespeare, you know?"

"Fuck, I know what you mean," he rolled his eyes. "Anyway, you up for some food?"

"Yeah, I'm game."

"Bet, mind if we order something? I'm already tired of the shit that this school serves."

I made a concerted effort to maintain eye contact while we discussed dinner options, too awkward and embarrassed not to, especially when he offhandedly began readjusting himself.

I stared into my backpack as I shoved the notebook inside and readjusted the contents.

"Well," I said, pulling the zipper closed, "I guess I'll leave you to it then."

Toby chuckled lightly as I slung the back over my shoulder and headed out, not looking in his direction.

Even though I'd been exposed to plenty of locker room talk and behavior over the years, encountering it in such close proximity within my own personal living space and by someone who was a practical stranger left me a bit untethered, and the entire walk to class I was distracted by the knowledge that Toby was back in our room jerking his big cock.

------

That Friday night, I came back early from a party that turned out to be a dud to find myself alone, something which surprised me.

So far, Toby had spent every Friday and Saturday night exactly as he spent every other night, even when I had invited him out.

"Not really my thing," he'd declined after I'd asked if he wanted to tag along to a house party an acquaintance of mine had thrown the first Saturday of the semester.

I couldn't imagine that he'd somehow had a change of heart, especially after declining a similar invitation I'd extended earlier in the evening.

Since I didn't have any other plans and it was still relatively early, I had planned on asking Toby if he wouldn't mind smoking me out. But since he was gone, I debated about waiting for him to get back or just testing out his previous offer to help myself to his stash when I was alone.

After about a minute, I shrugged and opted for the latter option. Toby was a pretty chill guy, we got along great, and he seemed genuine about his offer.

I opened the top drawer of his nightstand where I knew he kept his supplies and paused. Inside, laying next to the grinder, bowl, and lighter, was a fleshlight.

My eyebrows shot up, then I snorted before breaking out in an amused grin.

This guy is such a fiend, I thought to myself.

While initially caught off guard by my discovery, the fact that Toby owned a fleshlight made sense the more I thought about it. He had a very high sex drive.

Several times I'd heard him not so quietly jerking off in bed only a few feet away when it was late at night and he thought I was asleep.

Personally, I was too self-conscious to jerk off with someone else in the room, or in the communal shower while the other stalls were in use, which Toby had admitted to doing on more than one occasion.

But if I was being honest, I kinda admired the guy for how comfortable he seemed to be with his own sexuality. He just took care of business when he needed to, anyway he needed to, and didn't give a fuck about who knew. It was the type of attitude I lacked, and probably why I was so sexually frustrated, having cut way back on jerking off now that I didn't have a room to myself like I did at home.

I removed the items I needed to pack a small bowl for myself before carefully replacing each one once I was finished smoking, ensuring that Toby wouldn't realize I had discovered his toy, although I realized later on that he probably wouldn't have cared.

-----

Toby and I strolled casually down the sidewalk, chatting back and forth about nothing in particular. Even though the dining hall was only a short walk away, we still roasted in the heat of the early evening.

Over a month into the semester and the two of us were getting along well despite some major contrasts in our personalities and lifestyle habits.

Since we'd started living together, the floor had accumulated all of Toby's dirty clothes. I don't think he had done a single load of laundry, just constantly rotated between each item he owned, which were already pretty ripe from exposure to the humid and oppressive Florida heat. I'm also sure that the messy, crumpled sheets on his bed were the same set he'd first put on when we moved in.

This was all on par for Toby's hygiene habits in general, which I would describe as inconsistent at best. It wasn't uncommon for him to go a day or two without showering, seemingly fine with letting himself get a bit greasy before feeling it was necessary to bathe.

As a result, our room had begun to acquire a rather particular smell.

I couldn't quite figure out what it was initially, mostly because it was so faint at first that I only got the occasional, brief whiff. But over time, as it began to grow stronger and permeate the air, I was finally able to identify it as the musky scent of sweaty teenage boy.

Since my neat freak of a mother had crazy cleaning habits that left our spotless house bereft of any scent that didn't come from a Glade plug in, I wasn't used to living with the type of perspiration tinged stench more commonly found in a locker room, but oddly enough, I didn't really find it to be unpleasant. Perhaps it was because I had been exposed to his body odor from the very beginning or that I had grown sick of the various cloying fragrances back home, but either way, I remained unbothered by the fact that our room perpetually smelled of him.

I think it helped that I genuinely like Toby too. We had developed an amicable friendship and hung out a healthy amount, although it mostly consisted of just playing video games and smoking weed, which is all Toby ever did, but still, I was relieved to be living with someone I vibed with.

The dining hall wasn't as packed as it would have been later on, so there were plenty of options to load our trays with. While I was debating about which entree to choose, a couple of girls came up to the salad bar beside us.

