With Corey and His Roommate

***Note that the following story is a work of semi-fiction, or maybe "inspired by a true story." Part is 100% true, and part is fantasy, and I leave it to the reader to determine which is which. Certain details have been tweaked to protect the "innocent."***

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I don't know what the hell brought all that on. I mean, I had always seen myself as perfectly straight, a guy who whose fantasies and experiences were with women only, thank you very much. Maybe that was the problem... that I'd never thought about it before, so I had no counter-argument ready when all that was challenged. But still, even in my wildest imagination, there's no way I would have ever thought that....

Sorry... I'm jumping the gun. Let me back up.

It all started because Corey and I had become friends. And we were the most unlikely of friends. I knew him somewhat while we were in college, as he was the roommate of one of my best friends. My friend and Corey were themselves an unlikely couple, with different personalities and interests. But as roommates they were perfectly matched, with something of a odd couple kind of thing going. So again, I ran into and talked to Corey all the time, but we had never really hit it off for whatever reason.

That all changed in the year after graduation, after my best buddy suddenly found a woman who became The Love of His Life.® He was so enamored (ok, pussy-whipped) with her that the guy started flaking out on getting together with anyone else, many times leaving both Corey and I in the lurch. Finally, my friend up and moved in with her, and more or less fell off the face of the earth. By that point, Corey and I had gotten into the habit of hanging out together, and I actually started having a blast with him. We never looked back.

The thing about Corey was... well, he was the most intense person I think I've ever met. Everything about him was intense. Quiet. Reserved. Brooding. Almost like coiled tension in human form, ready to spring. I think some of the intensity sprang from his upbringing. I didn't know his whole story but I knew he had a rough childhood, and he was very closed off, especially at first. At times it felt like he viewed the world with a certain... wariness. And his hobbies tended to be solitary, and hard core. He was a dedicated distance runner, always pushing himself. He loved hiking, too, but his true love was rock climbing, and he did it every chance he could. All this gave him a nice athletic build. He wasn't bulky, but the man had more strength in his little finger than most guys had in their legs.

Beyond that, he was a great looking guy... but he had sharp, angular features that added to his overall vibe of intensity. He had the most piercing, icy blue eyes I've ever seen, which had a way of stopping you dead in your tracks.

But as I got to know him, I got to sense that this quiet intensity was just a shell... really just the tip of the iceberg. While he might seem stand-offish, I got the sense that deep down he hungered for real connections with other people. I came to realize I had never met a guy with more zest for life. The man was up for anything at the drop of a hat, a guy who ran around like he wanted to experience everything the world could possibly throw at him. He salivated at the thought of travel, especially if it was to new places. Plus, give him a couple drinks, and he became the world's most engaging, interesting conversationalist--you had to work to keep up with him. And most of all, he was fiercely loyal to his friends. I mean like Blood Oath loyal.

In terms of personality, I was as different as I could be... like a yin to his yang. I'm Sean, and I am as sun-shiny as Corey is stormy. I'm well known for my humor, a great circle of friends, and my ability to talk to anybody. I've kept active and have good build, and am hairy in all the places a guy should be hairy. I have a devilish smile that I've used with devastating effect on the ladies... and overall, I can say with no false modesty that I'm damn good looking, in a puckish way.

Even in our love lives, Corey and I were worlds apart. I kept up an active love life with several women, including a serious relationship that lasted right up until the last few weeks of school when she dumped me in spectacular fashion. I was still smarting from how all that went down. Corey, as far as I knew, had a long-distance thing going on for at least four years with a girl named Jenny, but I rarely heard him talk about her. I only know the few times she blew into town, they had animal sex that matched Corey's trademark intensity.

That summer in the late-1990s was challenging. I had started working at a big indoor-outdoor music festival as a bar back, hauling kegs, cases of wine, bags of ice and what not. There was something going on nearly every night, so I was able to get loads of hours, and the endless shifts of heavy lifting was giving me a body to envy without ever having to go to the gym. Best of all, being a sometime musician myself, I got to hang out with all kinds of people in the industry, ranging from musicians and promoters to roadies, so I got a chance to get to know the business.

