Who Turned Out Whom?

I knew I was in for it when Chris showed me the place.

He came to the door shirtless in what I came to know as his regular household uniform — a pair of classic, crisp white cotton boxer shorts and nothing else besides a deep tan.

Normally that would be an instant "no" for a potential roommate but, if you saw him, you'd know why I continued to tour the apartment.

He was extremely handsome with closely cropped black hair, brown eyes, a strong jaw, and a trace of dark stubble on his cheeks leading down to a deep notch in his chin. He could have come to the door fully nude and I wouldn't have batted an eyelash (whoops! the thought of it started to get me a little too turned on. Down boy!)

As he showed me the apartment — not bad, a shared living room, a tiny bedroom, and my own private bathroom — I acted as though everything were completely chill. Meanwhile, most of my attention was drawn to his impressive physique. He wasn't tall but had a body like a small adonis: a thick rippled trunk, big arms, narrow hips with a muscular butt that protruded out to form a sexy shelf, and sturdy legs covered in black hair. I somehow hadn't admitted to myself that I was gay (which, duh), and I acted totally straight (or so I thought), so I don't think he suspected anything. But day-um. He was hot.

I snapped out of my reverie as I realized his mouth was moving. He seemed to be telling me about the local amenities."...Grocery store a block away. And there's also a great gym nearby," he added.

"Great, I'll be spending a lot of time there," I said.

"Looks like it," he said, seeming to appraise my own body with his gaze, "I can spot a fellow gym rat a mile away."

I guess I should mention that I was no slouch in the muscle department. Fairly obsessive about my workout regimen, I don't mind saying I was in pretty peak physical condition, something that Chris seemed to notice (which I enjoyed more than was rational).

The place was nice, and the rent wasn't that bad. Did I hesitate momentarily because of my intense attraction to my future roommate and the complications it could bring? Yes. But that intense attraction ended up winning out.

Once I moved in, I began to learn a lot more about Chris and all of his habits. For one, as soon as he arrived home from work in suit and tie (he looked hot in those too), he would immediately head to his room and change back into a pair of those white boxers, of which he must have had endless pairs. Hey, I wasn't going to stop the guy from being comfortable, and he was definitely easy on the eyes.

The other big thing I became acquainted with was his relationship with his girlfriend, Alma, and how frequently, and loudly, they liked to celebrate their lust for one another. I met her the day after I moved in. She was cute, Latin with dark curly hair, perky tits, and a tight little body. She seemed nice, but we didn't have that much time to talk — as soon as he could, he'd spirited her away inside his bedroom where, for the next two hours or so I would hear the sounds of very loud, very vocal copulation.

To be honest, I tried to ignore it and at first was a bit annoyed. I had some work to do that I needed to finish before morning. But as I sat down to work at my desk, there was no keeping images of their session out of my imagination.

For one, Alma couldn't stop going on about the size of Chris's dick, which definitely got the mental images going. Things like, "Fuck me with your big cock!" "God, that cock is so big!" "Fuck, I can't even wrap my fingers around it!" I mean, she was really painting a vivid mental picture with her words, and, as we've seen, being around Chris so often had made my imagination very receptive to that kind of thinking.

Of course, I'd snuck peaks at his package before, which filled out the crotch of his boxers splendidly, and seen hints of his cock wobbling beneath the thin material whenever he walked. I had guessed at the prodigious girth of what lay beneath, but Alma's de***********ions seemed to conjure up something even more impressive than what I'd imagined.

But it wasn't just Alma's voice echoing from the bedroom, Chris was also surprisingly vocal during the act, especially when he came, something that happened at least twice per session, and often more than that — three or four was actually the norm. He was insatiable.

Hearing these moans, while lying in my bed, I began to truly recognize my desire for Chris. All I could think about as I listened to them was his naked body covered in a thin sheen of sweat, pumping an incredible looking cock into his feisty little girlfriend and, I'm not (that) ashamed to say, I started to touch myself while I listened and fantasized and actually found myself arriving at some of the most powerful climaxes I'd ever experienced.

