I woke up that morning to the sun shining in my eyes. Grumbling I rolled over and clutched tighter to the thick grey Sherpa blanket I was sleeping under. Winters in Minnesota get pretty cold, and central heating only does so much. Still, the sun didn't go away. Giving up on sleeping in I rolled back the blanket and stretched by long, taught body. You see, in high school and college I had been quite the athlete. Being 6'4 and 200lbs of muscle I also had quite a fair share of success with the girls too. My bright blue eyes and all American smile made sure I was never lacking in sexual partners, despite my rather soft baby-face. However, regarding sex I carried one big secret, okay maybe two. The first was despite the fact (or perhaps because) I always automatically assumed the dominant role with the women I fucked (and there were no shortage of women wanting the hot track star to hold them down and fuck them with a fairly thick seven inch cock), I had an increasingly strong desire to be the sexually submissive partner. Even while I was fucking and choking my latest conquest I couldn't stop thinking about being overpowered myself, and used for their pleasure. For some reason though, perhaps given my athleticism, I could never quite imagine a woman being able to really hold me down and use me against my will. It just didn't seem possible. Don't get me wrong; I wasn't gay in the slightest. In fact I couldn't imagine every actually having feelings for a man, but I'd occasionally indulge myself in clicking on a few gay porn links just to find the dominant energy I was craving. Well, that wasn't the only reason.
The other reason leads me to my second, and much more embarrassing secret- for as long as I could remember I had been incredibly attracted to the texture of soft fleece or Sherpa material. It was my greatest shame, but there was nothing I could do about it. Just like fur or leather fetishists, even the sight, let alone the touch, of fleece clothing made me incredibly horny. I had only ever told one other person in my life about this; an ex-girlfriend who was surprisingly understanding. She was even more than willing to indulge me, either by letting me fuck her in a Patagonia sweater, or wearing her Sherpa neck warmer when she blew me. It was incredible, but we separated over a year ago, and from what I could tell from the internet, this specific niche fetish was almost entirely exclusive to males for some unknown reason. Still, despite these factors, I was entirely convinced I would never actually have any sexual experiences with a man, aside from the fleece and domination parts, it just seemed gross. Which leads me back to my day...
I finally rolled out of bed, still groggy and desperately in need of some coffee. Still in my underwear I trolled the kitchen for some to no avail. I shouted to my roommate Parker,
"Hey do we have any more coffee?" No answer. Must be out. I had lucked out finding Parker as a roommate. A mutual friend set us up when I moved to the cities and so far it had worked out perfectly. He was incredibly clean and neat, and very respectful 95% of the time. The other five percent were the weekend nights where he'd bring back someone and loudly fuck the shit out of them, unfortunately keeping me up, but that was tolerable given everything else. You see, Parker was bi, but a very dominant bi. He'd fuck the shit out of just about everything and everyone. I thought I was pretty successful sexually, but Parker always had someone over. It made sense, he was six foot, not as muscular as me, but with an athletic build none the less. His two biggest weapons as far as I could tell were his chiseled jaw and eight inch, soda can cock- I know this because just about everyone he fucks loudly moans about it.
That morning though, he was gone, and we were out of coffee. Determined to get some caffeine, I started fill up the kettle for some tea, but as I turned on the faucet, I absentmindedly forget to open up the top, and sprayed water all over my underwear. Cursing to myself I went back to my room to change out of my underwear, but being too lazy to do laundry regularly, I had no underwear left. Whatever, I'll just put on a pair of joggers I thought. I grabbed the first pair in my drawer, throwing them on commando and quickly realized they were the Sherpa lined ones I recently bought for my own pleasure. You see, by that point I had accumulated quite the collection of fleece and Sherpa clothing items, either for sex with my ex or just to jack off in. Feeling the Sherpa fabric resting against my cock, I started to grow hard again. It didn't help that I had just woken up as I was always extra-horny in the morning. Still, Parker was gone; I might as well take the opportunity to pleasure myself. Going over to my closet, I slipped on one of my Patagonia sweaters, and pulled out a long, thick Sherpa infinity scarf to cover my face while I jacked off. I liked to blindfold and gag myself with fleece and imagine someone was holding me hostage and fucking me against my will. It also didn't hurt that the feeling of the fabric against my face made me incredibly hard. At that very moment though, I heard something like the front door closing. Thinking nothing of it, I bent over my bed, face down ass up, lying self-gagged over my Sherpa blanket, and begin stroking myself off thinking of how I used to fuck my ex like this. I must of looked incredibly embarrassing but that thought only made it hotter. After edging myself a few times, the floor near my room unmistakably creaked. Quickly stopping and pulling my pants up, I pulled off the infinity scar, tossed it on my bed and went to the living room to investigate. No one. Then on a hunch, I went over to Parker's room. There, Parker just sat on his bed, scrolling through his phone. Breaking the awkward silence I addressed him.
"Oh hey, where were you this morning?"
He looks up, seemingly slightly embarrassed.
"I just went to the store to grab some eggs for breakfast."
"Nice, sounds good." I clumsily replied.
At that point I noticed his outfit. He was wearing an expensive cream colored, hooded Sherpa sweater with navy joggers. Even more noticeable was the shape of his large cock pressing out from the joggers in the crotch area. Remembering the creaking...
"Hey were you uhh, just over by my room?" I asked stammering. He awkwardly chuckles.
"If you're asking if I saw you beating off in that weird fuzzy outfit you were wearing, yes I did." He motions to my Patagonia sweater and turns back to his phone. Growing red and incredibly embarrassed I hastily blurt,
"I like the texture okay, I know its weird but I can't help it. Sue me."
"Jeez jeez relax I wasn't judging. I get it, it's kind of bedroom casual. It's a reasonable association." Taken completely aback I give a small gasp.