The tradeoff is I had next to no free time, and when it came it was usually in oddball chunks. Fortunately, Corey's work schedule had more flexibility, and pretty much alone among my friends we were able to hang out fairly regularly. Over grilled food, endless conversations, and plenty of liquor, we became pretty tight. We planned big plans, argued about music and groused about the sad state of our respective love lives.

And then things took an unexpected turn.

I was heading over to Corey's place... we were planning on grilling some burgers and he wanted to share some Brazilian jazz he had just picked up. I knew nothing about Brazilian jazz, but was in need of company and a cold beer. He mentioned that he had brought on a new roommate named Jake, who might be around as well. All fine with me.

Once I arrived, we cracked open some beers and Corey put on his music. Shortly thereafter, his roommate Jake showed up. I really didn't see him--he called out a general "hello" on his way by, then shouted over his shoulder that he was just back from a run and was going to hit the shower. Corey shouted back that since we were about to be hit with a summer thunderstorm, Jake should have just waited outside and let nature clean him off. Jake grunted something indistinct and hopped into the bathroom.

While the water ran, Corey somewhat filled me in on Jake. He went to our same college, and Corey had known him from a couple of classes they took together. Jake was pretty much a jock, and kept busy in a couple of amateur league sports since graduation. Jake had mentioned to Corey previously that he thought he knew who I was from college, but I couldn't ever remember meeting him.

After a few minutes, Jake came out to join us, freshly clean.

Jesus.

I mean, I've always thought I was straight and all, but...

Jesus.

Jake was wearing nothing but a pair of lounge shorts, with a sizable bulge indicating he was going commando. While Corey had a tight athletic build, Jake was straight up a hunk, with well-developed muscles. He had dark brown hair that dusted his entire, muscled body. I mean, he wasn't a gorilla or anything, but had hairy forearms, a nice hairy chest, and a treasure trail that I suspected led to a completely unmanscaped bush... as evidenced by the pubes peeking out over the waistband of his shorts.

It wasn't just his body that screamed "jock," however--it was his whole bearing. The way he strode into the room and plopped down on one of the chairs had such a... physicality to it. A swagger. A confidence. Like, that even as he was lounging with a leg casually thrown over the arm of his chair, he could leap into action in a flash if someone suddenly threw a spiral pass.

To be blunt, my boy Jake was hot.

Jake had grabbed a beer and effortlessly joined us in our conversation. We had a blast. He brought a certain cockiness to the table, a snarky sense of humor that balanced out Corey's brooding intensity and my happy-go-lucky charm. We covered a lot of ground, getting into a particularly vehement argument about local bands as we tossed back a few too many adult beverages.

During a break in the storm, we grilled a few burgers and ate them down like a pack of hyenas. It was summer at its finest.

Rain soon drove us back inside again, and our well-lubricated conversation resumed. Perhaps not surprising when you throw alcohol and bored young guys together, the talk turned to sex. It started when Jake made a kind of deliriously raunchy comment... one that often passes between roommates, especially those that share a bedroom wall and have zero secrets. But he caught himself, realizing there was a new guy in the room, and started half-apologizing.

"Hell no, man... don't worry," I responded. "Don't censor yourself on my account. It's been months since I had any action. Hell, it's been so long since I had sex, I think they've changed it. You gotta let me live vicariously through my friends!" I raised my beer bottle in salute.

Jake registered surprise. "Dude. A good-looking guy like yourself? What happened?"

I winced somewhat, sensing Jake was about to start busting my balls on what was for me still a very touchy subject. Corey jumped to my rescue. "We gotta let him be. Sean had the mother of all bad break ups. It was so bad, I think it was even covered in the British tabloids."

I let out a big sigh and took a deep swig of beer. "Yeah. Ripped our whole circle apart. It's taken the wind out of my sails. I need to get on my feet and get out there again, but... you know."

Rather than let me wallow, Corey started a more general lament that we were all in a dry spell. I found myself surprised that Jake didn't have 5-6 women lined up that same evening. Jake noted that he had just gotten out of a bad relationship with a woman who swore she loved everything about him... but then quickly set her mind to change everything about him. We agreed that women never understood guys... and certainly didn't understand our need for constant, regularly-occurring sex.

