Of course, this is a work of fiction. None of the characters are real, and it is totally a work of the imagination. But thanks for reading, and I welcome any comments, suggestions, thoughts, or ideas -- even criticism! -- at burlguy@excite.com
My Roommate's Dad
by
Jef Blitzer
What did it mean when he said no?
Well, he never said, no. Not in so many words. But he told me to go away. Well, not really. But he told me to get dressed. Someone might come in.
Was I misreading him? I don't know if I'll ever know. But I think about it a lot.
This man I think about so much, the one I dream about is my roommate's Dad. Mike and I were assigned as roommates for our freshman year. I was from Ohio, going to school in North Carolina. Mike was from just 40 miles away.
I met his parents the first day there. Mike and his Dad are built alike, hairy and husky. I'm taller than them, and smooth.
Something happened that first year. His parents were nice to me. His Dad was always friendly, sweet, interested in me. It did something to me. Kindled something I had never known was there.
I had dated girls a lot in high school. I never was interested in guys. The only gay guys I knew I didn't like. And what they did was sick. Or at least I thought so then. Now I wonder.
I started daydreaming about Mike's Dad. Wishing he were around more. Liking it when he smiled at me. I even got to liking it when he hugged me. My family never hugged. But he would reach up (he's about 6', I'm 6'4") and hold me tight, and I loved it. I was kind of surprised the first time. But I liked it the second. And loved it the third.
What I didn't like was that I began to get hard when I thought about him. I didn't know why. There was something about him that excited me. And I remember thinking it was sick. How Mike's Dad would despise me if he knew I felt that way.
I went to confession. The priest was kind. Said it was a crush, and not really sexual, not gay at all, and that I shouldn't worry about it. But I couldn't quit thinking him. I started wondering what he looked like naked. Started enjoying when he would wear a shirt open at the collar, and I could see the hair bushing out. Wishing he had been my Dad, and wondering if he thought I was less of a guy because my chest is completely smooth.
Then one night, I beat off thinking about his chest. Wondering what it looked like. I couldn't believe how far I shot. It was such a turn on. And I felt so guilty that night, I could hardly sleep.
I went to confession again the next day. Told the priest everything about the night before. He listened, and looked kind of sad.
I went over some kind of edge the next week. I was at the mall. Went into a restroom to piss, and a guy was in there. I did a double take -- I thought it was Mike's Dad. Then I realized immediately it wasn't him, after I'd said hello.
The guy didn't understand. I was being friendly because I had thought he was someone else. But he kept on talking quietly, real friendly. Started rubbing my arm. Then he took his cock out.
I couldn't take my eyes off it. It was big and thick. The thought crossed my mind that that's what his Dad looks like. I kept staring. "Are you cool with this?," the man asked. I sort of nodded and gulped. "Touch it," he told me. I did. It was stiff and big. "Ever done this before?," he asked me, and I lied and said, "Sure."
"Then play with it," he told me, "Feel it up good."
And I did. It felt good. Big and hard, and he had a lot of foreskin. I'd hardly ever seen a guy with that. But it felt wonderful. And all the time, I'm thinking, "You're making yourself a fag." I didn't care. The only time I stopped was when he started to shoot, and I pulled my hand away. It squirted a lot, all over the floor. "You're cool," he told me, and walked out.
I washed my hands in the sink there for a long time that day. I couldn't quit thinking about it, how it felt in my hand. And wondering if Mike's Dad looked like that. And feeling sick.
I went a couple of days without whacking off. I just felt so bad about what I had done. I kept thinking I was making myself gay. And I didn't want that. I didn't want to be gay. I just wanted him. Mike's Dad. To hug me, to hold me, talk to me. That's not gay, is it? It's not like I wanted to be a fag. I still want to get married. I still want kids some day.
I went back to the mall. I thought maybe that guy might be there. It had been a couple of weeks since I'd seen Mike's Dad. I missed him. Mike has a family picture on his desk. His Dad is wearing a beautiful striped shirt, and he's got sunglasses on. I wish I had a picture of him for me. I could carry it in my wallet. I don't know how I'd ever get one. I think sometimes I should try and steal one next time I'm at their house. I have to watch what I say. If his Dad found out I felt this way, he might demand that Mike move out of the dorm, to get away from me. I might not ever see him again, if his Dad finds out.
His Dad's name is Jef. I keep wanting to call him that, act like he's one of the guys and all, and I keep tripping over the sound. He's cool with it. Keeps telling me to call him whatever I feel comfortable with. And nothing feels comfortable, cause I'm scared I'll say something stupid. I think I sound like a dork. Always trying so hard to be cool, and I come across like I'm a dork. God, what am I doing?
I went back to the mall. I thought maybe that guy might be there. He wasn't. But other guys were. For the same reason the first guy was. At first, I didn't do anything more than I did the first time. Just feel them up. But I can't believe I kept going further than that. At first, I couldn't stand to feel their cum on my hand. But I got used to it. Then I let one of them jerk me off. I had done that with friends when I was a kid, but it never felt this way, never felt so fuckin hot, never felt like I was going to go through the ceiling. This was good. My cock would get huge and hard, and spray like crazy. I even let a guy suck me. That didn't bother me too bad. What scares me is that I wish I had the nerve to suck them. I like the thought. It's such a fag thing to do. God, what is happening to me.
