Years ago, I lived in a large college dorm with two roommates. It was an open space with three beds, three desks, three bureaus, and a small space of open carpet between us.
Some Fridays, we’d borrow a table from the floor’s common study area in order to have people over and play beer pong. A decent crowd would come through.
My ex, Z, had visited me to try the college party experience. We’d broken up years before and remained friends, but we’d occasionally fool around. We consumed copious amounts of alcohol and weed, and eventually everyone not living in the dorm left. Z and I went to bed but we slept from head-to-toe, because I wasn’t out as a bisexual man.
The next morning, Z and I woke up early, but the roommates were still sleeping. Silently, we snuggled despite being on opposite ends of the bed. Our pelvises were near each other, and I could feel his erection under the covers.
I reached under his shorts, formed a grip with my index finger and thumb at the base of his thick veiny dick, and started slowly but steadily stroking it. I held it tight in order to avoid rubbing since I wasn’t using lotion. Because he was upside down, it was more of a milking than a typical jack off.
He was hard as a rock and pulsating. I looked around to see if anyone was awake, but the other guys were asleep. The risk made the experience that much more intense, and I pitched my own tent and began to touch myself. When I wasn’t scoping around, I stared straight into the ceiling, detached from what my hands were doing while my mind was completely in the thrill of getting caught. My heart raced with each stroke. Every second felt like an eternity. Hurt so good.
Normally, Z wasn’t one to come easy, especially not from a dry tug. I momentarily took my eyes off the ceiling and looked down at Z. His face was red as he fought every urge to make noise while nearing climax. I looked back up to the ceiling. Maybe 30 seconds later, I could feel warm ropes of cum fly onto my hand, wrist and comforter.
I stopped touching myself and sighed from the excitement. He let out his own sigh.
After it was over, I heard one roommate shift in his bed suddenly. Maybe he was trying to let me know that he was awake and could hear us, out of courtesy. Or maybe he was just moving in his sleep.
Neither roommate ever brought it up.
Good times.
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