And, if I'm honest, it was coming this close to raw male sexuality that really made me recognize my own repressed desires. All of a sudden it was completely clear to me that some part of me had liked men the whole time, but this experience — of focusing so closely on my fantasies of Chris - made it undeniable.

In my normal life I still wasn't open about being gay, and my only outlet for it was these more or less nightly sessions — listening to Chris and Alma fucking as I touched myself and imagined every moment as if I were right there in the room.

And then, just like that, the fun stopped. Chris and Alma headed off on a vacation and I was left alone in the house.

Frankly, I didn't know what to do. Without my nightly release, I was feeling very frustrated. The experience of awakening to my deep desire for Chris was really profound — it was almost an obsession for me. I went for a long run to try to get it out of my head, but, showering afterward, I still couldn't get the images of him (really clear, really hot images) out of my head.

One day after an extremely distracted day at work where I just couldn't get him out of my head, I found myself at loose ends as I came into the apartment. What could I do to satisfy these urges I had? How could I quiet these feelings?

I soon found myself entering Chris's room to...well, I didn't even know why — I guess I wasn't really thinking at all, but following my lust. I badly wanted to find something to help satisfy it — was it a pair of those boxers that could help? No. A sniff of his cologne? All it did to smell his fragrance was to make my aching hard-on worse.

I decided to search a little deeper, looking through his shelves, but I only found boring books on business and accounting, a couple framed photos of Alma, and an old signed baseball.

I opened back up his underwear drawer — hadn't I seen something in there? Well, besides many, many pairs of his white boxers, there was an industrial sized bottle of lube, and far in the back there was something else — a small USB hard drive. I grabbed the drive and looked a bit closer — on it there was a small label made with one of those office labelmakers that simply said "Alma."

I decided to take a look, and took the drive back to my room.

I hooked it up to my laptop, turned it on, and opened the drive to see a long list of video files each labeled "Alma" with a corresponding number. Of course, I immediately clicked one open and was gobsmacked to see a man's muscular back, straining, below which a majestic ass and thighs, dimly lit, pumped into someone who lay below who I could only imagine was Alma. I would recognize that back and those shoulders anywhere — I had committed every millimeter of it to memory, but never quite like this. I skipped forward and there was Chris sucking on an erect nipple. Here was a giant cock spurting thick white rivulets onto Alma's smiling face. I was finally getting a chance to see Chris in all his glory, and the intense horniness it inspired was like nothing I'd ever felt.

I pulled out my cock quickly bringing myself to orgasm within seconds.

With Alma and Chris away, watching these videos became a substitute to my nightly sessions and I watched every video closely, some multiple times. I'm a bit ashamed to say I even called in sick from work one day and spent the whole time watching and pleasuring myself. The catalog was deep and various. I watched a new video every night and was pretty confident I could continue and wouldn't have a repeat for months.

My favorite were their frequent forays into anal sex, which both of them seemed to thoroughly enjoy — maybe it was because that was my strongest, and most shameful fantasy — to think of Chris above me, reaming my ass with his splendid showstopper. I delighted in the look of pleasure and pain on Alma's face as she squealed and took each thrust, and I yearned for that heady mix of sensations to fill my own body.

Meanwhile, Chris and Alma had been gone so long, it seemed like they were never coming back. I became a bit careless and brazen - hooking up my laptop to the big screen TV, putting on my bluetooth headphones, doing everything I could to experience the footage in the most realistic way possible.

And then, of course, the inevitable happened.

What was I thinking? Of course this solitude couldn't last forever. When Chris walked in, I was just about to cum as, on screen, he was about to push his beautiful, erect cock (which I now knew very intimately) into Alma's eager pussy.

When I heard him enter, I jumped up, cock fully erect, looked at him with no idea what to do, and ran into my room.

Of course, the video was still playing and now I had no way of stopping it. I waited in silence in my room, hearing the familiar sounds from the video continue — Chris's sexy voice moaning as he came. All of a sudden it turned off. Dead silence. I was too afraid to continue jerking off and went to bed with blue balls. I could barely fall asleep as I tried to listen for any hint outside my bedroom. I feared that he might confront me in my room, but I didn't hear anything.

