Flashed!

Freshmen

Freshmen

My freshman year at State, I spent more time flirting with my roommate Steve than I did on homework. Despite his protests, I thought he might be bluffing when he said he wasn’t gay. A jock, on scholarship, with tight buns and a c**k I could almost taste through his boxers…I wanted him, bad, from the moment we met. I dropped hints, feigned passes, but it was always the same. “Sorry, Mike,” he’d say. “I’m not like that.”

Didn’t hurt to try. When I headed home one weekend, I “accidentally” put a porn DVD in his Korn CD case. I also left a few copies of Freshmen scattered beneath my bed—he’d see them when he stooped down to raid my footlocker full of snacks. Nothing overt, really, but enough to get him thinking.

At most, I thought he’d call me on it when I got back. We’d have a laugh, I’d say something suggestive he would brush off, and that would be it. But when I unlocked the door to our room, I was surprised to find him on my bed, naked ass in the air, Jockeys down to his knees. A pair of my dirty briefs pulled over his face. One hand fisted in my sheets while the other yanked his d**k in short, hard thrusts. Glossy Freshmen models smiled up at us from the floor.

I shut the door.

“Mike,” he moaned, the hand between his legs squeezing out the thrill of being caught. He pushed my underwear aside to peer at me through a leghole. “Look…”

My hands fumbled with my belt, fingers pressing into my own erection as I unzipped my jeans. “Don’t move,” I told him as my pants slipped to the floor. Finally—I had him right where I wanted him.