The talk slowly shifted to remembering our best bouts, and chest-pumping boasts about who had the craziest sex adventure. Our hunky friend Jake won that contest hands-down. Moreover, he had emerged as the ringleader of our conversation... leading with smarmy references and lewd asides. It was the kind of obscene fun that only young males could appreciate. I was loving the conversation, but I was also realizing just how horny I was under the surface. I'd had had nothing but my right hand for far too long, and fueled by beer and bravado I was feeling a certain longing. I knew that as soon as I got home, I was going to let fly with some serious jerking off.

Then, the topic of our wildest fantasy came up. And again, Jake was wildly, wonderfully irreverent. We were all laughing hysterically, and envious of his creativity. He had this whole narrative worked out with settings, characters, everything. I think at some point it involved peasants. An over-the-top romp if ever I heard one.

I really didn't have anything to compare with that, but when they guys looked at me for my own obscene fantasy, I went ahead anyway. "I don't have anything that... specific," I started, giving Jake a look. "But wellllll... let me see."

After thinking for a second, I went on. "OK. My fantasy doesn't involve anyone specific, or any place specific so much as... well, it involves something I love but never get to indulge myself in. The thing is, I'm a butt-guy. And I mean that in all ways. I mean, have you guys ever had a girl pleasure your butt at all?"

They looked at me skeptically... this was the 1990s, and guy's butts were still pretty much off the table.

I went on. "I had one girlfriend who did. We were fucking on the floor, her on her back and me on top of her... it was a hot, steamy session. Right there on the carpet, couldn't even wait to get onto the bed. I had my rhythm going and she was moaning like a bitch--we were into it. And then, out of the blue, she reached around and without any fanfare she slid her finger into my buttcrack and started fingering my hole. Fuck, I lost my mind. I never felt anything like it! Jesus, just thinking about it gets me hard now. I had a good sweat going, and her finger was slick... and fuck if that didn't move me into another gear. I couldn't even keep fucking her, I was just circling my ass around her finger. It set off lighting all over me. And as I bucked, it slid in... and that's when I almost fucking lost it. I turned into an animal, and started fucking the shit out of her. Like harder than anything we'd ever done. And with my pounding her pussy, it was like she was finger fucking my hole. It was like nothing you could ever believe. I didn't last, and I swear with her finger up there, my cum shot out in technicolor."

The guys were looking at me with intense interest.

I continued. "If you ever, I mean ever get a chance for that, fucking take it. Promise anything, if you have to. I think I scared her with how out of control I was. After that, we pretty much saved butt-play for special occasions, and every time she fingered me it was a fucking party. But it was only that one girl... everyone else thought it was too nasty. I wish I could have a massive session where a woman gave my ass that kind of attention."

As I finished my story, I could tell the guys were thinking long and hard about that... hearing expert testimony on a source of pleasure they had never contemplated before. I didn't add that I would occasionally finger my own ass still today if I was really riled up--that was a bit too personal to share. But sadly, exploring with my own finger never gave me the thrill of having her do it for me.

"But there's the other side, too," I went on. "I have this other fantasy kinda related to that, but no woman I've ever known has ever let me do it. So, I love a woman's ass. I mean, like love, love, love it. Everything about it. The shape, how it curves. Those two sweet ass cheeks. Yeah, tits and pussy are great, but I've had my way with them. I want to get into her ass. I mean, to really get into her ass. Not just fucking it... I want to do something, dark, taboo, forbidden. I want to eat her ass out the same way I eat out a pussy."

Jake made somewhat of a face. "Aw, dude, seriously? Isn't that gonna be nasty? I mean an ass is... dirty. Jesus, wouldn't the smell of it gross you out?"

"Well, first, doing something nasty is itself a fantasy of mine. I always played it safe, played it 'normal.' Just once in my life, I want to do something that is nasty. Something totally fucked up!"

Here, Corey snorted in derision. I rolled my eyes at him and went on. "But it's more than that. Scents... well, scents really rev my motor. I don't know what it is. But everyone always jokes about how bad a woman's snatch smells, but I fucking love it! I love that scent. I want to do more. Really explore. Maybe I'd hate it, but the thought of burying my face in an ass gets me hard as a rock."