One time, I went out to a guy's truck. He was about Jef's age, and really hot. He said we really should go to his truck, `cause it wasn't that safe in the restroom. So I went with him. It was dark out in the parking lot, and he told me, "Just put your mouth on it, just for a second, and see what it feels like. You want to, don't ya?" And I did. Just put my mouth on it for a second, and took it off. I can't believe I liked it. Can't believe I almost kept it on there for longer. And after we both shot, and he cleaned up with some tissues he had in the glove box, we started talking. I told him about Jef, and what I was thinking about him. God, I can't believe I told him that. I felt like such a shit afterwards. But he was real nice. He listened to me, and told me something I couldn't believe: "If you want this man, you are probably getting signals from him. He probably wants you, too. You need to find a place alone with him. Show him you're cool to it. It will happen. You'll get what you want."
I couldn't quit thinking about that. How maybe Jef wanted this, too. Maybe he wanted to be with me, like I wanted to be with him. And I kept wondering how I could figure it out. I wanted to call him, ask him to go some place with me, just me and him, with Mike not around. But I figured that was too weird. But I thought something might come up, `cause later on that month Mike and I would be staying at their house for a week, over Spring break. Neither of us had the money to go some place cool, and Jef had told me I was welcome there, and I was sure as hell glad.
That's how it happened. We were there for almost an entire week. Now Jef works at home, computer stuff, so he's around all the time. Mike's Mom is gone all day working, and Mike's sisters are go to school all day, so I kept hoping there would come a time when Mike would be gone for a while, and I could try something, anything, to see if Jef felt the same way I did.
And the day came, finally, the third day we were there. Mike had a bunch of errands to run, and he was going to catch up with some friends I didn't know. Said he would be leaving out around 9 in the morning, and wouldn't be back until after lunch, maybe later. I faked like I wanted to sleep in, and I knew this would be my chance.
Mike left -- right on schedule, he is always on schedule -- a little after 9, and I got up quickly. Jef walked by the door of the room where I had slept, and told me good morning through the door. It felt so hot, just me and him there, and I was friendly back, even friendlier than I usually am, and I told him I was going to take a shower, and he said that was cool, that he'd be working, and to let him know if there was something I needed. Damn, that got me even harder than I already was. I'd had a lot of ammunition these days, `cause Jef works out there, too, and I'd had the chance to see him in his beautiful shorts and wifebeater shirt. I never thought legs were hot on a man, but his are. Real muscular and hairy. Damn, he's hairy all over. I tried to keep from staring at his front.
But I heard him walk downstairs and I got up and showered. I was horned up in the shower, and usually I would have beat off, but I didn't. I just knew we were going to do something. I wanted to look nice. I didn't know what I was going to say, but I thought he might say it first. So I showered, and put on aftershave, and brushed my teeth.
I started to get dressed, but then I thought, "What the hell? Maybe he'll like what he sees." So I just wrapped the towel around me. I got it fixed just right. I looked at my chest in the mirror, and wished -- like I did every morning -- that I was hairy like him. But the guy at the mall had told me that sometimes hairy guys really go for smooth ones, and maybe Jef felt like that.
So just like that, I walked downstairs to his office. He was turned to the computer, and he said, without turning around, "Hey, buddy, hold on a second, I need to save this file," and I said, "Sure," and then he turned around, and I just smiled, and said, "What's goin on?"
I couldn't read what he was thinking. He looked a little surprised, maybe, seeing that all I had on was the towel wrapped around me. But I thought he looked interested. And I realized that his eyes had looked up and down my body. I blushed. Fuck, why did I blush. And then I saw his tongue lick his lips. Just for a second. "Sit down," he told me, and I did.
I was half-hard, and hoped he couldn't see it. I still felt sort of dumb, but I was so horned I had to do something. We just talked, kind of small talk, and he asked me if I wanted something to eat, and I told him that, No, I was cool, and I got harder when he leaned forward in his seat toward me, real close.
And that was when he sort of half-smiled, and looked away for just a second. He put his hand on my arm, and rested it there. And then he rubbed my arm, back and forth, just for a second, smiled real big, and stared straight into my eyes, and opened his mouth. I thought he hesitated a second before he started talking, and when he talked, he didn't talk long: "You'd better go get dressed," he said softly, "No telling when somebody might come home," and he squeezed my arm again, and he stood up, and so did I. "Sure," I told him, and smiled a little, and felt like a real shit. He thinks I'm a real, genuine fag, I thought, and I turned toward the stairs. That was when he reached out again. He took my upper arm this time, squeezed it again, and he smiled that beautiful smile, and I went upstairs.
I thought he would treat me weird from then on, but he didn't. He was still friendly, still nice, and he talked to me a lot that week. But what did he mean when he said no? I think about it a lot now. But I met that guy at the mall again, and he asked me if I'd ever been able to get together with Jef, and I told him what had happened, and how I'd made a butt out of myself, and how Jef had said no. And this guy tells me something I think about even more. That Jef didn't say no. That maybe he was saying, "Later." That Jef and I could be friends, but maybe Jef was afraid fooling around might mess up our friendship. So we have become friends. I can call him by his name now, without getting weird. He and I even get together for a beer sometimes, just us, without Mike even. We play racquetball some. I like him. And he's told me he likes me. Said that over a beer one night. I still think about him a lot. Does that make me gay? I don't think so. All I want is to be his friend.
The end