I could see Toby discreetly checking out the one closest to him, a pretty brunette with a nose ring. They were talking about a popular bar that had recently closed down, and Toby eavesdropped, waiting for an opportunity to jump in.

"It just really sucks," the brunette was saying, "I'm really gonna miss their semester kick off nights."

"And their annual Beer Olympics," Toby interjected casually.

This earned a smile from me as Toby had never even been inside the bar they were talking about.

"Yessss," the brunette enthused. "Those were so fun."

Mmm," Toby nodded in agreement. "Really bummed that they went under."

"For real."

"You know, if you're looking for a new spot, I actually know somewhere else that's a lot more fun."

"Oh yeah? Where?"

"My place," he answered playfully, drawing a giggle from the brunette and a snort of amusement from her friend.

"Good one," she told him, smiling.

Toby shrugged, "Figured I'd take a shot. A girl as pretty as you is worth the potential rejection."

He gave the brunette a charming smile and I watched hers brighten as she angled herself toward him.

I slowly loaded up my tray, listening while Toby continued flirting with nose ring girl. When he asked for her Snapchat and she gave it to him, I shook my head, impressed and a little in awe.

This wasn't the first time I'd seen him flirt successfully with some random girl we'd run into. Despite being a complete homebody, Toby was actually quite skilled at picking up women, which surprised me. Not because he was ugly or anything. Truth be told, he was pretty average looking, but his gregarious personality made him very adept at flirting, so I could understand how some girls would find him attractive despite his lack of natural good looks and kind of trashy appearance.

He turned back to me with a smirk on his face and waited until the girls were out of earshot before boasting, "Another hoe to notch on my bedpost."

I shook my head again, but I wore a small smile of my own.

"I dunno how you do it, bro. Truly."

"It's the rizz, man, that's all."

"Yeah that's kinda what I struggle with," I admitted to him as we sat down at a table nearby. "Sometimes I just don't know what to say."

"Look, it's not about what you say, it's how you say it."

"Meaning..."

"Meaning just be confident," he said through a mouthful of meatloaf. "If you're sure of yourself, it'll show in the way you talk to girls, and they eat that shit up."

"Really? It's just that easy?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

"Well shit," I muttered, mostly to myself.

"I take it you don't have that much experience with girls," he said it more like a statement than a question.

"Honestly, not really. I dated the same girl throughout most of high school."

"I mean, it's not like you lack the opportunity to practice here."

"That's true."

"You met anyone you'd be interested in hooking up with?"

"Well there is this one girl..." I trailed off, thinking of Angela, my lab partner in bio.

With her long red hair, glasses, and sizable rack, she was absolutely gorgeous. I'd had a thing for her since the semester started.

"So shoot your shot, bro. What's the worst that could happen?"

"She turns me down," I stated matter of factly.

Toby shrugged dismissively, "Who cares? There's plenty of other girls at this school to get with, isn't there?"

"Yeah," I nodded. "There are."

"And if she did turn you down, you'd at least walk away with some much needed experience under your belt. So it wouldn't be a complete failure."

"I don't know if I'd say 'much needed'..."

"When was the last time you got laid?"

There was a beat of silence.

"Ok, fair point," I conceded.

"Exactly. Every hoe that turns you down is just practice for the next one. That pretty face will only get you so far you know," he said with a sly wink.

I glanced shyly away, simultaneously embarrassed and oddly pleased by his compliment.

"Alright, I get what you mean."

"See, and hey, maybe it works out right off the bat and you finally get some pussy."

"God, I hope so."

Toby studied me for a second, noting the dejection in my voice, "It really been that long?"

"Since June."

He whistled long and low.

"Damn, bro. I don't know how you haven't gone crazy yet. I've been fucking this girl from my stats class pretty regularly and I still need to beat off every day."

I focused intently on my food, trying to appear casual while avoiding eye contact, "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, man. She's a little on the chubby side, but her face is pretty and she's got a nice set of tits."

I nodded silently, still refusing to look up in the hope that he wouldn't notice my face had flushed from shame at the mention of his sex life.

Last week, I spent Sunday with some friends and returned that evening to find our room empty but absolutely reeking of sex; the nasty, intense sort, when two sweaty people eagerly humped each other's brains out.

The sheets of Toby's unmade bed were predictably rumpled but in the center was a large wet spot, still fresh, that I knew was from the rutting he'd no doubt been up to all day.

The scent of Toby's fervent fucking, which saturated the air of our small, enclosed room, instantly brought back a flood of memories from when I used to fuck my ex-girlfriend in the backseat of my car, and weeks of pent up sexual frustration finally boiled over as my cock rapidly hardened to an almost painful state.

Without thinking and fueled by a sudden, excruciating lust, I popped open the button of my shorts and yanked the zipper down before freeing my throbbing erection.