The thing is, I felt sure that Chris would comprehend everything at that moment — how much I'd wanted him, how much I'd fantasized and lusted after him up to that point, and that he'd hate me after that point, and even want to cause me harm.

But I steeled myself, knowing that the only thing I could do was to face the music. The next day, I got ready for work quickly and left, not seeing him on my way out. I was distracted throughout the workday — a strange mix of fear, dread, and lust as fantasies flew through my head of the whole thing going very differently — him walking in, seeing the video, and stripping down to those white boxers, now with a huge tent in them, walking up to me and kissing me hard on the mouth. I jerked off in the bathroom on my lunch break.

When I got home, he was there waiting for me, yes, in his boxers looking as sexy as ever (which I found surprising, given the circumstances). Remembering my earlier fantasy, I even felt my cock begin to harden and I had to struggle for self control.

"We gotta talk," he said, inviting me to sit down beside him on the living room couch. I sat down, cautiously, on guard, not knowing what would happen next. Chris was pretty much as straight as they come — who knows how he would take the knowledge that his roommate had been jerking off to private, nude images of him.

"Bro - I think you know what I'm gonna say," he said. I nodded and looked down at the ground, ready to hear whatever terrible thing he was going to tell me.

"Look — I know Alma's hot," he continued, "And I mean, any guy can see that, but..."

My mind whirled as I tried to understand what he was talking about.

"The fact that you were jerking off to her like that...I mean," at that point I couldn't tell if he was going to cry or punch me, "I just don't see how you could continue living here."

As I stared at the floor, the realization slowly began to creep over me. As remarkable as it sounded, he thought that I was watching the video because of an attraction to Alma, and not to him. It was actually perfect! Except, it seemed like it was somehow even worse at that moment. I didn't want to get kicked out of my house — and he really did seem to feel almost violently toward me. So I did that only thing I could...

"Hold on a second," I said, thinking fast. "I think you've got it all wrong."

He looked at me skeptically. "Oh really?" he said with sarcasm, "I got it wrong that you were masturbating to a video of my girlfriend?" he asked, with anger in his voice.

"Exactly!" I said.

"You mean, the thing I saw with my own two eyes?" he asked.

"Well - look that's not quite what you saw," I said.

"Oh really?" he asked.

"No!" I said, ready to prove my point, but worried what would happen if I did.

"I wasn't watching Alma, Chris." I said, waiting before I continued. "I mean, I'm not proud to say this but...I was watching you." I said.

We sat there in silence. He stared at the ground thinking. "Yeah right," he finally said.

"Dude, I'm fucking gay," I said. "For real, I'm really sorry for invading your privacy, and I understand if you're pissed, but there's no way I'm into Alma if that's what you're upset about." I said, "Sincerely, I was just watching you."

I saw him thinking for a little longer. Then he looked up at me and kind of laughed. "Really?" he said, looking a bit relieved.

"Yeah," I said sheepishly. "I mean, I'm really sorry," I said.

He kept looking at me and kind of laughed. "I don't know if I believe you bro," he said, "But I'm starting to think you might be right?"

We sat there in silence for a moment. It was awkward as hell, but I also felt a charge in the air. It must have just been delusional wishful thinking, but my fantasy of kissing him was coming back and I almost felt like swooning into his arms.

"Alright," he said, "This is kind of weird so. I'm headed to my room. Sleep well or whatever," he said. And that was that. For a little while.

Things kind of returned to normal around the house. I went to work, came home, crossed paths with Chris and we were cordial to one another, him still in his cute boxers. Alma was still out of town, she had had to go back to her hometown for a family emergency right after their vacation so nothing happened in the evenings, and I continued to miss my nightly fix. I could only imagine that he must have been missing his nightly sessions with Alma too — his hyper virility must have been boiling over!

I found it strange that we didn't address what had happened, but I preferred it to the alternative. It seemed like all that talk of me being kicked out went away when Chris understood I wasn't a threat to his relationship.

