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The Sophomore and Junior Years

A young man gets a memorable two years of college.

When I had graduated from high-school and was preparing to go to college my mother said it would be great if I roomed with the son of one of her friends. The university we both had chosen allowed for students to request roommates they knew.

My mother and Jason’s mother had met several years ago at the hairdressers and had become good friends. I therefore knew Jason but we had never developed a friendship, because we had nothing in common.

For example, he collected stamps, which I thought was lame. I built models, any kind, like planes or ships, which he thought was tedious. He liked tennis while I was a soccer fan. Jason listened to country-western music and I liked hip-hop.

But I decided it was better to team up with someone I knew than take a chance on getting a total flake. So we ended up together, and we got along. I didn’t blast my music and he listened to his when I wasn’t around. We spoke to each-other when we had something to say, but didn’t engage in idle chit-chat.

Within a few weeks after arriving we both had met and formed a distinctly different group of friends. And so the first year passed. Before the start of our second year Jason had decided to room with one of the new friends he had met. I, like an idiot, forgot to put in a request and therefore the university paired me up with someone else who hadn’t requested anyone particular.

When I arrived back on campus that September I was pretty worried about who I was going to end up living with for the next nine months. Was I relieved when I found my new room and roommate!

His name was Rodney, and he was a junior. He told me he preferred being called Rod, and let me describe Rod. He was big. I’d say about six-foot-one or two, and big. Not fat at all, but not with defined muscles.

What I’m trying to say is he wasn’t like those sculpted guys with six-pack abs and deltoids that stand out. He had biceps and a well-formed chest and flat stomach, but a thick waist and thighs. Oh, and what I think is called a bubble-butt. To me it was like the two halves of a cantaloupe. No, more like a honeydew melon, smooth as silk.

He had golden-blond curly hair that he wore in a buzz cut, so that the curls couldn’t complete their curl. His arms and legs were covered in fine golden hairs and his chest in a thick mat of darker blond hair that trailed in a line down his stomach, around his belly-button and on down to form another dark gold mat around his cock. His cock was fat, about four or five inches long when soft with almost half of that the head. Oh, did I mention he was also good-looking?

The reason I can describe all his attributes, including his cock, is that Rod was comfortable in his body. He didn’t parade around naked, but when he was going to take a shower he’d strip in our room, take his towel, soap and flip-flops and walk down the hall to the showers. (We had a wash basin in the room. The communal showers and toilets were in the middle of the building.)

Afterwards, back in the room, he would shave, brush his teeth and put on deodorant all before getting dressed. He could put on deck shoes, dark blue slacks (the word slacks fit Rod as well as the slacks did) and a plain white polo shirt and look like a model out of a magazine. I could say he looked almost as good dressed as he did naked.

Let me add one more thing about his looks, or rather about his cock.

One early morning I got up to go take a piss (Rod had laid down one rule… no pissing in the wash basin. A lot of the guys did that.) When I came back in the room I glanced over and saw that Rod was sleeping on his back, had kicked the sheet partly off and had an erection.

His hard cock was almost twice as long as soft, still fat and with visible veins running around it. Beautifully delicious! And one last important fact is Rod was a really great guy. I don’t have to catalogue all his good qualities. Just that he was great should suffice.

You’ll see how in some ways later.

The university was in a dry county so there were no liquor stores, nor did markets sell alcohol. You could only get beer in a bar or pool hall. Across the street from the campus was one of those bars, which closed at midnight.

One Friday night both Rod and I were there, but not together. He was standing at the bar with some of his buddies and I was in a booth with some of mine. We both got drunk and when the bar closed we met up staggering back to our room, helped each-other up the stairs, although I wasn’t much help with Rod’s size, struggled out of our clothes and fell into our beds.

I awoke before the sun was up but daylight had arrived. The window in our room was equipped with vertical blinds which we had failed to close, so the room was infused with light. I had to piss badly, but had no desire to stumble down the hall to the toilets. Rod was fast asleep, so I decided to break his one rule and got up and pissed in the wash basin. I sat down on my bed and looked across at Rod. There he lay, in all his golden beauty.

His boxers were gaped open and I could see his mat of dark blond pubic hair.

I’m not proud of what I did, but I don’t apologize for it.

I moved over to his bedside and crouching there, I inserted one finger in the open gap and felt around for his cock. It was warm and smooth. I ran my finger over it, then hooked my finger around it and worked it out through the opened fly. I leaned forward and took it into my mouth, pressing my face into that golden triangle, breathing deeply and taking in his unique smell.