At this point, Jake did something unexpected. Totally unexpected. "Well, fucking hell man... if you want to bury your face in an ass so bad, be my guest!"

With this, he stood up, pulled down his lounge shorts, and shoved his now bare ass into my face, inches from my nose.

And right there, time stopped.

I recognize that he was just shitting me, mocking me... giving me a snarky "fuck you" to my face, and fully expecting me to react in kind. A bit of physical humor, if you will. Something I've found that hypermasculine guys in hypercompetitive environments like team sports readily do. I'm sure he was just being a jackass.

But I stopped. And strangely enough, I considered.

Now, I've seen lots of male ass in my time. Having done high school sports, living in a dorm, working out at the gym... yeah, I've seen all kinds of butts before. But I never took notice of them. For one thing, doing so was a quick invitation to getting your own ass kicked... homophobia still formed the bedrock of male relationships at that time. But more than that, years of socialization had taught that a guy's ass--particularly a hairy ass, like Jake's clearly was--was the textbook definition of nasty, ugly, and disgusting. There was a reason "butt-ugly" was a common smear. And guys themselves wrote off their butts; while guys were forever boasting about their arms, and a guy's dick was the mark of his masculinity and sexual prowess, his butt was all but forgotten. As a result, you never, ever paid attention to a guy's backside. That was personal.

But right now, Jake's ass has my undivided attention. Unlike the pear-shape of a woman's ass, his was both rounder, yet straighter. And it was clearly solid muscle. It was lightly dusted with hair, that became darker and fuller down his crack, thickening considerably where his asshole was. It was... powerful. And... it was fucking masculine. Raw. Animalistic. And intently sexual... I had no idea a man's ass could be that fucking hot.

I had never in my life thought about a man's ass, but suddenly my mind was considering things I had never considered. Nasty, taboo things. I had dreamed so long of getting my face inside of a woman's ass, and now I was... holy fuck, was I considering doing it with Jake's? How similar, but how different would it be? What would it be like with that... hair? My gaze rippled across his muscled backside, taking it in... and was my pulse quickening? Was I actually considering it?

What the fuck was....

...oh shit.

Instead of making a smart-ass response to Jake's peep show, I realized I was staring. Thinking about possibilities. But for how long?

I looked up and my heart fell. Jake was looking at me. He had seen my expression.

He knew.

"Holy shit... you're fucking thinking about it, aren't you?"

Blood drained from my face. And any thought about sex was washed away in a wave or raw terror. Like I said, homophobia was the bedrock of all male relationships. I had just given this well-built jock an open invitation to fucking punch my lights out. Or worse.

I immediately started jabbering in a panic, desperately trying to keep my voice from raising up several octaves. "What? Fuck, no, Jake! No way...! No...! No, I was... that's crazy!" I tried unconvincingly to laugh it off. "Fuck you! I wasn't looking at anything! I'm not gay. I am not gay!"

"I don't blame you, I've got a hot ass," Jake responded, levelly.

His casual response only raised my level of panic. For a second it occurred to me that the only thing worse than getting the shit beaten out of me because this man's man thought I was checking him out... was having this man's man actually believe that I really was gay. That would lead to social death, and worse, it would rip apart everything I thought about myself.

"Jake, NO... I swear it wasn't anything. I'm not gay! I swear I wasn't checking you out! I would never do anything like that!" The words kept pouring out of my mouth, indistinct, desperate... and not fooling anyone.

"Dude. I saw the look in your eyes. A guy's a guy--he can't help it. Not when he's fired up. You're into ass. And you're thinking about mine. You can't stop thinking about it."

"Jake... NO! Look, I'm not like that!"

"Get over yourself, man. It's all ok," he retorted. There was a cockiness to him, like he knew he had already won. But it wasn't dominance... it wasn't like he was going to... I don't know, blackmail me. He was just... interested. Curious. If I didn't know better, I'd say he was even... aroused. If I had never considered doing anything like this, neither had he. But here he was... considering. "Dude. You're the one who was telling us how awesome it was having your ass get attention. No one's ever talked that way to me. No one's ever offered. I know you want it. I'm not afraid to try something new; hell I live for trying out something new. Do it. Here's your chance to live out your fantasy. Make a believer out of me."