But one Saturday night something changed. I came home from a party late and as I walked in the door, I was surprised first to hear the sounds of sex. I thought maybe Alma had finally come home, but fairly soon I found the source of the sound — the TV was on loudly, playing a porn video of a blonde, tan woman with big, fake tits getting fucked by a muscular guy.

I stood in the living room now, my eyes moving from the television screen to the couch on which I was very surprised to find Chris sitting completely naked. My jaw dropped as my gaze followed from his face, to his sinewed arm, down to his lap. I was shocked at the size and heft of the actual, lube-slicked, utterly beveined pussy pleaser he was manhandling with abandon, continuing even as I stood there in front of him. They say the camera adds ten pounds but in this case, they were definitely wrong. Reality definitely seemed to have more weight than what I'd previously only seen on screen.

He looked up at me. "Hey man," he said, very casually, as though he were just watching an episode of Friends on Nick at Night or something.

"Uh, hey," I said, still a bit in shock. He continued stroking himself, eyes glued to the screen. I found myself watching intently for a moment, my own cock hardening in my jeans. The soft blue light from the television accentuated every defined ridge of his abdomen, and his biceps looked dramatically huge as it moved back and forth in space, powering his fist over and over again along the length of his astounding man cannon.

If I stayed much longer, I didn't know what I might do. I went straight to my room and jerked off with an intensity close to those original nights when I'd listened to Chris and Alma fucking in their room. The image of Chris nude sitting there, pleasuring himself, was now fixed in my mind — a new obsession.

The next day while I had my coffee in the morning, Chris came out in his boxer shorts and said hello, very casually as if nothing had happened. I have to say, I didn't understand this new phase. But I wasn't about to complain about it either.

I worked all day, and as I came in the door I was surprised to hear similar sounds to the previous night — a porn film playing loudly, the sound of moans and loud fucking.

Sure enough, there was Chris sitting on the couch, fully nude, watching the film and jerking off. I hurried to my room again and couldn't help but satisfy myself as I thought of him lying there, that incredible body of his.

Once I came, I found myself wondering what the hell was happening. I thought Chris would be furious when he found out I'd been watching his sex videos, and that I was getting off on watching him specifically. His new actions were very strange — was he getting some sort of bizarre revenge on me — forcing me to walk in on him jerking off just as I had done to him? Or tempting me in some cruel way?

Or was there something else at play? I decided when I got home that night if the same thing happened, this time I'd say something.

Sure enough, I got home and as I opened the door, heard the familiar sounds. I walked in to see Chris sitting on the couch, fully naked, again going to town on his lubed up prick.

This time I had to do something. But what? I didn't really want to interrupt him. And it felt weird just to stand there waiting for him to finish. So I sat down beside him.

When I sat down he didn't slow his strokes at all. In fact it seemed as if his pace may have even quickened and a little grunt escaped his throat.

I somehow expected him to stop so that we could talk, but instead he wasn't even acknowledging my presence. I sat there awkwardly for a little while watching the video, feeling the familiar tightening in my pants as I grew hard.

Chris moaned a little beside me and the memory of my fantasies came rushing back to me, causing me to get even harder.

"You like what you see?" I thought I heard him say. But that couldn't be right. I kept my eyes on the screen.

And then I heard it again, unmistakably. "You like what you see?"

I thought I could feel him looking at me in my peripheral vision. I turned to look at him and met his gaze for an instant but looked away, nervously. He was definitely looking at me as he played with himself.

"It's OK, bro," I heard him say, "You can look at me. You know you want to."

I didn't know what the fuck was going on. Was this some kind of trap? But I also could't resist. I turned to look at him, allowing myself to accept his invitation.

My gaze again traced his finely sculpted shoulder and biceps, to his fur covered forearm, the strong hand that slid effortlessly over that magnificent organ, a sight I hadn't been able to banish from my mind since viewing its faint image on my laptop screen. And then I found myself looking back up, into his dark eyes and nearly fainting as he returned my gaze.

"Dude, I'm so horny without Alma here," he said, eyes locked on mine.

"It's OK - I get it," I said, thinking this was some kind of apology on his part for being out there like this for his now-nightly porn binges.

"You know what I mean?" he said, "I could really use some help, and I've been thinking..."