I stayed there for a long minute, just letting his soft cock lie there in my warm mouth. Then I began massaging it with my tongue and then taking it out and kissing it and putting it back in and sucking it. Now I don’t know if someone truly asleep can get a hard-on. I mean, doesn’t the brain have to be connected for that to happen? Nevertheless, Rod’s cock grew and hardened, and I continued to suck and lick it.

Suddenly he woke up, looked down and said, “What the…Tom!?”

Without removing my mouth from his shaft I looked up at him. He grabbed my head, and instead of pulling me off, he held me fast and started shooting ounces of hot cum down my throat.

When his balls were drained he didn’t move for a couple of minutes, then he pushed me away and said, “I’ve got to get some more sleep. We’ll talk later.”

I went back to my bed, and with the taste of his cum still in my mouth I jacked- off, catching the cum in my briefs. When I next awoke it was after nine o’clock and Rod wasn’t there. I got up and took a long hot shower, shaved and was finishing dressing when Rod came in with two paper cups of steaming coffee, a couple of sweet rolls and a half gallon of vanilla ice cream.

I thanked him as he handed me one of the coffees and said, “Ice cream?”

He said, “It’s the best thing to settle your stomach when you’re hung over.”

We drank and ate in silence for several minutes, and then he said, “Tom, what you did to me this morning wasn’t right.”

I swallowed and opened my mouth to speak, but he continued, “I don’t mean sucking my cock. That’s another matter. I mean taking advantage of someone when they are sleeping is just wrong. And taking advantage of someone when they are drunk is double wrong. If you wanted to suck my cock then you should have manned up and asked me.”

I had been looking down at the floor, not wanting to meet his gaze, but I looked up and said, “But if I had asked, you would have said no.”

He said, “Well, that’s probably true, but it’s happened now, so the next time you want to, ask.”

I looked him in the eye and said, “I want to, so will you?”

He laughed and said, “My God man, there’s nothing left in my balls. Maybe tonight or tomorrow. And don’t think every time you ask I’m going to say yes.”

Well, it was the next night, which was Monday, that I sucked him again. From then until the end of the school year I don’t know how many times I sucked Rod’s cock… I lost count. But I never tired of doing it, and neither did he. Once in a while he’d ask me to do it.

We both put in requests for each other as roommates for fall. When we were back in school and settled in and back to having sex regularly I asked Rod to fuck me. Taking his cock up my asshole wasn’t easy, but we worked it out and fucking became part of our sex-life.

We each developed favorite positions. One of mine was flat on my stomach with my legs spread wide. This isn’t one I’m usually fond of, but I loved that big guy on top of me pounding my ass into the mattress. My other favorite was on my back with my legs resting on Rod’s shoulders. I loved that one because I could look into the face of that big golden god fucking me.

Rod also had two favorites. For one he sat crosswise on his bed, leaning back against the wall and I sat on his lap, impaling myself on his big cock. He’d lock his arms around me, pull me back against him and hold me tight while both of us bounced up and down.

The other was similar, but I thought slightly quirky. He lay stretched out on his bed with his head propped up on the headboard so he could see. I’d lower myself onto his cock, facing him, hold my balls and dick up out of the way so not to impede his view and “jump” up and down till he came. If my dick slipped out of my hand and slapped his stomach, he didn’t mind.

In fact, whether he was fucking me or I was sucking him he wanted me to come. He said it was only natural, and I should jack-off so we would come at the same time. If when I came I shot some of my cum on his stomach he was okay with it. Concern like that is why I said he was a great guy.

Shortly after we returned from spring break that year, I rimmed Rod’s ass for the first time, and he loved it. So we added that to our repertoire for the next three months.

As the cliché goes, all good things must come to an end. The school year ended again and Rod graduated and was out of my life.

I remember once when we were having a particularly intense session Rod said I was turning him gay.

Of course you can’t turn a straight person gay. If someone is gay but hasn’t figured it out yet you can turn them in the right direction so they acknowledge and accept it. And you can turn a straight guy towards realizing he can have a good time with a gay guy. Or maybe it was simpler than that. Maybe he was a bona fide bisexual, and I helped him discover that.

If I did, I’m glad, and I hope he remembers I’m the one who opened that door for him. Whatever, I am sure he remembers me and our time together as well as I remember him, and his beautiful cock.

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